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

[ her brow furrows, and repeats his question. ] Do I know what a bike is? Yes, of course. I haven't been locked in a basement for my entire life.

[ she watches him fumble a little more, and shakes her head. if it was just her that inspired this reaction she wouldn't be upset about that. she's spent the entirety of her teen years trafficking in fear. why would things change now. ] Let me help.

[ Cheryl approaches and carefully plucks some pieces of mostly clean looking trash that look like they're moments away from plummeting towards the ground. ]

There. Better.

Oh, hey! I didn't mean-- not everyone here knows what a bike is. Or what a phone is.

[It's not a recoil, but Quentin pays her a lot more attention when Cheryl walks closer and grabs at the trash in his arms, but he shakes his head without mentioning it. Why should he? Just standing around like an idiot with a bunch of garbage must seem pretty weird already, and commenting on how she got really close, would just be overkill.

Keeping the rest of the trash close, Quentin nods at the door and the hallway just beyond it and starts going that way.]

There's a bag for that just up here, in the room with, uh. It has a lot of tablets in it, I think. We had to put them somewhere and. Yeah, so just follow me and I'll show you.

[It's not far, the same way nothing in the armory is far. The rooms are cramped together and only the target range is out of the way from most of it. The weapons are still piled high close to the exit and Quentin hurries with getting his own armload of garbage in to one of the bags in the room before-]

I need my coat and my bow. Keep yours close. You're not bad at it. I'm Quentin, by the way.

[ she's not sure that she wants to ask about the pile of tablets. do they belong to people who were killed? is it possible that there's an even worse reason for all the discarded tablets? ]

Cheryl Blossom. It's a pleasure, I'm sure.

[ she discards her own trash, and dusts off her hands. ]

So tell me, Quentin, what sort of world did you come from before being trapped in this dark hole of despair?

Cheryl. Blossom? That's-- well, I guess that tracks, sure.

[With her red hair and wide eyes, sure. Why not. It really wasn't any weirder than Quentin's own name, so.

Leaving Cheryl by the doors, Quentin hurries on to the next room. The room they kept the sleepers in, for those last few days of fighting, and he shrugs in to his coat and gets his quiver and bow, slinging both over his shoulder.]

And you just-- walked here? From the ferry? That's-- uh, that's kind of impressive. Most people stop by the bonfire or the Invincible.

[ she hasn't even made any flower metaphors yet! you just wait.

Cheryl lifts her head a little at his question, and tosses her hair over her shoulder. ] A beautiful young woman such as myself must take all steps necessary to protect herself. Arming myself was a must before becoming waylaid by other distractions.

[ if you can call housing a distraction, that is. ]

Now that it's been taken care of, i can see to other matters.

[Just-- wow. Cheryl is neither soft-spoken or even slightly disturbed by any of this, she found weapons first thing and Quentin finds himself missing Margo like crazy. She would have done something similar, or she would have found a way to have the weapons brought to her, while she was taking a shower to wash off the road dirt.

But it's the same kind of steel-y personality, of taking no shit and ova-ing up to a challenge.]

Sure. Come on, if we take the bikes, we can be in town in half and hour and maybe all the room at the Inn won't be occupied. They might be, just. And all the cabins are full. But I'm sure you'll find something. Maybe you can find a room mate?

INTRO LOG: DECEMBER

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