logsinthenight | INTRO LOG: DECEMBER

INTRO LOG: DECEMBER

characters: everyone.
location: the harbor, as well as the rest of town.
date/time: december 1-3.
content: beacon's newest batch of residents arrives on the ferry. robin posts a bulletin.
warnings: n/a.

welcome to beacon.

It's dim, and the room won't stop swaying, gently rocking you back and forth. A loud sound startles you fully awake, a deep, moaning call: a foghorn. As your eyes adjust, you note faint red light streaking through the room from a tiny, round window.

You've found yourself in a private room, lying on a bed. The last things you remember are the events that led up to your death. Beside you is a folded tablet and a lantern glowing with a healthy flame.

You're on a ship. And that ship is docking.

Making your way to the deck, and eventually the pier, you find only moonlight to greet you, and a dark forest beyond. There are other people here, each with their own unique lantern, and many of them look just as lost as you are. On the ferry you've just disembarked from, the speaker system begins to play a song.

In the distance, across the waters of the lake, you can see the tall silhouette of a lighthouse, its red light slowly turning.

•••
The ferry has barely docked when everyone's tablets will ping: A new weekly bulletin has been posted!

...Aaaaaanyway, luckily for all the newcomers, the tablet and the town have some resources available for getting acquainted with their new situation! In fact, as soon as they're prompted to enter a network username, an app containing all sorts of useful welcome information will launch. Newcomers can always check out the weekly bulletins and the records in town hall as well, and everyone's welcome to get in touch with the NPCs through their inboxes.

ooc.

Hey there, wonderful players, and welcome to In the Night! You've happened to come at a chaotic time, as we've just wrapped up a rather large event. Half the town was stuck in a dreamland version of past Beacon, where they explored for clues about the town's history. The other half stayed awake and defended the town from a brutal onslaught of green-eyed, hallucination-inducing forest spirits. The town's pretty haggard after all that, so hey, there's a conversation starter! It'll be good to have some fresh faces around to help with the recovery process.

You can check out the various Enter Mr. Sandman event posts in the OOC and log comms if you're curious, and plenty of the details will likely come up ICly, as well! The aftermath is just beginning, and we're so glad to have you along for the ride. :)

DELIVERIES

The following packages can be found in the cargo hold:

The monthly store restock
For Eliot: A carton of cigarettes
For Prompto: 17 pairs of reading glasses
For Eleven: A pair of walkie-talkies, and enough batteries to last for 3 months of casual use
For Aziraphale: 12 drums, 11 lead pipes, 10 pairs of shoes, 9 wilting corsages, 8 bottles of milk, 7 taxidermy swans, 6 goose eggs, 5 stale onion rings, 4 bins full of duck armies, 3 dead chickens, 2 turtles, and a whole tree, though it's long dead... and strung with lights and garlands and holiday ornaments!
For Kol: A book
For Crowley: Peppermint extract, cream of tartar, a candy thermometer, a tin of cocoa, graham crackers, a generic bottle of red wine, a t-shirt with a crown logo on it, a book of love poems, and the goods
For Eleven: An assortment of wrapping paper, gift tags, ribbons, bows, and gift bags.
A lot of medical supplies. The supplies are plentiful enough that everyone may handwave finding common first aid supplies that will help to triage injuries sustained during the Enter Mr. Sandman event. The supplies won't immediately cure wounds, but they will help to prevent infection and ensure proper healing. There's even an assortment of painkillers, ranging from over the counter pills to IV morphine (though, hm, it seems each character will only be able to find one dose of the hospital-grade stuff, no matter how hard they search)

If you submitted an item request last month and we've missed it here, let us know!

QUICKNAV
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You were created by humans?

[It cants its head. You have its attention, Mary.]

Edited 2019-12-16 19:15 (UTC)

[There's a remarkable amount of tension in its large body as she approaches it- like a wild animal that has been cornered. Intelligent though it might be, that is precisely what it is- a powerful, wild animal, caught in a trap.]

Perhaps. The converse of having the right to live in this world is knowing that you must leave it, eventually.

[Honestly, it didn't think its untimely death would come so soon, but at least Giovanni was left without satisfaction. Mt. Quena on the other hand might be suffering, but it can do nothing about that.]

And what do they call these other "inhuman things?"

[Behold, a child's curiosity underneath all that gruff baritone voice.]

Australia? No. New York. [ She's got a heavy accent for it, too. ] I can't exactly claim to be friendly with kangaroos, but I'm very familiar with the Upper West Side.

[ Maybe this is what she needs. A little calm, a little sense of normalcy. Midge isn't good at a lot here--oh she's good, but she has no powers, she's not even from the time that everyone else seems to be--but she's got intuition, charm and wit. May as well use it to help out other people. ]

I understand.

[And they absolutely do. It's hard to find things to do around here, sometimes, without jobs to do. Without a proper mission.]

That's why I ask people. Others are better at coming up with tasks than I am. What are you good at?

[Mary nods mournfully.]

Father painted me, and I was hung up in a big gallery for people to come and gawk at. And then I was left all alone in the dark, where nobody could see me.

Then it's a good thing I made a brisket ahead of time. C'mon. [ She gently grabs at Pyrrha's wrist--no time to waste, it's time to head to the inn--and keeps talking. ]

My name's Miriam, by the way. You can just call me Midge.

Did not know there was one. [ It's sincere, though despite the small smile, it looks a little pained. She's got to get used to new technology. ]

Apparently being from the 50s means I'm four steps fashionable and five steps behind on literally everything else.

Spirits.

[She stops, keeping a healthy distance between them. She's close enough to study him, but not close enough to reach, and that will have to be enough for now. For what it's worth, she really doesn't want to hurt him.

(Which isn't to say she never would. Heaven knows she's eager to dissect the spirits. But knowledge is her ultimate goal, and right now, a peaceful interaction will teach her more than violence ever could).]

They vary in size, shape, and function. Most are wild, although some live in town, and interact peacefully with us, helping. There's the Librarian, the Postmaster General . . . I believe there's some sort of crab-like vendor on the other side of town. The ones in the forest are more violent.

Counter-productive? Maybe. But it would not be the first time I was kept confused about my circumstances in order to better serve someone's ambitions.

[It's projecting pretty hard right now.]

[Blowing... shit... up.]

I was created to be the strongest Pokemon in existence. Before coming here, my power was limitless. There was little I could not do. Here I am uncertain about my limits, only that I know I am inhibited.

[This is unfortunately relatable.]

And you found a way to escape?

[That seems strange, but what does it know of paintings. It only knows of creations and rebelling against creators and those who would control it.]

Edited 2019-12-16 21:35 (UTC)

They have much in common with other Pokemon, then.

[It will have to meet these spirits. They won't be close enough to kin, but it supposes it will have to choose something to be comfortable with and humans will always make it just a bit nervous.]

I may feel more comfortable among them, myself.

[Oh hey, they have something in common! The Soldier is pretty good at blowing shit up, too. Or making heads explode from high-caliber rifle shot. Or just killing in general.]

Most people are inhibited here, at least a little. Something about being dead. Maybe. Or the nature of the place. My strength doesn't appear to be affected. But my healing factor is.

Perhaps. I wouldn't recommend it, however.

[There's a large scar running down her face, over her throat; her left eyes is covered by a patch, and she taps it gently.]

They killed a great many of us, and injured the rest. They may not react well to you.

( it sure is awkward. look, she's been the big cat in a little room, she'll do Mewtwo a favor and not point it out. it's because she's such a good person, and also bc this kitty looks like it would be trouble if it decided she was a problem. Carmilla might hate living, but she hates dying more, so she will usually avoid making lethal enemies when she can.

it doesn't take that long to get to the bridge, or... what she assumes is the bridge, considering it's welded closed. )

That's it, ( she agrees dryly with an exaggerated frown. ) Usually a padlock does the trick, it's almost like they're afraid of what we could do if we get in there.

i'm pretty ambivalent toward synonyms
and if we're not dead, what are we? stuck in limbo, or something?

... why wouldn't it be?

( she has a weird thought process, pete. sorry. )

( it's an interesting thing to think about, when she does, wondering whether or not there are multiple universes, multiple versions of her and her friends and her family … like maybe there's a universe out there in which she didn't get blown up in space.

way to be morbid, pidgeon. good job.

she has a feeling that he's humoring her when he tells her to stand up — but she does, unfolding herself from a position she's been in long enough to find joints popping as she goes, and she pulls herself up to her full height. a whole four feet and eleven inches.

the sad thing is she's probably not going to get taller. if she could just get to five feet by the time she stops growing, period … well, it's not ideal, but she'll take what she can get. it's not like she really has a choice. )

Don't lie to me, okay? ( she laughs a bit under her breath, squaring her shoulders. ) I mean, it would be nice if there was some version of me that wasn't this short. But I'd bet real money that height deficiency runs all across the board.

( what a boss ass last name, dude. )

scientia? that's your real last name?
that's pretty cool

( nerd! sorry, ignis. )

okay fair
what's the going rate for skills like that around here?

that's a really sad thought
funny
but sad

Assigned by Robin, I think. He must've been concerned about it during the time of his own group and showed he could be responsible with it. He's from before Doctor Ingram. Not sure exactly how long.

[It's times like this he remembers not everyone reads the network as obsessively as he does. It's not just that he's been here a little longer, but that he has to accumulate every fact he can and figure out how to tie them all together.]

( she knows it's a lot to ask him to sit tight, to wait for her to come find him — hell, it would have been too much for her if he'd asked the same thing, and they both know it, too much alike for it to be anything different — but she knows exactly where he is, and it won't take her very long to get to him, though it stands to reason that it's still too long with the way her heart is suddenly racing in her chest.

she'd thought she was alone. she'd thought she was alone and it would have been fine, because it meant that the others were safe, alive, and putting things back together as they should be.

it would have been fine.

it takes everything in her not to run to him when she finally gets her eyes on him, racing heart now sitting in the back of her throat like maybe she'd imagined the whole thing. maybe she'd been more upset by the idea of being alone here than she'd originally wanted to admit —

but here he is. here he is, right in front of her with his hand on her shoulder and she takes one more step closer to him, breathing out a shaky little sound that might be relief, and it might be something else. ) You are, too. ( her voice is small, and she swallows thickly. ) I'm … I'm sorry you're here. I thought— ( she bites her bottom lip, worries at it. ) I didn't see you on the ferry, I didn't see anyone we know, and I just kind of assumed … ( she shrugs, tries to make it a light thing. )

I figured it was just me.

[Maes was definitely humoring her, but he didn't see the harm in it. He had no plans in lying though. However, he does at least take his time in replying and then shakes his head.]

Sorry, afraid the height's the same with at least one version of yourself. But, on the plus side, at least you aren't the shorter version either.

[Small victories, right? He drops back into his seat again.]

Anything else you'd like to know? I'm afraid I can't tell you much about any particular differences. It's not like I got the full detailed story of what you and your friends got up to aside from fighting an evil empire using a giant transforming robot...thing.

[He'd picked up on pieces of course and the general idea of what Team Voltron was up to, but if she was wanting to know specifics about it, he couldn't say for sure.]

Everything about arriving here aside, are you settling in okay?

it's fine
i mean
it's not, of course
but if me being here means everyone else survived, i'm okay with it

Yeah, the afterlife I was prepared for was supposed to have some perks. Didn't play out that way unfortunately.

[Thankfully, Jason wasn't going to dwell on that long. It just wasn't helpful in the long term to linger on disappointments.]

And maybe it doesn't have to be a fort long term...we just have to figure out how to better communicate with the spirits so they don't attack us in the future like they did the two times before. There's got to be some way to work with them.

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INTRO LOG: DECEMBER

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a week later i'm still having feels about this, sorry i'm so slow right now though!

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no worries, this past week or so has been kind of nutty for me too

please reach things on high shelves for her, pyrrha ...

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