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]

Quentin snorts and raises his eyebrow at Riku before he heads out the door. "Uh huh, because I'd do that? Leave without you-- jesus. I won't. I'll wait."

The rope is in the pile of supplies near the weapons, and there's a plastic bucket, too. Quentin brings both, poking his head in to the room of the sleepers on his way there. And on his way back. Making sure the chests are raising and falling, that the flames are still burning brightly.

He's got the bow over his shoulder and the quiver on his back once he reaches the exit, the rope is coiled around his waist, holding the bucket and his lantern is still swinging from his belt-hoop where Riku put it months ago.

Until Riku gets there, Quentin is going to stay by the wall, hands moving through the best spells, the defensive ones and the ones to help others. He's gotten better at healing? So, there's that. Like the shield spell, he's been doing the tuts so often in the past weeks, that it's almost automatic, the way his fingers twist against each other. He's humming softly under his breath.

[equinoctials]

There's a hollow bang when Riku returns because he's knocked one of the cans into a barricade on the way, he's usually fairly quiet and controlled, but as the siege has stretched out longer, Riku's gotten a little clumsy. Fatigue and stress whittles away at all of them and sometimes in different ways.

"Let's get moving," he announces, as if he's been the one waiting for Quentin.

That's obviously not the case, and less obviously, not the way that Riku means it. Sometimes he just doesn't "people" as well as his more gregarious and highly social friends, and when there's something to get done he tends to discard some of the softer skills people employ.

[moderatelymaladjusted]

It's too early in the morning or too late at night, Quentin doesn't even know because days and nights bleed together and time seems to lose all meaning as this drags on. waking up from short naps, curled up close to Eliot or sitting up against the wall, bow clenched in his hand like he can't even relax enough in sleep to not stand guard.

But it feels like it could be morning. In those early house before daybreak, when the world slows down even in places like New York, and when it feels like he's the only one awake. Him and Riku.

Quentin just nods at the sharp tone, Riku's got nothing on Margo when she was on a mission, or wanted coffee and it hits him out of nowhere, this aching longing for home. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself before following Riku outside.

"Let's just get this done."

The stream isn't that far away, but in these conditions, it might as well be on the other side of the moon with how dangerous this is. Stupidly dangerous, but that's just how it is now. Weighing one life against the survival of the others, and hoping that whatever gets them will make it quick.