logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: WHEN THE NIGHT IS OVER

Entry tags:

EVENT LOG: WHEN THE NIGHT IS OVER

characters: everyone.
location: Everywhere
date/time: March 15
content: The World Eater arrives.
warnings: probable violence, gore, death; mark threads as needed

Everyone here was brought to Beacon for this one reason: to try and find a way to strike back at the thing that threatens to end the world entirely. You've spent the entire time learning, preparing, and for many, making this dead world your home. You've made friends with each other but also with the forest spirits, you've discovered much of the town's past and have set out to ensure its future.

This is the moment that every decision, and every person, shall finally come together, or be lost forever.

i feel the weather change

At the missile silo, Weaver and those helping her have been busy for over a week straight hammering scrap metal into place, wiring the controls to the launch system, and running new cables from the silo to Solis' lab to get the place set back up onto the Beacon power grid - a feat possible only because several batteries were recovered from the power station some time ago. Disassembled drone pieces lie scattered for easy repurposing, and networked tablets allow easy network chatter between the silo and anyone at the Helix Station who has offered to observe from the lake.

In the distance, those around the missile silo begin to hear an eerie droning hum. Weaver's eyes go wide and her ears lay back against her head. "It's here," she says with a shudder, then quickly bounds over to the control system. "That's the sound that the lighthouse used for the reset. If I don't need you down here, get up top, and get ready to fight."

At ground level above, the snarls and warbled growls of spirits call back, but immediately, there's rapid movement in the trees and some of those calls are cut short with a gurgle. Masked figures with green eyes dart through the brush, giving the silo a wide berth as they move in to fight, but those who would be allies must be outnumbered as aggressive forest spirits, both green-eyed and otherwise, break through into the clearing and seek out the people of Beacon. Their many-eyed leader has been kept occupied, but these ones are still looking to pick off every creature with a lantern. It's time to stand and fight before they make it to those still below, who are preparing to aim and launch the largest bomb Weaver has ever built. If this wasn't difficult enough, the green-eyed spirits are up to their usual tricks - you may find yourself suddenly fighting someone who looks just like your best friend, or perhaps your own animated, dismembered body - a cruel vision of what might soon come to pass. They are fast, they are ruthless, and only with the effects of the potions will you be able to shake off these horrible visuals, so make good use of them.

i hear the river say your name

Those at Helix notice it first - the droning hum that had first been noticed as a minor vibration in the hull swells in volume until it can be heard throughout the station. Thanks to the tablet network, they hear when those at the silo do that the sound is the speech of the World Eater - and it must be very, very close.

Inside the station there's little means to act directly against it; however, you'll find yourselves plenty occupied anyway. The little spirits (and the large corpse-wearer, shrouded in decaying bodies) that had previously been docile and had tucked themselves into hidden corners in the station scurry boldly out of hiding, with teeth and claws at the ready to devour and dismember anyone they find. And proximity to the World Eater once again has its effects - you may feel nauseous, disoriented, or despairing; you may find that it's hard to breathe, that your fingernails fall off their digits, or that sabotaging your fellows is the only way to survive. The potions help substantially, even if the effects aren't completely removed, so drink up, stand your ground, and keep an eye on those tablets to help let those at the silo know when to fire, and if they've succeeded.

Because eventually the creature itself is visible against the night sky over the lake, a void in the place where stars should be, and that means it's close enough to be targeted.

i watch the birds fly by

Soon, Beacon Square and the harbor as well as the general reaches of town become a dangerous place to be, but perhaps you feel you need to brave the run - to get supplies, to check on your friends, to flee and hide as spirits emerge to do the World Eater's bidding. There aren't many, thankfully - for those who care commanded by the many-eyed spirit are busy fighting those at the silo and the green-eyed allies, and nearly every friendly spirit seems to have gone missing. But alone and in the open without anyone to back you up if you need help is a frightening prospect, made even worse when you see the distant figure silhouetted over the lake, vastly taller than anything else you've seen since arriving.

The disruption from all the fighting must have delayed the launch, or perhaps something else went wrong. Just looking at the World Eater from a distance creates a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as it takes one long stride after another, drawing nearer to the town and singing that eerie song that drives the spirits to hunt you and to destroy everything you've built.

And then, suddenly, you hear something else. A counter-drone, a song like birds, like cicadas, like howling wolves and the strange whistle-warbles of the spirits, all merging into one. It's sung from every tree all around, and it drowns out that jarring hum of death.

The spirits so bent on drawing blood and viscera slow, and listen.

The World Eater slows, one foot raised into the air, then swings its head, seeking the source and finding it everywhere. And that's when it happens.

At the missile silo, Weaver has been successfully defended, but just barely. One of the spirits got to her before it could be killed, and a horrible gash has ripped through her clothing and the fur of her back. Her lantern is flickering desperately when she presses the button, and the makeshift missile roars and arcs into the sky.

From the square or the lakeshore, or for those watching monitors at Helix, the streak of vapor from the bomb's tail vanishes somewhere high above. And then moments later, it drops - landing not on the World Eater, but into the lake at its feet.

Rather than a blinding light, the tablet monitors go fully black as an intense roar and rush of water fills the audio channel, and the Helix Station shakes horribly, creaking and groaning as the rush of water from elsewhere in the lake strains every element of its construction. The noise and the confusing darkness persist for several minutes. It feels much longer.

But eventually, the darkness diminishes as stars shine through the mist and ongoing falling rain. There's still a tall column of water vapor in the air over the lake - it stays for nearly half an hour, slowly dissipating as powerful waves smash into the shore, triggering a small series of tsunamis that swallow the harbor and threaten, but never fully inundate, Bonfire Square.

The towering void has buckled where it stood, and only a few pitch-black spines jut out from the surface of the lake before they are slowly swallowed by its returning waters.

i see an emerald in the sky

When the spirits stop singing, the rain persists. Clouds billow up into the sky over the lake, and fall back down. The droplets are warm - warmer than the frigid air, than the ice and snow that surrounds the town.

The damage has been limited - most of the buildings still stand, for there were too few spirits that sought to attack, and those that did now sit in place or pace around curiously as if they hadn't just tried to tear out your intestines and dismantle The Invincible - which, actually, hasn't even seen a single scratch, as suits its optimistic name.

Many of Beacon's people may be injured, and many may be dead. But those whose lanterns still burn bright now find themselves in a slowly thawing world, as the deep and endless winter seems ready to launch into a new spring. Cautious and curious, spirits watch from the trees, then point out at the lake and chitter with excitement.

There is light in the water. It funnels upward from the foam left by the bomb, and with each ever-gentler wave, it touches the shore. And in a few tiny patches of sand, sheltered between rocks, green grasses begin to sprout.

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I. Missile Prep - Silo

Soldat spends most of their time helping Weaver get the missile silo ready for action, and the missile(s) in question ready for deployment. They even skip patrols when needed, though they never miss lunch in the Invincible, and they sleep like the dead they technically are for the four hours late at "night" they allow themselves. (Midday sleep is done as a catnap in the silo itself, in a corner.)

But it's coming into shape, and it's important. They're learning all sorts of things about wiring and explosives. Not that they didn't know plenty about bombs before, but usually it would be C4 or grenades, not plutonium in a warhead.

II. Showtime - Silo

And then it's time. Soldat convinces Misty to stay in the silo itself to guard Weaver, while they prowl around directly outside of it, a knife in one hand and a handgun in the other. Their rifle is slung over the opposite shoulder as their lantern, ready to swing around if a threat at range presents itself.

They keep their other defenders within sight as much as possible, letting the points of their lanterns guide their attention as much as their focus on rustles and calls in the woods. Anyone in trouble may find themselves suddenly with their attacker felled, or at least distracted, by a rifle shot out of the dark.

III. Aftermath - Silo, Invincible

There are too many spirits for Soldat to come out of the fight unscathed. They're too desperate to keep Weaver safe and get the bomb out safely, for their one chance to maybe save this world and stop the rest of the World Eaters out in the rest of the universe, to be entirely focused on their own safety.

So when the bomb goes off, while they wait for confirmation from Helix Station, while the spirits flee from the site of the missile launch, they slump to the ground, panting, flesh hand pressed to a bad gash in their side that managed to get through the kevlar and leather, and finally recognizing the blood soaking one leg. They're bleeding from one brow, which they did notice since it kept getting in their eyes, and the metal arm is whining unhappily, overheated again.

But they're still, and quiet, and listening to the fading hum of the spirits. Did they do it? They didn't bring their tablet onto the battlefield, so someone will have to let them know.

The first task is to check the wounded, including themselves. The second task is to collect lanterns to return to the lab and let... anyone who is still there... do repairs. The third task is to limp into the Invincible and wearily dole out bowls of their ever-simmering siege stew, the only meal they have the energy for, but knowing no one can get energy without food.

IV. Plans - Around Beacon

Once they can fucking walk again, patrols resume. A lot of time is spent lingering at the lakeshore, staring at the glow, at the grass... A lot of time is spent seeking out the spirits, hoping for answers. Hoping for friends.

A lot is spent sitting in the Invincible, watching things cook and thinking. They're not gone. The world is coming back, and the dead are not vanishing. There are choices to be made, that they never considered before.

They don't know what to do, now.

He will of course make it all of thirty impaired feet before met with a Misty, satisfied that the mission is as accomplished as they're capable of seeing through and chillingly, harrowingly nervous.

With good cause, one could surmise, the way her eyes widen at the sight of him.

"Holy shit- are you okay? Soldat?" Good enough to move, but she knows well enough how misleading that can be. The approach is a jog, to an abrupt halt, hands hovering and eyes flying from one appendage to the next. Assessing, guessing, imagining worst case scenarios. "Which is worst? And can you make it inside, or are we doing this here?"

It's a ways to get to the Invincible, Soldat may have stopped to lean on a tree outside the open area around the silo. The lab is closer, but like hell they're going to go in there.

They're so tired and distracted they actually miss Misty's approach, and jerk in surprise at her sudden curse. "I'm. I've had worse." They give a strangled almost-laugh at that, verging on hysterical. "Leg is worst. I think." The tac vest protected them from at least some of the abdomen cuts, and the one over their eye is shallow. Head wounds just bleed a lot.

"Down." Meaning on the ground. It's covered enough here. No way he'd endure contact long enough for her to help him anywhere else.

She's kept a bag prepared, enough for anything short of mortal injury or surgery. "Had worse is never gonna be the brush-off you might want it to be, you know." Anyone acquainted with what he's had could say as much. "Leg first then, we'll work quick. Layer on, wrap, sit a minute and then get you inside to look over the rest, yeah?"

"Misty, no, I. I have to do my job." They do ease down, though, using the tree for support, since they can, and since it's right there. The last couple inches go in an uncomfortable slide and thump. Once sitting, though, they bring their lantern around to their lap with their bloody right hand... and the lantern hanging from the same strap. Pudding's. "Got to get it to the lab. Where it'll be safe. And the others can bring her back."

"How good are you gonna be at it if you bleed out?" She shoots back, a deadpan meant to bite while lacking any real teeth. The sentiment is too selfless to hate, after all. "I'm guarding the pack of you right now, those aren't going anywhere."

All the while she's appraising his leg, as best as one can without touching or turning it.

"First thing once you're bandaged, alright? You need it."

"Not gonna bleed out, Misty. Not even really sure if I can." They do kind of flinch at the word bandaged. But it's Misty. Misty's fine. She's not gonna hurt them. "I have some. In a pocket. Needle and thread for stitches if it needs it." They're pretty sure nothing needs stitches, though if anything does, it's the leg.

"Still weaker, still slower, so I'm still right."

Almost, almost a joke. Doesn't make her feel any better at his flinch. The tear in his pant leg is carefully pried further open - not so much that there's direct contact, but enough to assess damage. Lanterns in his lap are a help, at least.

"No stitches," she concludes, shaking her head and digging into her pack. "I'm going to give it a once over to clean it, and then just a bandage, alright?" He should know what to expect. Minimize surprise as much as possible. "Want to grab me whatever wrap you've got on hand?"

While he's working, a scrap of cloth is soaked and passed quickly and carefully over the wound. Another pass, a third, and it's clean enough. She pulls back, affords him space while she waits for bandages.

They make a little whine between their teeth, not from pain. Pain doesn't matter, they can ignore pain. But fear is harder to hide, these days. (Not afraid of a goddamn horde of spirits, but afraid of somebody cleaning you up. Christ. You're not much better! I'm a little better! Then you get out here and do it!)

The metal hand digs into the ground to keep it from shoving her away, and they fumble with the flesh one for the bandages in their tac vest's utility belt pocket. They don't hand the bundle of gauze and ace bandages over, though. "I can do it. I can. I can do it."

It hurts to hear, but she perseveres.

"Let me get salve on them, at least?" She asks with a sigh, nodding down at the bandages. "Something to speed it along, I want you back to you."

Okay. That's acceptable. They can do that. They hold them out, finally, resting on their hand. The edges are a little bloody, but most of the blood on that hand is dry, now, so it's not too bad. "I need a whole goddamn bath. Is what I need."

"Like I'd get you to so much as look at a bathtub until everyone's accounted for," she huffs, and for a second it's almost like the closest they've got to normal. No great potential success or failure looming overhead, no other shoe to dread dropping to shred the almost-peace.

Quick work is made of the bandages, nothing more complicated than lining the half that'll go to his skin.

"Wrap."

They look maybe pitifully relieved, and wipe their hand off on the dim gray grass as best they can before accepting it back. "Thank you. Guess you're right. Though. There's not many people to check on." They know this drill, propping their knee up a little and starting to wrap, tight enough to bind but not enough to restrict blood to the rest of their leg.

"Weaver?" they ask. "Will?" Because Will, to the mun's great surprise, was down with Weaver to help with the bomb.

Bucky/Soldat | OTA

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