logsinthenight | 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!

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There's a lot to be done. Buildings could use some fixing up. I just finished working on a boat, so I'll be heading out on the lake soon to see what else there is to find out here. Some people are working on the spirits' language, there's a community garden in case the ferry falls through again, and there's always more parts of the old town to try and locate so we can work out what happened to this place.

[Oh, did you mean something fun? He glances down at her with a raised eyebrow. Yeah, there's music and games and whatever, but he'd rather make sure these people are prepared to do more than sit around and kill time by entertaining themselves.]

Dr. Lutece might be looking for assistants with her projects, too, and there's always the gym and combat training if you want to polish those skills.

( she wrinkles her nose at literally... all of that. hard labor? uh, big pass. the only boat she's ever enjoyed had been a yacht, and there'd been unlimited champagne on it. she likes the black to be on top of her fingernails and not underneath of them, and talking to spirits doesn't sound a great deal better than talking to literally anybody else. no comment on going to the gym or being a lab rat, those are so far out of the question she doesn't even bother to consider them. )

Ugh. I'd rather sit in the dark and wait for the next mauling.

( yeah, so....... expecting her to be helpful is probably an ambitious idea. )

Should probably add, then, that we have about a year and a half left to work out what's going on and why the world's gone dark. At the end of the countdown is when the lighthouse keeper estimates creatures from the stars she calls World Eaters are likely to descend on us and kill us all if we haven't come up with a way to deal with them.

[And as cool as this sword might be, and as magical and talented as some of these people are, sitting around and twiddling thumbs and waiting to try and hack chunks out of World Eater legs does not sound like it'll do much good.]

Nobody here's going to force you to help, but I'd recommend it.

Yeah, yeah, I listened to the welcome message. If that's what you can call whatever that was.

( she's too old to be stupid, she has acquainted herself with as much as this place as she can. already, despite just arriving. why? god, who knows. not for survival, because she's already dead! she did it on purpose, yes, but nobody warned her that killing her mother with the sword of Hastur would just stick her in a new, even shittier life after death. (she's still too sore on the subject to admit saving the world was probably worth slumming it in pitch darkness.)

which is a part of why she's not exactly chomping at the bit to become Susy Homemaker, nightmare edition, or ... build things. ugh. )

I'm already dead. Why is being double dead in a year and change supposed to make me want to keep house around here?

Guess it depends on how much you end up thinking you hate this place. I'm grateful for the second chance. Would hate to waste it.

[But if she's insistent on not being helpful, fine. Not what he wants to see but it's better than being actively destructive like some people are. Actually, it's kind of a surprise how few people just want to sit around and drink and ignore the larger problems at hand, but they've been somewhat united by the attacks they've suffered through. Perhaps she just needs time to see the value in teamwork.]

( thinking she hates it? oh, no, she's not uncertain on that part. she's 100% certain she hates it. not that Beacon has done much to earn it, it's just that it's for sure not where she planned on or wanted to be. so of course she's going to hate it on principle.

she glances at him with dark eyes, just for a moment, at the reference of being grateful for a second chance. it is just the sort of talk she both reviles and admires. it's the sort of thing someone who hasn't already had centuries of chances that they've either ignored, wasted, or bombed would say. she didn't want another chance. and since she didn't ask for it, she's not feeling a strong compulsion to make something of it at the moment, either. )

Grateful to be stuck in this shithole? You must have left behind an even bigger disaster. ( very... kind, Carmilla. as always. ) The hotel is the obvious place to slum until I find somewhere else, right? So I'm going there. Can you make it that far?

( he's not making a big deal about the limp, but apparently she is aware of it. )

[Yes, he would rather be home. It would have been nice to not have died so young, and so violently. Would have been vastly preferable to raise the boy he'd given his life to save. But he's here now and he's making the best of it.]

Yeah. Leg's a little awkward, but it's better than it was a few days ago. It's not bad enough to keep me from getting around.

[So he'll just keep going that direction - since she's right, it's the most convenient place to start off.]

Dunno if there are empty rooms, but you can ask around. Some people might be interested in taking a roommate.

( that's adorably optimistic of you, Rosiante. Carmilla hasn't managed optimism since the late 1800s. she's fresh out of silver linings over here, so being grateful is a bit outside of her capacity at the moment. especially since she was pretty at peace with the idea of just... not existing anymore. being trapped in another undeath and a super shitty one at that? she's sincerely over it.

someone else might have argued, or worried. Carmilla just shrugs around her moderately sized cooler of blood and heads off that way. she doesn't even bother walking slowly — even with a limp, Rosiante could outpace her easily. he doesn't really know what he's said, or why it earns a husky mutter of a laugh. )

Perfect. ( not even in this brand new hellish existence, can she have a space to herself. seems about right. as long as her roommate is not anything like Laura, hopefully she can scare them out in a few days. she's pretty good at being a terrible roommate. ) I'll figure something out. I always do.

INTRO LOG: DECEMBER

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