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logsinthenight2021-03-15 02:34 pm
nextnightmods) wrote in logsinthenight2021-03-15 02:34 pm
Entry tags:
EVENT LOG: WHEN THE NIGHT IS OVER
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.
| QUICKNAV | |||
| comms | | | network β’ logs β’ memes β’ ooc | |
| pages | | | rules β’ faq β’ taken β’ mod contact β’ player contact β’ calendar β’ setting β’ exploration β’ item requests β’ full nav | |
no subject
I don't know. But, I can theorize.
[it's like he's been waiting ages for the right moment to theorize]
Some of the information we uncovered over time suggested that the World Eaters consume light. I have wondered, ever since, if killing one would release the light it consumed - if, it does not literally eat the light, convert it to darkness or whatever, but merely stores it. Perhaps what is out there is something like that, light released from the carcass of the consumer.
cw: ear horror
Sorry...I didn't catch all that. One of those bastards got me good, right in the ear.
[Some blood from that would still stains his collar and crusts around his earlobe.]
You were saying something about storing light?
[His gaze follows the light to shore and he looks down between his feet to see a tiny sprout of grass.
No, impossible!
He shakes his head and looks again. He squints at it with one eye then another... Each time he sees the same thing: A small, green tuft peaking out between the pebbles.]
Look!
[With a sharp gasp he lifts his gloved hand and points downward.]
poor Link
Yes, it was only a theory. That the World Eaters do not completely get rid of the light they consume, it's still inside them in some form. It is only a guess...
[the startled cry and the point work to redirect him from idly pontificating about light to see a most splendid sign of life]
...ah! It's...real. Not a dark shadow version of a plant, a real plant.
no subject
[Link crouches down and gently brushes his fingertips over the grass. It's the first true sign of hope he's seen in far too long.]
...Life is coming back. Maybe you're right about the world's light being trapped in that...thing.
[Well, life is coming back to the world at least... The people they'd lost are still gone.
Suddenly just the effort of crouching becomes too much and he falls backwards into a sprawl.]
I mean...it is over, right? That thing is dead?
[After all of this time it's almost hard to believe.]
no subject
I'm no expert, but it looks quite dead to me. If it hasn't so much as stirred in hours to try to go a second round, I feel it fair to say it's done.
no subject
You've really been helping us out through all this, you know? Thanks...I never knew what the Hell I was doing.
no subject
...but nah. Later. Right now, relaxing.]
And yet, you have been one of our most reliable. A strong hand and heart, always responding when a call went out for help. Your blade has saved more than one of us. [for that, Link deserves genuine respect; Zihuan rests his fist against the opposite palm over his heart, bowing slightly]
no subject
...I guess.
My strength hasn't been able to save nearly enough, though.
We've lost so many people... Compared to when we started there's only a tiny number of us left.
[Which is better than there being nobody left but it still pains him to think about all the friends he's made and lost. Just the memory of Sora's face makes him flinch.]
no subject
A single person can never save everyone. And even when we are all united, fate still slips in and steals some from you. There is no perfect campaign. We can only do our best and save enough.
[though he doesn't mention that there's a lot who got themselves killed through their own machinations, unable to be saved by anyone. It would undercut his message and also paint them as dumbasses...though there might be a dumbass or two among the lost]
To be honest, we are spoiled. Being already dead, we have the luxury of repairing lanterns, something the truly living cannot expect. Our second, third, fourth chance is more than most people in the universe will ever see.
no subject
...I guess I never really thought about it that way.
Sometimes it was hard to remember everyone here was dead. Being dead has sure felt a lot like being alive did.
no subject
Yes, I am quite grateful to have not lost the ability to get drunk or taste delicious food. Or even the terrible food from other worlds, either way. I don't enjoy terrible things but it does mean we still have some sort of ability to taste and feel.
[lookin' at you sugary spirit cookies]
no subject
I haven't minded the food.
Maybe coulda done without the ability to get sick and tired, though, you know?