inthenightmods: (Default)
In the Night Moderators ([personal profile] inthenightmods) wrote in [community profile] logsinthenight2019-11-16 06:26 pm

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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sauntered_downward: ([eyes] unsure stare)

[personal profile] sauntered_downward 2019-12-05 02:01 am (UTC)(link)
Crowley is standing over Aziraphale, giving him another wave of healing. Healing doesn't wake him, it doesn't help, it doesn't do anything. It's just there. Just like Aziraphale. He's just there.

The man Crowley has met before steps inside, and Crowley turns to face him.

"Gone where?" he demands, moving to his feet. Where would the human soldier person go? They haven't got anywhere to go, except to the Lighthouse, but they don't think that's the right place to go, they've made that very clear.
callada: (wonder if the mentholated ones are good)

[personal profile] callada 2019-12-05 02:33 am (UTC)(link)
That sounds like concern. Somehow it almost surprises him. He knew Soldat considered Crowley a "handler" of sorts, in this place, but were they actually close? Perhaps so.

He's too tired to spend much time analyzing relationships even when it's what his mind leaps to straightaway. He wants to go sit down and drink. Maybe have several cigarettes in a row. Job first, though.

"We ran into a pack of spirits made of solid stone and couldn't fight them with the usual weapons. There were too many, and too hard to bring down. Kept trying to restrain us. He freed the ones holding me down and then went straight for their leader with a grenade in his hand. There's... not much there now."
sauntered_downward: (but why is this happening)

[personal profile] sauntered_downward 2019-12-05 02:44 am (UTC)(link)
Crowley gapes. "So, what? They just blew themselves up?"

Something hits him hard at that. It shouldn't, he tells himself. It shouldn't because humans die all of the time. If it isn't violence that takes them, then time does. Not even a lot of time, and suddenly they're gone. He shouldn't even let himself think about it because it doesn't matter---it doesn't matter.

Except it does. And the human soldier person has become Crowley's friend. One of the only people he's come to truly like in this horrible, miserable little dark town. Someone who really wanted to make sure he stayed alive.

And they ran off into a group of spirits with a grenade. "That's---well, actually that sounds exactly like something they'd fucking do, and they're always after me for being reckless."
callada: (that was my last cigarette :()

[personal profile] callada 2019-12-05 03:00 am (UTC)(link)
The pronoun choice throws him for a second. The spirits are the only plural in the situation he knows of, and no, the spirits didn't blow themselves up, Soldat blew them up.

But. Hm. Maybe it's an Earth thing. Maybe it's just a Soldat thing. The guy is strange enough and keeps strange company.

"Well, I owe him. I guess we all do. I wouldn't have wanted those things to make it here. Not sure how else we would ever have dealt with them. I just hope he makes it back."
sauntered_downward: (it burned down)

[personal profile] sauntered_downward 2019-12-05 03:05 am (UTC)(link)
"From the church," Crowley says, looking over the man's shoulder. Right, of course. The one place in the whole town Crowley absolutely cannot go. He can't even go and check to see if the human soldier person is back. Can't help get them back in one piece. They're on their own.

It doesn't seem right. The human soldier person would be there for him.

"Can you make it to the church?" he asks. "Leave something for them? If they make it back, they'll need ammunition, something to make sure they can get back to us."
callada: (beware the silent observer)

[personal profile] callada 2019-12-05 03:21 am (UTC)(link)
"Yes, I can," he responds, despite the fact that he's cautious and tired. Yes, this is something that absolutely should be done and as the person who was out with him when he died, he feels entirely responsible.

"He won't be back for a few days. I'll get it done before then." And he'll go alone. Quieter that way. Well - alone except possibly for Mary. Is it riskier to bring her or to leave her? He has time to decide.

"I... Sorry if this is a strange question," he says, because he just has to know. "Why 'they'? I've never heard that, for a person."
sauntered_downward: ([woman] golgotha)

[personal profile] sauntered_downward 2019-12-05 03:30 am (UTC)(link)
"Gender neutral," Crowley replies. "They prefer it." A pause. "Preferred it."

He doesn't need to say it was an alternative to the human soldier person calling themselves 'it'. Or that it's the human soldier person's way of distancing themselves from being a person. Because, as Crowley had said before, he doesn't have to understand it, or try to rationalize it. It isn't about him.

He reaches into his pockets and begins producing boxes and boxes of ammunition, far more than his coat pockets should be able to hold. "I'm from 2019, and that sort of thing is all over the place where I'm from. Wish we had it back when I was picking a gender, would've made things a lot less complicated."
callada: (se siente bien estar aquí)

[personal profile] callada 2019-12-05 03:44 am (UTC)(link)
A lot of that sort of flies right over Rosinante's head, but he shrugs. All right. Good to know, he figures. For later, when Soldat comes back. When. Or so he hopes.

Way more preferable to think about than that abrupt and jarring death is the sudden production of large amounts of ammunition from those pockets. He'll take the distraction. "That's one hell of a stockpile," he comments. "Did you get all of that from Rastus?"
sauntered_downward: (eyebrows up)

[personal profile] sauntered_downward 2019-12-05 03:49 am (UTC)(link)
"Let's just say I have my ways," Crowley says, pushing the ammunition in the direction of the man. "Think that's enough to get them back here?"

He doesn't have any real concept of how much ammunition they might need. He could pull and pull ammunition out of his pockets until his powers were completely drained and he collapsed on he floor in exhaustion if the thought it would be enough. He just doesn't know.

He just needs to make sure that the human soldier person gets back in one piece. Too many of them have already died over all of this.

"We can leave it for them with a note, let them know it's from us and we want them back as soon as possible. Or at least to message us on the network so we know they're alive."
callada: (I bet Doffy uses mascara)

[personal profile] callada 2019-12-05 05:48 am (UTC)(link)
Rosinante sure does want in on those ways, but now isn't the time to ask. Instead, he nods. "More than enough by far."

And he'll have to move Mary after all, most likely. At least has to take her out of his pack to add the ammunition. Hopefully she'll be all right in his very short absence. He can make it quick.

"Why don't you write your note, then. I need to rest up before I go back out there." And idly he wonders why Crowley won't just go himself if he's so insistent, but again, he feels a little too much guilt to really barter for anything here. Things fell apart too quickly and Soldat shouldn't have had to die as a result of it.
sauntered_downward: ([eyes] unsure stare)

[personal profile] sauntered_downward 2019-12-06 10:38 pm (UTC)(link)
Crowley scrambles behind the bar for a bit of paper and pencil, and scratches together a note for the human soldier person.

These are for you. I'll be waiting back at the Invincible when you're back. Don't die again. -C

Ugh. He cringes at how sentimental he sounds. He really needs to spend some time alone after all this to try to be less freaking soft.

He folds it up and hands it over to the man.

"What's in the bag?" he asks.
callada: (nothing to see here)

[personal profile] callada 2019-12-07 02:28 am (UTC)(link)
Rosinante pockets the folded note for later, then swings the bag around to his chest, making the top of Mary's blond head more visible.

"Dunno if you've met Mary. She's asleep. Easy enough to keep her with me."

Which Soldat hadn't been happy about, but there are risks everywhere here. With the number of healthy defenders at the inn declining daily, any moment could be the time when a wave of spirits breaks in and he has to just flee into the silence and the darkness on his own. At least he knows where she always is.
sauntered_downward: (Default)

[personal profile] sauntered_downward 2019-12-07 04:06 am (UTC)(link)
"She's one of the children, isn't she?" he asks, peering at the small head. Crowley fumes. "Children are always vulnerable to things like this. They're hungry, they eat, they don't know any better. The spirits had to have known that when they set this all up."

He nods to the floor.

"Do you want to leave her here while you go?" he asks. "I'll watch her."
callada: (I bet Doffy uses mascara)

[personal profile] callada 2019-12-07 04:13 am (UTC)(link)
There's a brief moment for which he's not sure whether Crowley is angry at Mary or the spirits, but his jab at them, not her, becomes clear. Yeah, they took advantage of a lot of the people here, but it's especially unfair to the youngest among them. Kids shouldn't have to live not trusting those around them, doubting whether even food is safe. He'd know.

"I'll decide when I leave," he replies. "He won't be back for at least a couple days. I need to eat."

Needs time for more than just that, too. Time to clear his head, re-bandage some of his injuries after the fight. Clean his gun, sharpen his sabre.

"Those bullets you provided - would you be able to make some for my gun as well? I'll need them in order to deliver your gift." He withdraws the flintlock from its holster - not quite the same as his Marine-issue one at home, but familiar enough - so that Crowley can see. Probably needs to know some sort of details to come up with bullets and powder for it.
sauntered_downward: (hmmm?)

[personal profile] sauntered_downward 2019-12-09 01:06 am (UTC)(link)
"Should be able to," Crowley says, waving a hand over the gun to get a feel for it. He snaps a finger, and a box of bullets with a small bag of gunpowder appears in his hand. He offers them over.

"Were we back in my home world, I could create all sorts of weapons, definitely keep these things at bay," he says. "Here, I'm reduced to making bullets."

He supposes it's something, more than they had. But it still doesn't feel like enough, particularly when he knows he should be able to do more. He's a demon, for somebody's sake. His flat was three times larger than the space it occupied, and he just did that with an idle thought. Now he can barely hold together basic miracles.
callada: (recuerdos de su condición)

[personal profile] callada 2019-12-09 01:45 am (UTC)(link)
"You're not the first who's mentioned having trouble with powers that aren't fire," he acknowledges as he opens up the box to look at its contents. He picks one up and turns it in his fingers, finding it's honestly nicer than most he's seen at home. Hm.

"I suppose death must strip us of some of the things we could do in life. I thought I could crush those rock spirits with a good hard kick, but all it did was hurt me." Immensely frustrating.
sauntered_downward: ([eyes] contemplative)

[personal profile] sauntered_downward 2019-12-09 01:48 am (UTC)(link)
"Part of the reason we need to get out of this place," Crowley says. "Get back to where our powers are what they're supposed to be. Back where we don't have----"

He gestures to the door, where all of the monsters are out there, waiting for them.

"You know. Our green eyed superfans waiting to nab us for an autograph."
callada: (Cool Dude TM)

[personal profile] callada 2019-12-09 03:19 am (UTC)(link)
"It sounds nice," he admits, "But I'm not holding my breath on finding a way back. If there's a way, it's through that portal, and who knows how to control it."

The controls themselves are clearly located within the lighthouse. Robin has said as much, publicly. But she barely knows how to use them after two decades at the helm. Sure, others here might pick it up quicker - for he's beginning to get the idea that Robin, for all her experience as Keeper, is either not very bright or not very curious - but they won't be getting to try any time soon.

He pockets the bullets and powder, and gives Crowley a nod. "Thanks for these, though. If I find anything out about a way back, I'll keep you updated. I know you're not alone in feeling trapped here."
sauntered_downward: ([eyes] backshot)

[personal profile] sauntered_downward 2019-12-09 03:24 am (UTC)(link)
That's----surprisingly actually kind of nice. Crowley usually only has people tell him they want to find a way out of here when they're screaming at him to not try so damn hard to try to get out of here. This person at least is willing to collaborate. And, luckily for Crowley, doesn't seem to want Crowley to properly ask for collaboration, which is always good.

"If we can't get them awake soon, I'm going to the Lighthouse," he says. "Let you know what I find up there."
callada: (nothing to see here)

[personal profile] callada 2019-12-09 04:42 am (UTC)(link)
It's still a terrible idea, but he does sort of want Crowley, or someone, to succeed one of these tries. He already knows Crowley is headstrong and not going to be convinced not to go, and hell, maybe flight will even get him there. If he dies, he might come back. If he doesn't return, one less problem for them to deal with.

"Sounds good," he says with a nod, a note of concern in his voice. "If you make it, at least do one thing? Don't kill Robin. I'm sure you can find plenty of information without resorting to murder."
sauntered_downward: (Default)

[personal profile] sauntered_downward 2019-12-11 02:00 am (UTC)(link)
"Why not?" Crowley demands, ignoring the concern in the man's voice. "She's the one who started all of this. She's got the spirits pointed right at us, and she's not around now."

To Crowley, that's as good a sign of guilt as anything. He's never gotten along with authority figures in general, of course.