[ѧׄѵٜҒեҡٜהػһ] - WEEҎЯҝLY BUЀLωؗҹTIN - OPױҊ

[inthenightmods]

WEEKLY BULLETIN

[This week, the bulletin opens with a video. It's been shot from a webcam that seems to be perched atop a computer screen, and in front of the screen is Robin, biting her lip as she types frantically. If she meant to start recording herself, she doesn't show it. A timestamp in the corner reads 17 NOV 03:02.

The room behind her is cozy, resembling the control deck of a battleship as redecorated by a teenage girl. That's essentially what it is, after all. The red beam of the lighthouse flares occasionally at the top of the screen.

Robin's harried typing continues for a few moments, uninterrupted, until a shadow slinks up from the staircase behind her. One by one, strings of fairy lights flicker out, the room going dark save for the glow of the screen. Robin finally notices just before the last of the lights die, her hands freezing on the keyboard, but she doesn't dare turn around, not yet.

This video comes with sound, and everyone's device's volume will crank to max volume to really emphasize Robin's shaky breaths as she listens, head tilting to glance over her shoulder at the darkness. The image flickers, crackling with static and distortion, until—]

Kë̥̟̝͇ͦ̈́̋— ee͍͔̺͔̖̕p— er͖̥͓͔̼̤͍—

[Robin whips around, her chair toppling over as she stands, but the video crackles again, and she's flung back against the desk. The computer screen crashes to the floor, taking the camera with it, and the feed stays focused on the floor for a long, long time. Eventually, it fades into static.

When it clicks back on again, the camera has been cocked up just enough to pull the room into view again. The timestamp in the corner reads 28 NOV 14:26.

Robin is slumped against the wall, filthy with blood and sweat, eyes glassy as she stares up at the forest spirit looming over her. The spirit cranes their head toward the camera, their eyes flashing green, and they wave to the viewers in a clumsy, jerking motion. Then, they drop something heavy and metallic in front of Robin, and she jumps at the sudden noise. It's a lantern, long broken and in pieces.

The forest spirit tips forward at the waist, bending down to press their face against Robin's as she whimpers and tries to keep still. They negotiate their forehead against hers, their green eyes flashing until she musters the courage to look up, and then they trill.

There's a scream, and the feed again cuts to static.]

anno҂ؼҘϷments

• I don't kԻӟϔυ׹ what happen؇d. I'ӻԛ sorry. I think tϒйԷy're gone nэӽّw.


• I can't delete thώӾҊ video. I've tried, but they fucked up my computer aՓ׳սϗׅаҚ؞םӆѺs forcing me to post the video file with פӡӆe bulleֺЛԬn. A lot of stuкϗϊԥןټ֫ԓՙֳ٤Ёs broken. I'll nԬгd to fix it.


• ThԨЌґ ЬՉave me a lanшбҿٻӇٷա. I don't know whose מ֙طАϫ is. I need time to fiףУӊחѶЇϑӐٰЉՁׁٓӪ out.


• Use this bҪӸϲetin to regroup and share informatЫׇղԭ with each Ծ֔ther. ҬѮere's no point in keԖ֞я֐ secrets.


• I'֑ҩё OK. Thөy ҁ֥Ϙٶ؜ЭגӿӧױϐѲӢϥ.

Ԇ٣؏،ӂssifieds

• ѤךٓвҚխԴ؃־Ӕщ׺ЅաҺѐϺӴϣҗԲՃԴѡ؀׋ҜӚԎ؋ӫӿоВ׵Ϝ؎ՇӂىҺЄЪؽՁԫԵӏ٢ӼϘլ֏ҟӼЁׇٰ֫ՄτӅ֪ؑФҭҶؚزӹ؝Сֳ֜ԦؐӫգٶϚѾбϏצغْװ֩ئіϬ؇ϽϚυկؤӥіؓГՁؿأأԽԼ؀ҡٷաϤֽӋԟԂїӦѰבӬѦӰիҷϑ֟ӗכֽС֐нѻّׄҳخرՓԨ؄ٖҤϚϰн֙؃Щҍ՝Ծ֔ٶԫױձҭкؓљӟώӍҭ׻صװٳزؙӱٮՎҊҬջйѫ֊ײؒυظԦְէٯ׾Ӫմ؝ҬѮ٤֔նѫټՆρ֮كס٧ςГӷֆҪץԁԊպՉϑϣז؁ѻӭ֎БӒٰт؏Ԋ٩ҪӸϲֈҾԁӂѤЂԳך֧ϮէӵءЫׇղԭљֶбҏ٬Ұ֝ՍשזԒӈبد؂Ѝ׃Ϩ׸ІҖЄשѺϺϭы҆ҠԇϘӢѱхԶϻԳضҩДֹԳէ֝ђҮӱӬќѬϿқғ׽ϱХϟѥԍظмӕֿӃѥչټփֹҎЯҝץѭѢ׈ϤϩԖ֞я֐خ׳Іيӆ֞ԀՁֿόӚ٦ԎӔ׭үՒ֕ӭل҈ёت֩қҒׯձмӉϘцӕϓ؃׋׸،ٶϯם֠Ϟϡў׋ϡѺժϽ׬сϢӡսѶ֪њҺӝٰԃϨ׫ٗإϢ֥ҍ؟ԲҧϜٲҎЖ؟ӒҗԹЊӫԗӰֹكϾ֎յِרϦϞׂԢЁ؟ӴРיسմһϡϺӘӃҎЀҎӑЪϲϨը֞צЊ՝խՅ՗҅тغќԆתςءҶّֈ׍ϣԃ֑ٗВҗԺٯ״ؤԭюҧؗـׇ٘ռ؁րתսؿҌӜ֋נՌӟӔز֬Ը٠ЍИ֑Ѡ١ІآԒتҪ԰٫ҩمѾѳ؇ٖ׳ӑϴҾرҭА֪ӗ՘ү֩ԮЍҁҎыҁԛٶдԁѥՎмҷ؆ӖٸҲϦԣَϗԯѤآԤϕ׮֊ؿг؆ϬҢڀ׊ԽϬў׮ύϭӣч؈ՒԖצԨבЂ٦՘׺הԿҊтջϥחїپԪֱѱ׋յҽҮٞӀяЮёֳ֒٧ӴҵύԗԯϴԮ٧Հϴբր٥؋ӧ՛קש؋


• ؋ԟϮԌض٤Ҿ֡֟ԦՊיԕИҴрٮֺՄϳ׃סՅа׏֤ԝװٽعєҠфպيӒ֞ԵՋُ֩ҧԵِѿףԸУҿ׿הӾӈӑגؕٙӫնП՚ٛ٤ة׫гһ׬ѳҌСϦ֍شԱԅѲح؎ѷԨٲدֶؕдЅ֞ٞҠزыјԔҠوԜѺ֛ՄҸתиЪϧӉյгѲԧ֒ڀՂҸ׫ЍӳДظѢϬҶԖԞԨҠٗوضՐЂЯҲϷԵҴҖԻ׀ԑҬФ؝҅ҏ؋ґԔصфѬծշ֪֪҅ؔپњҼЙփҩױҊѺρωؗҹ،ٝ׷сКӧؖբϙֲٖٞҁϋؓҧёׅԏ֙ػԂԩԳϣِؤӫ֬тϚ׻Єׁؼ׉ӉҹׁսٜѲاԕӱ֮ҘֽҸѠҦѫפӡիمГמՐٱЃ҃եӵыгԘӽ׬ҶϹЎֈׯչϑـּ؄٫մՆ֌ӷؕ׭а԰єثزӬҜϽٺؒϗТѳѤРы֖ؽӶϞѦϻӺոאӕҡٜהػһӹפԷЊӼԯչժӌԋЉٜϷҬپضһלЁӂѮѿѲҲؾѽԤИԠЎеַٛҹشҲ֬ӱ؊ҒծҪцְՅײӰوҕ؝؛ӍدԎԵج֙ԯҀ׹Ըحгҳ׆


• Н؉ؙЀٴճֹ׃Ϝتѫيָ׃ֲَѕ֖رպҀԳՖϜϷ՞ؔ֎֞յЈًӟҪيמԃѿ֡Ս٘׋ϕў؈֬ѧׄѵٜҒեЀЊϓπюֈպմӴքدѧֺϹӠՊՔٔҫ׶Ўبؓбئ׮؂ן


• Ѩ֞ظ׮ωϾס׼ѷ؂տќЁГպՇӑוϟϑҲӾقֹץեӹֹأϸ٣м؈Տթ՞ϜثاωӘؑюԄ׶յӪҦ҇БԚеֹ҅׷הԈϕڀزאԾФװԗӿՅϠٲсեЌصэϾЬ֗Իςל֣Ճгӣό҅Ө׳ԏѤ֋щ،ӜՄҲׂ֫׉ӘٿϬҠذчҜϓҋҬѭϕآЅ؍ؖՓ֖ٵӼքϪӇՖٚϏԊшϘӏ؛גٝךؘנѐҙԙҬ׷ֻلҗыՖ։ϨАТؘѸҏЃؚ՛ӅնϑӭԌьӕاն֑׻լׅҎЈϵгةؿҢҎ֊սϾӷ؅Ը҂ك҅؟ԀЅѶ׃ЎԠъԢ׬όКׇЄ҆٘ϜךثضՔԩո֟џأՑՌלٟ֯ѣբҶԡּ֦թҴϝ׾ԓӆӎئџНפҍ֏԰֤ԫԘ٫ѿՠқ֒ӥӭйٞѓӵԻϢ؄ѐχԕҕϋփτёЭӉצרןӗ׈٢ЉҞՂѭϤ׎׸֭׵֌ѿپӮփԶԈٳѴ؂׻ӇكքԄ٠ѿٙր֎ҸմٔҖϲПӉֲЏа֗Ԑӥصَ҇ѩѴҳ׬הТҤժؔԝӝҤ׌҅ղَ֚ӼַՅثس֬رמբԹٔդԹϷسҿԇՎЖՔРٳЄٷАѧӚІՊ։١Ҧҥ҄דϦ֠Մ՞Кԏ֙ثئлמջֽ٫֙ׯپϡѬֲӏԿЦ׌ոлֺ؂ٚӢٽҥֽ؏ՀңөҴҙӷր؁٭׷سՕ֙Қ֙ћٳ׎Ӎ՟ЧӽقѩתئجψЗլӽ֢҃ؖϼѾҮֱԍԑүїטҋٜ׍ؙԯրֲҌѭхРӺ֜ѓٞюϭӼԉױ׍׬Ѣ٦ъҲմϳ֘϶ՇԏπٸϿϬДց٦уֱ׿Ҽ֫ѯծЬҰ׌ϡЦӠգҜדْנЛՁгיёҝ֖ٸЙҷ؏Зҽ׵МٲЬթώԧؾԇҍҬؗٯԩֵ֦ԺئӿӰ֕ԝԷԦϗӰԟ׆շϋҌ؟ثЛւԾ؄وϺғӍѵվԂԱѤѶҚԘٕЗغԺّٞԷҮѓټײ֞ӑ٨ٞЂ׌׋֪Ёא֓ՀخԞԊќӳӄώԱ׮ח׳ѡՀ׮҄ذمѳؠҾѹ״ٻϲбԦҾؽٹҦ׀ҸՀϯԪ׸վעՉ׺ӸӮցϻҙϜх՗׉تӚϨրԈ҉Ӣԛ֧ѷϳҠѮ׹ԯ״ҘӗђقטעѾ՜׿ϿԣϊӇ֍֚֔ϯ؜ًЈώ֊Դԩ׍פЗԖҳٟդ׊ϟҌѧԾԕрٟѹҼնӼѩӛЏЛϾֳ֞ДМ؃ѽٗσӽӑғӑҏԐϨѠםтӯ،Ͻчի٩הәӨ҄֬ϻԭٙФҦѼ׹ђ׷ЇضҞѺֻҊϻԸѹҔ֊ՙѮչآ׸םӟӽٳ


• If yԭ׭ҹրгϛЍֺԹС to subҼظԘt an advertisement, חոϙӣҞՐ҇ՑԧғτӸВѫ϶se drop them bׂѤ׊؛טҗӐѝըϠӚ׉كՎϛӫ٫ٚ؄ոճحПֹЃРؾϔӽ־Ӎice.

oٌՎطد҆ёװғԟ٢Ӷֶَճؑաӏries

• Jչآ׸ם Gordon


• Hermione Gӟӽٳnger


• GriҊϻz Visser


• VaniҔ֊ՙas


• Bucky BѺֻԸѹs


• DaҰ׌ϡina Clairӭ


• Nyx UlrФ؝҅


• XayЁh


• There miѧӚt be more. WІՊ։١Ҧe still ԇՎЖՔРٳЄٷАѧӚІՊ։١ bodies.

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

Comments

[necromantiae]

I can use magic. Protective wards, that sort of thing.

( if needed. )

And I can teleport though it doesn't work as well as it should in this place.

[webshoots]

I don't think much of anything works as it should in this place. [ there's a pause; he's still not sure about letting the proverbial cat out of the bag and announcing that hey, he's got a weird spider-theme going on. ] I don't want to sound like I want to exclude anyone, but the more people that go, the more attention we risk, so the questions are who, then how, right? Rushing in blind's just going to add more people to the list next week.

[necromantiae]

Stealth mission, then.

( or something close to it. )

It would have to be someone that can get in, get her, and get out and still be able to defend themselves.

[webshoots]

I'm all for it, but the one snag with that is the fact that the lighthouse is her lantern. I don't know how far we can take her from it. [ which means it's more: ] Get in, defend themselves, defend her. Or it.

—Were you awake or asleep, by the way?

[necromantiae]

Awake.

( and dealing with those nasty creatures. )

Okay, so we don't want to risk her getting hurt. If we can clear the lighthouse, I can ward it at least for a little while. Until we think of something better.

[webshoots]

I'm going to say 'great' to that, but just so you know, I do mean the opposite, but as I was asleep: is there anything new we need to know about the spirits?

I don't — I'm not going to assume any of this is malicious, for the record. The spirits have a limited ability to communicate with us, right? Just so we're clear, it's a case of protecting Robin, making sure she's okay, and—. [ HNNNNNGH. ] We'll figure the rest of it out when we get to it.

[ PAUSE. ] I don't have magic, but I'm, uh, adaptable.

[necromantiae]

They are...tenacious. I managed to keep them off me for the most part but they're smarter than I would have taken gross looking creatures for. And they're, you know, willing to do what it takes.

( to protect themselves from others. )

How adaptable?

[webshoots]

I mean, there's definitely room for a comment about having the sort of face only a mother could love, but there's also room for being gracious and admitting that not everyone gets to have beauty and brains. Ordinarily, I'd say one out of two's not bad going, but this way round's probably not as in our favour as it could be.

[ of course, outside of the joint questions of 'is robin actually okay?' and 'what just (quote-unquote) happened to her?', there's the question of why. robin was supposed to have a degree of sway over the spirits, for whatever reason, for better or worse, so the question is: what changed? ]

—Adaptable enough to have not died after being here for half a year.

[necromantiae]

You and me both.

( on the not dying thing. weren't they the lucky ones? )

Guess we're doing something right? And if I have to end my streak here, so be it.

[webshoots]

[ and if riku's right, maybe they'll learn something from dying and coming back, eyyyy. ]

Someone else rushing recklessly into danger isn't something I can really get behind, but I do get the sentiment. So in the least dismissive way possible: at least we know it's unlikely to stick if the worst happens.

[ he does pause, then— ] You remember what happened the last time we went to the lighthouse, right?

[necromantiae]

I remember.

( but did that mean they shouldn't try again? give up all together? )

It's not without risk, I'll admit. But after seeing that, I can't just sit here and pretend it'll all be okay.

[webshoots]

Right. So the other thing we've got to figure out is: how do we protect the town? It's just been attacked and we're on the backfoot.

[necromantiae]

My first instinct is to try and put everyone in one place and defend that place heavily but I have a feeling some people aren't going to want to do that.

( for one reason or another. )

[webshoots]

But some people will.

Let me check in with Quentin — apparently he was holed up in the armory, I want to know how the camouflage held up against the spirits.

[necromantiae]

Let me know what he says. Quentin's a good guy, I'll trust whatever he says.

( don't blush if you see this, quentin. )

[Not here!]

[moderatelymaladjusted]

[He did see it. He also read it over and over a few times, just to commit it to memory, because this kind of thing doesn't happen to him a whole lot. Not even with people he's combined magic with.]