logsinthenight | INTRO LOG: SEPTEMBER

INTRO LOG: SEPTEMBER

characters: everyone.
location: the harbor, as well as the rest of town.
date/time: september 1-3.
content: beacon's newest batch of residents arrives on the ferry. everyone gets a special gift, courtesy of the lighthouse keeper.
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 that glows steadily 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.

•••

Unlike the past two months, there's not a whole lot happening down at the dock today. It's quiet, disconcertingly so, after the foghorn blows once and then twice to signal the ferry's arrival. Winters is dead, and as such there's no one around to dole out the "need to know" info for the new arrivals.

Luckily, the tablet and the town do have some resources available for playing catch up! The Keeper's recent network post is available for everyone to read, and newcomers can always check out the weekly bulletins and the records in town hall. Everyone's also welcome to get in touch with the NPCs through their inboxes, too.

But, oh! In the ferry's cargo hold is a rather large crate addressed to the Postmaster General, and inside? A bunch of ocarinas! The Postmaster General, set up at their little stall, will be passing out ocarinas (free of charge!) to everyone that happens by. Anyone who doesn't come by the stall will receive one in their mailbox.

Shortly after the ferry arrives, a new message from the Lighthouse Keeper appears on the network:

Did everyone get their ocarinas? If you didn't, check your mailbox at the post office. There's plenty to go around. The extras will be in the general store.

You can use these to communicate with the forest spirits. Their language is based on musical notes, so you have to play little songs for them. Here's a couple of basic translations that should help you guys out:

The rest of the message contains playing instructions and example audio files for the following messages:

- A friendly greeting!
- An assurance that equates to "I come in peace".
- A short melody that translates roughly to polite terms like please, thank you, and you're welcome.
- A shrill note that asks for help.

Characters can use the ocarinas to communicate these phrases to the forest spirits (and are welcome to try learning or communicating other phrases), but keep in mind that there's not much plot info to be learned from the forest spirits, at least not for right now. These ocarinas won't exactly help you translate anything the forest spirits might say back, after all.

The Lighthouse Keeper won't be responding to that network post, but she can be contacted through her inbox!

ooc.

Hey there, wonderful players, and welcome to In the Night! For this intro log, you are officially without a chaperone. Rastus is back at the bonfire, Will is characteristically elusive, and Robin is, well, you know where she's at. It's up to the veteran residents to fill in the new folks.

We're also happy to introduce the YARD SARD... The Postmaster General will be appearing in any intro logs where a player formerly in the game has ordered something through Rastus but is no longer around to claim it! These items will still come in, but since they have no owner, they'll be available for other characters to claim. It's usually a first come, first serve situation, though the Postmaster General may turn folks away for any number of weird reasons. (OOCly, it's us attempting to spread the wealth among the playerbase.)

DELIVERIES

The following packages can be found in the cargo hold:

The monthly store restock
Two silver prosthetic pieces (they aren't a perfect fit, but they work well enough) for Polnareff
A few bottles of holy water, a pouch of powdered silver, and a magic wand (the wand doesn't have the permanence spell Elden was looking for, unfortunately; instead, it will temporarily change the color of its target to either pink or blue!) for Elden
Webfluid components (about a three month's supply) for Peter
A spice rack for Davina, and one for Ignis as well, plus a little geology kit with both of their names scribbled on the package and crossed out various times. Looks like these orders got a little mixed up! Everything each of them requested (plus a little extra) can be found among these packages, but they'll have to sort out what goes where
2 cartons of cigarettes, a flintlock pistol, and 100 rounds of ammo for it (though none for the shotgun, hm!) for Rosinante
A small assortment of dreamcatchers, all with a lot of feathers for Xayah
A flash drive (on which is a very simple app for Morse code translation! this can be passed around or uploaded to the network for many users to download) for Matt
A bounce house (small and with quite a few holes that need patching, but it'll get the job done; it's deflated, but it does have a built-in fan!) for Lunafreya

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

YARD SARD

The Postmaster General is here! They've set up a little stall on the dock, and have a couple of items for... sard?

~~A carton of cigarettes~~
4 2 boxes of .45 bullets
~~A sewing kit~~

If you would like to purchase an item from the Postmaster General, you can haggle with them below!

QUICKNAV
comms	\|	network • logs • memes • ooc
pages	\|	rules • faq • taken • mod contact • player contact • calendar • setting • exploration • item requests • full nav

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He remembered how it was to be a new arrival. The answers weren't enough to satisfy and he had been quick to gather supplies as well, knowing how others would want to scoop them up and likely hoard for their own personal gains. So it wasn't a surprise to see a blonde carrying more than she likely could on her own. When she waved him down, he didn't hesitate to join her, tired of his own thoughts and company.

He reached for some of the tools, taking the wait from her arms. She was tenacious, that much was clear and it didn't seem like she minded getting someone else to do the dirty work...so to speak.

"You think you got enough?"

It's decent of current residents to go to the effort, she supposes, but more use could have been made of a pamphlet and a backpack of essentials. Not that keeping busy seems to be bothering her any.

"If I knew there'd be takers I would have grabbed more," she states honestly, rolling her shoulders. It's a short lived pause before she's marching, trusting him to follow. "Starting from nothing, I'd rather catch up sooner than later." Small repairs to be done to the house she's claimed, she's quite seriously considering turning the street's yard into a garden, light stockpiling... This isn't riveting conversation, is it? Wariness needn't be cold.

"How long have you been here?"

"Anything you get is worth keeping. You might need it more than you think." He hasn't exactly followed that advice, but he knows the difference an extra blanket makes when camping. In this sort of place, foraging and hoarding would set apart those who would survive and those who couldn't. "If you're not careful, some might fight you for this."

It's meant as a joke...somewhat. "There will be more supplies, some specifically for you. It's a matter of being patient and keeping your eyes open." But this was coming from the man content to sleep in a tent by the bonfire with very little to his name.

"I was part of the first group that arrived here, after the reset. It's hard to say how long."

There's a short-lived smile, at that. That he understands the intent and acknowledges the danger others can pose in these situations, and does so pleasantly enough, reflects quite positively on him. And some stubborn, fiercer part of her might be inviting any potential thieves to try.

"Both of those I can do." Said gratefully, for what sounds like quite sound advice.

"How are the people? Fighting yet, keeping to themselves, picking leaders--?"

He can sense a stubbornness in her, as well as a fire to fight if needed. He always found himself drawn to those sorts of women and she was no different. He could almost picture her in a scuffle, he didn't doubt that she would come out with few bruises and scratches while her opponent would be sore for days.

"It depends on who you associate with. I haven't seen anyone picking leaders, but I've kept to myself these past few weeks. There was a scouting mission at one time, everyone got on well and worked together. You'll meet the occasional ass, but there's always on in every group."

There was an advantage though to being on the outside. He wasn't part of any drama.

"No asses worth naming yet, or are you just being kind?" There's no rush to get rid of the small, accompanying smile. He's struck out on the path she aims to, and what's more, he raises no alarms.

"Don't plan on keeping too close, myself." Tried it. Leads to trouble. "Hence...all this. Picked my place, now it's just stocking it and getting my bearings quietly."

"Most of those that I knew have disappeared. I don't know many of the others that are here. I've kept to myself after that first arrival and the sudden appearance of our headstones." So yes and no. Being alone seemed the safer course now that all of his allies were gone.

"Careful you don't go too far from the bonfire. So far I haven't seen anything in the woods, but I don't camp too far from in. Never let your lantern out of your sight. You'll feel the effects of death if someone takes it."

That separation from one's lantern presents mortal danger is new information, and her eyes widen accordingly. Though it, at least, can be believably slotted in with whatever spiritual symbolism is holding the place together. More pressing is confusion regarding:

"'Appearance of our headstones'?"

How to even begin to explain? He still couldn't discern why exactly this happened, only that it might be a sick joke of some kind. If it was this place or someone else, it was also a lingering question in his mind. Why show those things? Nothing good came from it.

"We found headstones and tombs, bearing a name for each person here. You would feel compelled to give an offering, when you did, you saw how the person died. We learned how each of us died."

They have by now reached her porch, and it is only with effort she tempers the urge to halt down to merely taking the stairs slowly. The gears turning in her head do so visibly, if one cares to mind her eyes. Shock and sympathy at a needlessly cruel effort to salt wounds. Profound fear that it may happen again, or only luck prevented her from being present for it. Bitter, biting curiosity - which of her deaths would have been seen, were she present? And satisfaction, though grim, in that she's never had a grave marker of any true kind, and it's enough to feel exempt.

The beat allowing for her response has gone on perhaps a touch too long. She slides back toward surprise. "I'm sorry. That something would throw that up for anyone to see, and I suppose that we're all dead to start with. Scrape by okay? Any sign it's going to happen again?"

Death was far too familiar for him. How often did someone have to reflect on how they died twice? The reminder didn't sting as much anymore, but it was likely because he had shut himself away from the guilt and pain that once had filled his mind. Her apology earned a tired smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. What was there really to be sorry about? They died, avoiding the truth wasn't going to make it easier.

"I don't know if it will happen again. There's been no sign of it since then." Which meant that there might be something else to come. Another test or another glimpse of the darkness. "It doesn't matter anymore if someone finds out how I died. We all share the same thing here. This is our afterlife."

Were those thoughts voiced, she'd envy them. She's on her fourth, and despite all efforts it only stings more with time. As it is, she merely admires his candor.

"Bolder than me, then. I'd have spent the whole time camped by mine, beating people off with a stick."

"Some did that." That actually makes him laugh. He doesn't doubt she's fierce, but the image of her chasing people away with a stick was one of the better things to have come out of all of this. "Not everyone was comfortable with it, but there wasn't a way to fight the draw to the tombstones."

He tried and failed. "I didn't want to stay by mine and see how many people witnessed my death."

Not the most heartening report, but the laugh at least puts her a little more at ease. Too little like it, she suspects, to be found locally. With her best facsimile of sage wisdom she counters, "There is if you're swinging hard enough."

The A-frame is largely unremarkable, so he's led in toward the kitchen table without ado. Getting her haul inside is the primary goal; sorting will happen as convenient.

"Have people talked about it much? I'd hope nobody is tone deaf enough to think it's a great icebreaker."

He looks around her newly chosen home with admiration. When he arrived, he didn't want to fight over territory or rooms, choosing to camp with his sister near the woods. These newly found homes were comfortable though and seemed to have enough for everyone. It was something to think about.

"It depends on who you talk to. A number of the first arrivals have disappeared, so not everyone remembers. Most want to keep what they saw to themselves." It was easier to keep busy than to think of these things. Helping her sort her things was a nice distraction from the things he had seen.

"From what I've heard, there are other matters that have taken everyone's attention."

Glances are noted with pleasure, falling comfortably short of pride. It's not breathtaking, but it's a project. Assuming he's holed up in The Invincible she notes, "Easier to light and easier to heat than a cabin. Should think about snatching one before winter."

Then a nod; this she understands with perfect clarity, having slid gracefully into 'keep busy, ignore it' territory herself.

"Hoping to get plots thrown up, hopefully. Greenhouse or two, because that ship can't be reliable. Much of a gardener?" He doesn't necessarily strike her as one, but more bizarre things have happened.

"I've lived out in the open in the cold before. It isn't a hardship for me." It wasn't so much obstinance as he hesitated to leave the place he had shared with Arya. He was alone now, but the familiar was still comforting. "I'm near enough to the bonfire to be comfortable."

It didn't slip his notice that she changed the subject. Another smile, another show of gratitude.

"No, I can't say I've gardened or farmed, but I've done repairs on structures and I hunt. I don't know if you have a use for that instead?" He at least had time to learn now.

It's an intriguing thing to imagine, and it shows. "From Louisiana, never seen more than a few inches of snow in my life - seemed better to play real safe, here." It's greener conversational pasture and his smile is an easy one to meet, which she does.

"I usually manage repairs myself, but I'll be glad to keep you in mind when I need the extra person." A pause, as there may be a learning opportunity there, "What do you use to hunt? Nothing I've ever tried my hand at."

"I've never been somewhere as warm as this before." Whatever might be said about this place, and he had his fair share of complaints, it was at least comfortable. He didn't need his cloak or all of the layers he had to wear in the North. The bonfire might not always warm him, but he never felt the same level as cold as he did at the Wall.

He wasn't surprised that she could manage repairs herself. She seemed to be the sort of woman capable of looking after herself. "Stag sometimes, hare, fowl. Stag was harder to catch and you needed steady aim. Sometimes we couldn't turn our nose up at something, it was better to have meat than to be picky."

"Lucky, maybe. I figure I'll get sick of it eventually, but I'm excited to sit in on a proper snowstorm." There's no abundance of things to be pleased about in Beacon, even her adeptness for spotting silver linings feels stretched a bit thin, but she can at least appreciate weather.

"I don't get the impression there's much game here, but I wouldn't mind picking up a bow?" This is absolutely a guess based on the presence of a cloak.

It's a good guess and he smiles in reply. "Do you know how to use one?" Whether there was game or not didn't really matter. The idea of being able to teach someone again, to help them learn these skills that were going to waste here, it at least allowed him something to do.

"There are other weapons here, but I don't know them as well as a bow or sword."

"Never so much as held one," she admits, and what would ordinarily have been sheepishness is drowned out immediately by earnestness. Swords are a level all their own. No other weapon could hope to hold a candle.

"Can I learn both?"

"If you want," he hadn't really thought about training anyone again. There didn't seem much of a point when he arrived. Most here had some level of skill to protect themselves, but with so much time on his hands, he wouldn't mind helping someone learn. In truth, a part of him missed training.

"You'd have to start with a wood sword. I wouldn't give steel to someone who is still learning to handle it."

"Definitely, absolutely want," she all but rushes to say, as if the opportunity will go up in smoke otherwise. It's a novelty, being from a modern age, and one with some sentimentality backing it, but the practical advantage is just as apparent to her. Magic could do more than plenty, but it couldn't become a crutch. Unlikely there would be much else to do.

His terms are sensible, and her chin dips in a nod. "Of course. Whatever's best, any time that works for you."

He might normally hold back in training if she was younger, but because she was his age and clearly understood hard work, enough so that she could handle the physical labor of training, she would get the same treatment as anyone he trained at Castle Black. "Give me a few days to make something for you. I was never good at carving, but I can make you a training sword."

Something she could keep and work with on her own as well. "We won't be going straight to attacking with swords either. People who have never held a sword don't realize how much weight it is and how it can hurt your arm. Don't be disappointed if we stay on the boring parts for a week."

(no subject)

shadowsran - 2019-11-10 04:04 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

INTRO LOG: SEPTEMBER

III

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)