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

[equinoctials]

[ If they manage to make it far enough to assess what happened, Riku will be grateful she knew to keep where he'd pressed her; friendly fire's never friendly.

As it stands, his ears are ringing from the awful sound, he hears the spirit shriek and feels the blow shudder up his arms, hears another sound and thinks that must be Rosalind's shout. There's a change in the scent of this Darkness and, recognizing hers, he reaches for her, finding the bend of her elbow. Her skin feels wet and warm.

Riku is already turning to get them away from the injured spirit, realizing a few moments later she must be bleeding. Did he hit her? Or did that spirit--

The Darkness begins to unfurl away from them, as it begins to fade he sees the cart. Turning it onto its side proves something of a hassle, but he doesn't see any other way of getting it through the door. He kicks out with a foot, knocking the alarm further into the lab.

The two of them, working together, can shove the cart outside faster than one alone. ]

Together we can do it, then get on!

[originallutece]

[It doesn't take much effort. Her lab has never been the most stable of buildings; it's easy to shove the cart through, half-blind though they are. Behind them the creature roars, and Rosalind glances over at Riku, blinking hard, trying to be sure she actually sees him.]

Our lanterns--

[She'd completely forgotten.]

[equinoctials]

[ If ever there was a time that was absolutely worth cursing, this is it.

He doesn't. Riku sheds his jacket, quickly, wrestles out of the sweatshirt he wears under it and, wadding this up, he presses this against Rosalind and puts her hands there in his place. ]

Don't move.

[ He doesn't take his jacket with him; he takes his sword instead, sucking in a breath before he bolts back inside.

The alarm continues to bleat shrilly, it's the rest of the noise that makes it worse - the deceptively pleasant chirrup, the horrible roar that follows, the metallic clang and desperate thumps, a shout and an earsplitting howl that starts to gurgle at one great crash and then another.

A short while later, Riku emerges in the doorway in a stagger, leaning against it, lanterns hanging from both arms. He surges towards the cart and drops them there, gasping. Where he presses his now empty hand his side is nearly black with blood. ]

Anything... coming?

[originallutece]

[Selfish not to argue with him about who's going in, but it's not as if she's ever anything but. She presses his jacket to her bloody wounds and waits. There's no use in running; if he fails, it's not as if she'll get very far regardless. But that doesn't mean she isn't tense, gritting her teeth, hating the way she can so easily picture the results of the battle inside--

--and he emerges. So impossibly hurt that she genuinely wonders if he might just bleed out, and in that moment she makes a split-second decision.]

Get in the bloody cart. Don't argue.

[Because something isn't coming now, but that doesn't mean it won't in a moment. Anyway, she won't bring him far: just far enough to patch him up.]

[equinoctials]

[ He looks ready to argue, her don't, the cold dark pressing in all around them, smothering and full of untold danger, makes him think twice. His fingers curl around the edge of the cart and when his stomach tightens to pull the rest of him on board the wound in his side takes his breath away.

Riku turns. He can't say he's done anything more than half-collapse on the cart, the air above his bloodied hand starts to ripple, the way heat brings a mirage, this one shot through with wisps of black.

She might be - even as injured as she is - doing something about moving them, but Riku's stripping off the glove from his other hand with his teeth. The leather is stuffed between his teeth and his breath gusts through his nostrils, he pulls at the same darkness that he'd used to shield them from view and screws shut his eyes.

Dark Firaga casts no light, it's a smokeless heat that roils black and violet, and when it erupts from the palm pressed against his bleeding side it's his glove that smothers the animal noise that scrapes him raw on its way out of his throat. The smell is about what one would expect, cauterizing a wound with fire. ]

[originallutece]

[She doesn't wince, but rather watches his self-triage with a grim expression. It's a good idea, as is his biting back his scream of pain, but that doesn't mean she enjoys watching it. It's sickening and fascinating all at once, but for once, she isn't thinking of science. Just survival.]

Can you do that for me?