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

[moderatelymaladjusted]

[Thanks for that, Cao Pi, but Quentin doesn't even have time to think that before the thing is on them, bearing down against the Shield Quentin erects between them and there's not enough magic, not enough power left to keep it up for long.

And Quentin is trapped between the 250 pounds of dead-weight strapped to his waist by the travois and Eliot, and the spirit with the big mouth. He's screaming, yelling in frustration as his mind cycles through spells and discards them until he finally drops the Shield in a dull shimmer of spell shards and does the one spell that never fails - he conjures cheap red wine, right in to the gaping mouth in front of his face, fingers twisting and he's pushing his arm way UP. Not just a glass, but a flood of wine pouring out of thin air.]

I fucking can't!

[inthenightmods]

[The spirit slides to an awkward halt just in front of Quentin, apparently too baffled by the sudden gushing wine to really notice being stabbed in the side. It tries to back up at first, realizes that isn't working, and coughs up gallons of liquid. Then just... shuts its mouth. Which of course looks just as horrific— a circle of protruding teeth drawn in on each other.

Shaking its head ("head") the creature reaches out with one huge hand to try and grab Quentin, blaming him for the torrent of alcohol.]

[pure_havoc]

[successful stab, good sign, but it's definitely not enough. Cao Pi looks toward the head when Quentin yells, and kind of kicks himself mentally for ignoring the travois. Right, yeah, that would make it a bit difficult to run, wouldn't it? He picks himself up quickly, clicks the two swords together into one weapon, and dashes over to try to get himself and his weapon between the hand and its intended victim. Apart, they weren't doing much good but together, Pure Havoc might be large enough to jam into that toothy maw if it comes to it.]

I suggest we either come up with something more effective, fast, or we retreat. This thing is much stronger than the others.

[as he swings hard at the hand. Can he at least get it pushed to the side before it makes contact?]

[moderatelymaladjusted]

[There's nothing to summon here. No structures, no nails, no nothing and Quentin grabs his bow, arrow knocked and spell cast before Cao Pi gets a chance to see if his sword it too large to be swallowed.

There's also no where to run that isn't straight forward or Quentin is going to get tangled up in the travois and he might tip it over, leaving Eliot defenseless and sleeping.

Fuck this.

He lets the arrow fly, the Fly True spell already cast and aims for the hand reaching out to him, and another, aiming for the face? Face of the thing coming ever closer.]

How strong are you?

[inthenightmods]

[The arrow and the blade meet the hand at about the same instant. The arrow goes straight through, leaving the back of the hand in a flash of blood and then flying off into the forest. The blade slices across the palm, knocking the whole hand to the side, and the spirit jerks it back with a squeal.

The second arrow goes into the mouth, but it's immediately snapped in half by those rows of horrible teeth.

Those rows of horrible teeth which are now coming forward, pulsing open and closed, ready to eat.]

[pure_havoc]

We shall see, won't we?

[in truth he's pretty average - not weak in any sense but not as strong as some of the supernatural beings around them or even your bog-standard musclebound bodyguard. What Zihuan is is skilled, and armed with a very pointy thing, which he uses to fend off the teeth for a bit.

...aha, there's a thought.]

Do you have a spell that can...speed me up? If I can get into the mouth before it closes on me...

[another good straight jab to show what he means - if he can get in there fast enough, a stab to the roof of the mouth should be enough, right? It's going to be stupid but if it works, yeet the emperor at it.]

[moderatelymaladjusted]

[Good thinking! If only magic worked like that... alas.]

Can't.

[Quentin gets out through clenched teeth, the mouth gaping open way too close to his own face for comfort and he throws his hands out, fingers twisting and maybe, maybe, maybe this works. He's not Eliot, he doesn't have the inherent skill of kinetic magic, but he's still a Physical kid. This kind of magic is still closer to his own brand of magic than anything else, and he's forcing the air to congeal around the spirit. Thick as molasses, magic pouring in to the empty space all around the spirit to slow it down.]

I can maybe slow it down! Stab it! Something!