logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: FOR EVERYTHING A REASON

Entry tags:

EVENT LOG: FOR EVERYTHING A REASON

characters: everyone.
location: the harbor.
date/time: september 6-7.
content: characters and forest spirits send off paper lantern boats in honor of those who have died..
warnings: character death

a somber kind of serenity.

When you arrive at the harbor, there are already boats in the water, and the lighthouse's red beam flares in slow pulses over the lake. The moon's a bright first quarter and the stars are out in force today, all reflected on the glassy surface of the water. It's uncharacteristically calm, this weather, so take advantage.

Rastus is down at the water's edge, tending to a large mound of pebbles that looks not unlike a miniature bonfire from a distance. The stones are all ordinary, having been collected from the beach, except Rastus has enchanted them to glow with a soft, yellow light. The enchantment will only last a week, but that's ample time for this little ceremony to send off those lost over the past two months. Or to send off something less literal, perhaps.

Next to the pile of stones is an array of craft materials—just the basic supplies like paper, markers, glue, and scissors, but more than enough to accommodate everyone in attendance. A handful of forest spirits (some you may recognize from the party!) are standing nearby to assist in paper-folding or boat-crafting if you're out of your depth there. They, along with Rastus, urge you to join in. This memorial is as much about you as it is anyone we've lost, after all. The boats can look like or represent anything you like.

Releasing boats lit with pebbles out onto the water will fill you will a sense of peace. It's a somber kind of serenity, but it's a relief nonetheless, whether you're mourning the loss of a friend or letting go of some other part of yourself. You're welcome to release as many boats as you like, too. It's not like there's a shortage of rocks around here, and even if the craft materials run low, there's plenty of other stuff around town that could be used in a pinch.

The forest spirits are in attendance, as well. Some are helping with the crafting, yes, but most are taking part themselves, building their own little boats to send out over the water. Their crafting involves more of a hands-on approach: Chomping and tearing and crinkling into unique shapes and textures. They stand out from the townsfolks' designs on the beach, but once the boats drift far enough into the surf, it's impossible to tell which vessels belong to which group. Feel free to NPC your own forest spirits for this event and refer to the OOC info post if you have questions about how they might behave.

On the final night of the event, a sound starts up along the treeline, one you haven't heard in some time, perhaps. Crickets. Cicadas. Katydids and beetles and the shrill hum of a mosquito in your ear. It seems insects have returned to Beacon from... wherever they were hiding, and the night air is now vibrant with their music. No more eerie silence back in town, where the sounds of the lake are snuffed out by the trees. It sounds almost like a real forest now.

And it will stay that way after this event ends, too. Maybe you were enjoying the time away from bugs or maybe you were longing for some sign that, yes, this world was alive once, but either way, the insects are here to stay. Well, until winter, at least.

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

You're lucky. Though I'll take bothering over what they did to us last month.

[It was a different type, the tall slender ones - not tall compared to him, of course, but taller than the rest. He recognizes some of the ones here from the party, which is refreshing. It's good to know that despite the earlier violence, some of these creatures are still peaceful.

The stumpy, round little fellow is new to him but it seems to relax under the petting, and Rosinante crouches down in a squat so he can try to look it in the face.]

Give my hat back, please?

[He has yet to master the ocarina, but they do understand common speech, and with a sideways glance at his captor, and then at Rosinante, it rolls its shoulders and lets go with its teeth. Satisfied, Rosinante stands back up as he places the hat on his head, then rests his hands on his hips as he peers down at the two of them. Particularly the human one, since the spirit has closed its eyes while its toothy face now forms itself into a grin.]

Thanks. I'm Rosinante, by the way. You must have come off the most recent ferry, right?

[The Soldier keeps petting, half in approval for the spirit giving up the hat and half just because... it wants to, and the spirit seems to like it. It's almost as soothing as making the boats, actually.]

Soldat.

[If Rosinante speaks Russian, it translates to "soldier", but said Soldier is using it as a name for now. Something to give civilians when they want to call it something.]

And yes. I did. You've been here longer?

[Superficially, the word does sound like 'soldier' but he takes it as coincidence. How is he to know what naming schemes are common in other worlds? They're all so foreign to him - for he's learned he's something of an outlier in that he didn't come from some version of that place called Earth.]

Nice to meet you then, Soldat. Yeah, I got here in the first group after the last reset. You're the third, so... A little over two months, if you're going by the tablet's calendar. Has someone shown you around yet? Filled you in on the situation?

I explored the open spaces and buildings, and I read everything on the tablet. So, not really, but it was good enough.

[Just about everyone the Soldier has talked to for more than a few minutes at a time so far has been new, like it is, so it's had to piece things together mostly on its own. Which doesn't actually bother it much. Anything else requires more talking.]

Read everything, huh?

[Well, to be fair, there isn't a whole lot else to do here unless you have a project or a goal of some kind. There are probably a lot of people who do little more than sit and eat and stare at the bonfire. That's on them; dying is hard and he's not here to command people, not anymore. Least of all civilians. But it's a little disappointing. So the fact that this man has the ambition to at least read up is good to know.]

You probably know it all well enough, then. People have been good at making public anything they've discovered. No secrets here. Is there anything you have questions about?

[It's been like a week. Even with three handlers and a (not!)technician to ask for tasks from, three or four patrols a day, and now half a dozen little boats sent out over the course of the past day or so, there's not a ton to do around here. And the Soldier is a pretty fast reader.]

Plenty of secrets, probably. Just not about what they know about this place.

[The Soldier is not stupid, after all. Not everyone is talking about home. (It doesn't blame them; it's not talking a lot about home, either.) It does have one question.]

What happened to the ones who died here? Are there bodies?

[Yes, all right. Plenty of secrets is true. This time, he hadn't intended on being deceptive; he'd simply worded himself poorly in his attempt to encourage the spirit everyone seems to have adopted. Leave the past behind them, share everything they learn about this place with each other. It serves well.]

Some of the bodies were found. Many weren't. From what I've been told, when you die here, often you come back. Your body vanishes, and you wake back up in the church.

[To which he points, though it's not visible from here, but he knows the direction. Out past the bonfire, inland. Not far.]

Most of the ones who died recently didn't come back. We don't know why some return and others don't. One of the men we lost, Captain Winters, had died and been reborn several times in the years before we even arrived.

[It had been the ones who hadn't come back the Soldier had wanted to know about. It nods. And it guesses,]

Because we are already dead.

[There's something making their bodies be here and it's probably not actually flesh. Not like anything the Soldier has any experience with: for all there are superheroes and shit on its version of Earth, there's not magic. The Soldier decides it's not going to think about it too hard.]

Do the lanterns disappear and reappear, too?

Yes. If your lantern breaks, if the fire goes out, you die. If you die for any other reason, the lantern goes out. They're linked. And if you die, when your body comes back in the church, so does your lantern. There are candles in the church too and they're probably related, but I don't know anyone who's looked into it yet.

[He hasn't. He noticed one burning when he awoke there after his own death on the shoreline, that first month. But he hadn't thought to question anything about it, for churches always have candles, don't they? But it seems noteworthy, given the lack of light and fire every other place.]

[This is all definitely complicated and weird. At least the Soldier is mostly used to not understanding everything going on around it, so it's not like the situation is going to stop it from functioning. It ruffles the spirit's fuzzy head a little, then pushes the little one off its knee so it can pick up the paper again for another boat.]

Thank you.

[Since this fella is being so helpful, the Soldier attempts another question, as it folds paper.]

The spirits attacked before. Were they these spirits?

[The one the Soldier just displaced gets a light pat and a gentle shove towards the crafts, itself. As if the Soldier were nudging a toddler along to play, with its shiny metal arm.]

Or different ones?

[The spirit in question slumps forward, a little disappointed in the lack of pets, then slinks off toward the crafts pile in search of something to chew on.

Rosinante shakes his head.]

Not like those. They were taller, and thin. Long limbs and claws. And some of them had green eyes. They're pretty distinctive, and I'd never seen them in town before. I was actually out at the lighthouse when I saw the first one turn on us. Haven't seen one since that attack, either. If you see something like that, say something on the network so we all know where it is. I'd say kill it, but I'd worry about setting the rest of them off. And the first one we saw out at the lighthouse didn't attack right away, anyway. They might not always be hostile.

Did they speak in music? Like these?

[It pauses in its folding to pull out the ocharina from one of its many pockets. The Soldier's is shaped like a curled up cat. What the Soldier's driving at is, maybe next time they can communicate.

It feels like it's done more killing in its life than it wants to, honestly. Even talking sounds better. (Especially if talking is music.)]

We weren't really in a position to try and communicate when they started trying to butcher us.

[When they started succeeding. The situation went from calm to tense to deadly so quickly, no thanks to Robin's efforts. Those strange, thin spirits are why he's always armed now. He hadn't worried too much about that the first month. He does now.]

[Obviously the Soldier doesn't know enough about this attack. It sits back on its heels and fixes Rosinante with a more focused expression. Not quite meeting his eyes, but still like the Soldier is ready to analyze the shit out of whatever the kid has to tell it.]

How did it happen.

[The worst part is he's going to have to tell this story over and over again, isn't he? It's not like the stories from home of the butchery his brother imposed on innocent islanders, or the pirates he's killed in the line of duty. Nothing like the chaos and horror of his childhood, for all those stories can be left behind and never spoken of again. The forest spirits are something the new folks need to know about. First he clears his throat, though. Bends down to light a cigarette off the light of his lantern, then takes a deep breath of the smoke and regards this Soldat fellow with a frown.]

We had to get the Keeper back on the network. The signal doesn't reach all the way out to the lighthouse, so Winters took me and a few others out there with cables to connect her building up. We had several lookout groups tailing us, too, keeping an eye out through the whole forest in case things turned violent, but we'd hoped the spirits would let us be since we didn't mean them any harm.

It worked until the foghorn went off. Robin said she was trying to tell the spirits to let us go safely. For whatever reason, they took it as a sign to do the opposite. Winters had the back as we were retreating, so they got to him first. Five was the closest to him and he tried to fight them off. They tore Winters apart, and we dragged Five out of there but his injuries were too severe for him to recover from. The rest of us fought them off on the way back to town. We lost a lot of people from the lookout and defense teams. Lotta people dead, a lot more we never even found.

[There's a little something in the back of the Soldier's mind that wants that cigarette. How fucking long has it been since we've had a smoke? Stupid thought. It squashes the thought and focuses on the story.

And then it has questions.]

How did they fight? Did they coordinate their attacks together? Did they all attack at once? Did they use weapons or only themselves?

[It doesn't care about the deaths. (Well, maybe a little bit. A very little bit.) It cares about the tactics and what it can learn from them. The foghorn thing is weird, too.]

It didn't feel coordinated. I don't think they're far above animals in how they think, and they don't have weapons or tools, just teeth and claws. The sort of thing that shouldn't be hard to deal with, but when you're in the trees, the darkness really closes in. Makes it hard to keep up with your enemies, especially when there's lots of them.

[But those sorts of questions that Soldat here is asking are the kind asked by someone used to fighting. So that's good, that's helpful - they need that, after their losses. So many of the people who knew their way around a battlefield were overwhelmed all the same, but nobody was expecting the forest full of creatures to turn on them so suddenly and so violently.]

You must have previous combat experience, huh? Military?

[Hopefully military. Someone who knows how to take orders and work with others. The last thing they need are mercenaries who want to run in alone.]

[But the librarian and postmaster are spirits, and they're intelligent enough. The Soldier doesn't buy that these are like clever animals-- even the ones here on the shore. They're not human (which it likes) but that doesn't mean they're not smart. So it chews on the explanation, looking into the middle distance, wishing it had been there... and nods once after a moment.]

Sniper, assassin, codename Winter Soldier. Property of HYDRA.

[The Soldier isn't particularly secretive about its former handlers. This may or may not be a good thing.]

[Property? Maybe that metal arm means he's some sort of advanced machine, like Daylight. Who knows - the technology of the other worlds is fascinating to him. Sure, there were robots and cyborgs back home too, but they were rare. It's not every day you get to meet someone like that.

So he accepts it, with a hint of a smirk.]

I keep introducing myself as a civilian. Not used to so many other soldiers in plainclothes but I guess none of us are really in active duty anymore, are we? I'm a commander with the Marines.

[Or, was. Until he betrayed them and died. But no big deal, right?]

If you figure out a way to snipe in all this darkness, I'll be awfully impressed. It's a shame the forest spirits don't carry lights like we do.

I don't even have a fucking rifle.

[It comes out as a grumble. The Soldier misses its rifles. Its scopes. Even with the limited light, there are other ways to make a shot.]

But I am definitely not a civilian.

[It's not even a person. Technically.]

Never worked with the Marines.

[There's a question in the statement. Tell it about the experience, Rosinante?]

There was someone here from another world called Earth - one of the people who went missing, actually. The Marines in his world were less marine than mine. I'm used to doing a lot more sailing. Then again, my world's mostly water and there are a lot of pirates to keep in check.

[He mentions Earth specifically, on the chance the guy before him might be from there too. It seems the majority here are. It's actually kind of rare to run into those like him, from some other world. Earth must be one busy place.]

Anyway, if you want a rifle, ask Rastus. I had a pistol come in for me on the ferry to replace the one I used to have back home, since it didn't come with me. He wasn't happy about getting me one, but even he knows we have to defend ourselves here.

[Not Earth. Huh. That explains why the Soldier didn't recognize the language. (There's a little tiny part of the Soldier in the back of its mind that is repeating "holy fuck holy cow an alien holy fuck holy cow he's an alien" over and over again. The Soldier ignores it.)]

The navy are the ones who sail on Earth. The marines are supposed to be a more versatile branch.

[Which ought to clue Rosinante in that the Soldier is also from Earth, without it having to say so directly.]

Rastus gets us things?

[That's useful to know. It's not sure a bird-man would know much about sniper rifles, and the Soldier isn't really used to asking for things... maybe it can practice a little first. With the bird-man. (Somehow that stupid little part in the back of its brain had not assigned the word "alien" to the bird-man, and thus had not gotten quite as excited about him. Weird.)]

How does Rastus get them?

[Clue him in it does, and he nods. That sounds like what Gene had described. Probably there's no distinction in his world because the options that don't involve sailing are pretty limited. The Marines are a navy, and an army without some aquatic element would be awfully stuck.]

Wish I knew. They come on the ferry when new people arrive, which means he knows how to communicate with whoever drives the boat and can order supplies, but nobody's managed to get a straight answer from him on the subject as far as I know.

No one drives the boat. We looked. There aren't any guards on the controls, either, or any crew.

[Unless, of course, there's another set of controls below, which the Soldier is starting to wonder about. And of course the option that would be the most helpful:]

It may be on an automated course. But that means there must be someone elsewhere who loads it.

Right. And what Rastus and the others who've been here a while claim is that the ferry comes from someplace outside this world, just like we do ourselves. I want to know how Rastus can communicate with people in a place like that.

[Since then, who knows what doors that would open up. The ability to talk to other worlds? Could he send messages back home? Could they get help?]

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