methuselah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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singillatim2024-05-09 09:24 pm
singmod) wrote in singillatim2024-05-09 09:24 pm
Entry tags:
- *event,
- bigby wolf: jelle,
- chloe frazer: tess,
- claudia: bobby,
- connor wolf: shade,
- cornelius hickey: kates,
- damian wayne: cass,
- dream of the endless: huali,
- eddie munson: hannah,
- edward little: jhey,
- francis crozier: gels,
- fraser: lorna,
- james t. kirk (au): ricks,
- john irving: gabbie,
- kate marsh: cheryl,
- kieren walker: cheryl,
- konstantin veshnyakov: jhey,
- lalo salamanca: amber,
- lanfear: carly,
- levi ackerman: dem,
- levi: cirape,
- louis de pointe du lac: tea,
- randvi: tess,
- raylan givens: arma,
- sam carpenter: lia,
- snow white: carly,
- svetlana nazarova: kota,
- the doctor: kris,
- tim drake: fox,
- wynonna earp: lorna,
- zoey westen: bri
no man is an island
MAY 2024 EVENT
PROMPT ONE — THE ENDS JUSTIFY THE MEANS: Young Bill asks the Interlopers for help in dealing with a group of protestors that have been harassing him for months — by stealing their hidden caches and starving/forcing them out of the Lakeside area.
PROMPT TWO — SACRIFICIAL OFFERINGS: It turns out that sometimes folktales are true after all, and a mysterious creature lives within the Lake of Lakeside — and it demands payment for use of its Lake.
PROMPT THREE — GLIMMERFOG: A strange new weather phenomenon causes a new illness in Interlopers.
THE ENDS JUSTIFY THE MEANS
WHEN: Mid-May — onwards.
WHERE: Lakeside area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: themes of survival; themes of morality; themes of scavenging; instances of animal mutilation; instances of corpse mutilation/desecration; themes of folk horror;
Methuselah, having visited Lakeside, passes on the message in mid-May that Young Bill is looking for assistance from the Interlopers and asks for anyone who would be kind enough to donate their time to visit him. Some may already know how to Young Bill’s cabin, but Methuselah will draw a quick map for those unfamiliar to find the way.
After traversing through the Milton Mine — which was cleared by Interlopers back in March — and using the hand-operated crank to use the lift to reach the Lakeside entrance, Interlopers will simply need to follow the train track down through the mountains for a few hours before crossing the railway bridge over the ravine and into Lakeside. Coming off the tracks and following a trail northwards will eventually lead to a small cabin and outbuilding within a clearing: this is the home of Young Bill.
… and it seems the man himself is no less wary when he steps out onto his porch, his rifle in hands raised towards the newcomers that make their way into their clearing. Mentioning that Methuselah sent you will quickly earn that rifle being lowered though, and he will nod his head indoors.
“C’mon, I’ll get some coffee on. You look like you could do with the warm up.”
Young Bill will do just that, encouraging Interlopers to sit and warm themselves by the log burner within his home — offering mugs of coffee. He’s not alone in the cabin, either. There’s also Scout, an Alaskan Malamute, who… appears to be nesting, sleeping on piles of blankets and pillows. Once everyone’s a little warmer, he will take a seat. Onto business, then.
“Alright, straight up— what I’m suggesting here isn’t gonna be all that pleasant when you look at the big picture. If you want out, that’s fine. I’m not gonna judge.”
He means that. He understands that this going to be less than savoury, and folks are gonna have their principles and their morals. People are free to walk away from his proposal, but regardless of their participation: this is happening.
“Some of you already know about this, but I’ll start from the beginning for those who don’t. There’s this group of folks who call themselves the ‘Forest Talkers’. Rocked up here a couple of years back to protest against some of the big productions going on here in Lakeside, like the resort expansion.” he shrugs. “Few of them are locals, but most of them are from the Mainland. They weren’t so bad, but they were a pain in the ass for the companies working here. Messing with machinery, protests, vandalism. That sort of thing. I’d see them around but— they never used to bother me at all. We kept out of another’s way until everything started going south several months back.
But now? Those eco-fucks have done nothing but cause trouble for months. They break my traps, they’ve stolen from me. They tried to trash my home. They’ve even tried to attack me while I’ve been out. Pretty sure they’re the ones behind some of the burnt-out and trashed lodges. …I heard some of you guys got shot at, too.”
There’s a short pause, and Young Bill’s face grows dark, a little disturbed. Those who have been in the Northern Territories longer will note that something has been bothering Young Bill for the last couple of months or so. He’s been reluctant to mention it, but the man looks exhausted.
“They’ve done… odd shit, too. Like something out of an old horror movie. It’s like they’ve gone nuts, or something.”
If pressed, he will share the more… grisly details. Killed and mutilated wildlife, often arranged in frightening manners. He’s even found the… bodies of people: Forest Talkers themselves from what he can gather, some natives to the Northern Territories, some workers from the resort and hydrodam. The bodies are just as mutilated, skin torn from limbs, eyes removed. At some point, he has to stop. He doesn’t want to go on.
“I’ve tried reasoning with them, I’ve tried threatening them. They don’t wanna listen. I’m tired of being watched and hounded in my own home.” he explains. He seems exhausted by the whole thing. “So I guess the only thing I can think to do is to try and starve them out. I’m not here to attack anyone, but I guess maybe if they don’t have much left then they’ll finally give up and just leave. I bet if they didn’t have the foothold they have in this place, they wouldn’t be half as brave as they are.”
Ah, yes. The less-than-savoury part of all of this. Stealing from others, starving them out. Perhaps it’s not the worst thing to do to another here, but cutting off lifelines might be… morally questionable.
“They have caches, all over Lakeside. Food, supplies, stuff like that. I’ve found notes.”
He gets up to walk towards his desk and pulls out a few pieces of paper. Each of them is marked with either a stamp or some hand-drawn symbol: a circle with a simple line of pine trees inside of it, topped with the shadow of a face. They’re handwritten notes, detailing cryptic clues about where caches are hidden all over the area. Young Bill will hand them out to Interlopers to have a look.
“I have a rough idea of where they are, but I need help in finding them. It’s hard enough with the fog, and now Scout’s expecting.” There’s an unamused grumble at that last part, but he continues. “You can keep what’s in them, I just want them gone.”
Some may choose to back out of this, and Young Bill is true to his word. He isn’t here to shame or judge anyone for not choosing to get in on this. But for those who do, the journey begins. Interlopers can go out into Lakeside and begin the grim scavenger hunt. Young Bill will even supply Interlopers with maps of the Lakeside area with vague ideas of where he believes the notes may be talking about in terms of these caches. For those who disbelieve Young Bill’s claims, they too will soon find their own evidence: the very same things the man had spoken of scattered around the area.
It’s disturbing. Something is… very wrong with these people. But there seems to be no trace of the actual people themselves. Interlopers may get the sense of being watched, perhaps a sound from the woods, or something of the like — but nothing more than that. Heading to the Old Hunting Lodge and getting too close will bring on gunfire from the Forest Talkers.
Caches, when found, may be rock cairns hidden against rockier areas in Lakeside. Some might be metal containers half-hidden or even buried in the snow. They will mostly contain goods such as dried food or even MRE’s. Others will contain things like basic medical supplies such as bandages, disinfectants, painkillers, or antibiotics. Others may contain flares or ammunition. Interlopers are free to claim the items as their own — just as Young Bill said.
Surely this will get rid of them, and force them to leave the area. Right?
SACRIFICIAL OFFERINGS
WHEN: The month of May, onwards.
WHERE: Lakeside.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural creatures; serpentine creature; themes of sacrifice; potential character death/maiming; potential drownings.
While the lake of Lakeside appears to have been well known for being used all year, with fishing and watersports available during the summer, the harsh weather that has plagued the Northern Territories now means that the lake has now (possibly) become permanently frozen solid. In some respects, this is good news: allowing Interlopers to cross the terrain more easily to reach the cabins and not resorting to the long way around through the woods. It also means that there is ample opportunity for ice fishing, and it’s possible to build structures on the ice to stay warm.
But something else lurks beneath the thick ice, and it has noticed you upon its frozen waters.
In the Camp Office, a small display hangs on the wall about a monster from folklore native to the lake. It is said that the beast was the guardian of the lake and would demand sacrifice from those who wished to use its waters or otherwise drag them down to a watery grave. The whole thing seems like just some “fun” interest-grabber to visitors and those vacationing on the lake, even with cartoon drawings of a gigantic snake-like monster smiling goofily.
Or is it?
To the unsuspecting Interloper who ventures out onto the lake, whether to fish upon it or simply cross it, it appears, bursting through the ice: a huge serpentine creature with dark-green skin dotted with ridges along its back and dragon-like head — thick-bodied and incredibly fast as it rears up and opens its mouth — roaring at you with a wide, fanged mouth.
And then, it waits. And suddenly you wonder if maybe that cheesy display in the Camp Office might have had a point after all.
The creature demands a sacrifice for the use of its lake. Perhaps you have food or some freshly caught game to offer it. Or some small token you own that you can give to it: a tool, a cherished item. Maybe even the shirt off your own back, or the very blood running through your veins. You must give something.
Lay it upon the ice before it, and the beast will take it, gently collecting it between its teeth and returning to the depths below. Refuse to give anything, and the beast will roar and launch into an attack — pulling itself fully out of the lake.
It moves with speed, and will try to devour you, or wrap its body around you to squeeze the life out of you, or simply pull you down under the water. There will be no winning against this creature, no way of harming it and no way of fighting back. You may have a chance of running away, getting off the lake, but it will remember you, and will try to come for you once more if you ever step foot on the ice again.
The choice is yours, Interloper. What will you sacrifice?
GLIMMERFOG
WHEN: The month of May, onwards into early June.
WHERE: Milton area; Lakeside area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural weather; themes of illness; insomnia and sleep deprivation symptoms; altered-mental states; hallucinations; nosebleeds/blood; possible character death.
Interlopers have come to understand that strange meteorological occurrences are not uncommon within the Northern Territories, especially given the Aurora. Auroras can often last for days, as one long and seemingly endless kind of terrible, noisy bright night which affects both electronics and nature alike. Or there's the toxic fog; times where the sky goes green and the moon and stars disappear; monster blizzards… strange is the new norm.
The fog that began in April doesn’t seem to be letting up any time soon. Endless days where the fog is too thick to travel in. Fortunately, there are no further bouts of the green, toxic fog that plagued the Northern Territories — the fog that remains is just the usual freezing cold and clinging damp that's been exhausting Interlopers.
Until there’s something else that starts to happen with the fog.
At first, it appears to be no different than the usual fog rolling in: cold, wet, and biting. It clings to those who are caught out in it, and it’s utterly miserable. However, those paying attention will note that the clouds of fog will occasionally... glimmer.
It’s as if there’s a current of electricity running through it, if one watches carefully. Mini lightning bolts shooting through and upwards in curious patterns. Flicks and pops that make the tiny hairs on one’s arms and neck stand up — almost like static. It won’t shock those caught within it, but it might be a little difficult to look at at times — as if someone were staring at a light that’s far too bright.
It’s oddly pretty, and seems particularly harmless, but there’s something far more sinister about this new, strange phenomena — or... Glimmerfog, as Interlopers will come to call it.
The first sign that something is amiss is the insomnia. In truth, sleep is often hard to come by in the Northern Territories, so it might be something that is easily brushed off as quite usual in terms of day to day life. However, Interlopers will realise they won’t be able to sleep at all, and will find themselves lying awake for the entirety of the night. Soon enough, more things creep up with the insomnia, the usual signs of sleep deprivation: dizzy spells, unsteadiness on one’s feet, poor hand-eye coordination, difficulty in concentration or poor short-term memory, even mood swings or changes to behaviour are likely.
Eventually, the symptoms begin to grow more sinister: nosebleeds are common, aches and pains... and then the fever sets in. Interlopers will become weak, lethargic, and even then they still cannot sleep through their illness. With it, comes hallucinations: sounds or sights, and then quickly developing into a full on delirium. Dreams and reality blend into one. An Interloper’s dreams and nightmares bleed into the waking world. They will find themselves experiencing their dreams despite being wide awake.
It seems like there is very little to be done in trying to fight the illness. Trying to tackle the fever and getting the afflicted Interloper some kind of sleep is the main concern, both of which may eventually kill the Interloper if enough is not done in time. Natural sleep-aids like herbal teas, or medications still available in the world may be able to get the Interloper to sleep for short amounts of time. Keeping the Interloper inside and away from the Glimmerfog will also help immensely, as will spending time in complete darkness or even underground or within caves/mining systems.
Breaking the fever will signal the peak and decline of the illness, and with enough care the Interloper will slowly begin to recover.
FAQs
1. Players are free to come up with their own ideas of cache locations within Lakeside. It might be particular points of interest, a particular kind of tree, within isolated cabins in the woods.
2. Please be reasonable of finds in the caches. These supply amounts won't be a huge amount — think small but many caches.
3. It is possible to come across the grisly finds in Lakeside without meeting up with Young Bill first.
4. Caches would tend to stick to similar themes, ie. food cache, medicine cache, etc.
1. It is not possible to communicate with the beast, but it does seem to understand Interlopers. It will have no desire to communicate of befriend any one, though.
2. The beast will be a permanent fixture of the Lake.
3. Interlopers who initially refuse to give the beast anything can try again at a later date. They will have to offer their offering quickly, showing outward remorse for their initial disrespect towards the beast.
4. Locals refer to the Lakeside Beast as 'Nor'pogo.'
1. "Glimmerfog Disease" will run it's full course in roughly ten to fourteen days, with symptoms peaking typically around day seven to nine. Once the fever breaks, Interlopers will require a few days to fully recover.
2. Characters are welcome to kill of NPCs with this prompt, as Interlopers who don't make it through the illness — or to be used to study the sickness. Please let the mods know if you plan to kill an NPC for record keeping purposes!
no subject
Little blinks, slightly bewildered. Make the best of it... He certainly can't claim that he's been doing such a thing, not even with his willingly persistent resilience ever since his arrival to this place. Resuming patrol, his duties, serving no captain any longer but he's continued to serve the town itself, its people...
...But none of it is truly "making the best of it." He does these things because they're all he knows to do. Because they're all that he has left, of himself.
He takes a few long moments to respond, allowing the other man's words to sink in, before he's bowing his head slightly, looking down at his cup. He feels an odd sort of shame. ]
There is nothing before me but... punishment. I deserve to be in this place, Mr. March. I will seek no redemption, no forgiveness. What I've done.... [ He sighs, soft and aching. ] ....It can never be undone.
no subject
What're you talkin' about?
no subject
He sighs, not making contact with the other man's eyes. He'd just agreed to try and rely on him as a companion, a confidant — but it's hard. It's so hard. ]
I am responsible for... many of the horrors to befall several of the men here in this place, from my world. I am the reason most of them suffered more than they already had. Truthfully, it is a wonder they can look at me at all.
[ Self-loathing knits his brow, hardens his eyes. ]
If a man is responsible for the suffering of others, should he not suffer in return?
no subject
Giving the other platitudes seems kind of stupid. It's weighing on him in a way that March figures is real, whether or not what he's done was actually the true reason they all suffered even more, like the other thinks. He suspects not. It was hubris, mainly, if what Goodsir told him is anything to go by. But Ned hammers it all home - he didn't start it. He made it worse. And yeah, March can relate to that. Not on that level, but enough that the other's question sucks the air out his lungs for a second. ]
You think being here isn't suffering enough?
[ There's an alarming lack of judgement in his voice. A cool, neutral tone as he waits for an answer. ]
no subject
It's the other's tone that helps encourage him to keep going with these discomforting, honest thoughts — not upset with or disappointed in or challenging him, just... asking. Conversational, even when the conversation is like this. Again, Edward thinks that for as intimidating he can be, Mr. March is easy to speak with, in the same ways that Miss Earp is. ]
There is... food here. Though it may be scant, there are ways to procure more. Animals, fish. And there is shelter. I even have a home. A warm bed.
[ Strange though it may seem, this place is a step up from where his men were lost. ]
I deserve to ache constantly with hunger, and to never feel the comforts of a bed. To succumb to the poison inside of me, as my men succumbed. [ He closes his eyes for a moment, heart heavy, stomach aching with the weight of so many ghosts. ]
I was meant to lead them. To protect them. And I... I was not enough.
no subject
[ It's to himself, of course--he winces at it all, because of the subject matter, sure, but March is about 90% sure the brief pause was because Ned was trying to work up the courage to say it, not because he hadn't thought about it before. It sounds an awful lot like it's all he's been thinking about. ]
You ever ask your friends if they think you deserve it?
no subject
Little hangs his head more (it might distinctly give the impression of a wounded dog.) 'Friends' — a word he knows can't capture his relationship with these men.
Is March friends with Thomas Jopson, he wonders? Harry Goodsir? Captain Crozier himself? What would he think of Edward, if he knew what he'd done to them? ]
I have not. Not so explicitly. [ He shakes his head softly. ] I try simply to keep watch over them now, where I failed to do before, but... I do not want to burden them too much with my presence.
I wish I could be a better man, but... the truth is, I likely do not even deserve your hospitality, Mr. March. [ He lifts his teacup in gesture. He doesn't deserve this tea... or to be "buds"... ]
no subject
You should probably talk to them. Maybe they do hate your guts. Maybe they forgive you. Either way, you'll get some closure.
[ Jesus. This is a real low point for Little, it's true -- Holland March is fishing out advice. He wrinkles his nose. ]
You tell Wynonna any of this?
no subject
a) telling him to drop the title (this... is very difficult for him to do... It seems so impolite to refer to him this way!)
b) suggesting he talk to those other men (him?? An especially repressed Victorian??? Talk About It??)
c) bringing up Wynonna about this
He fidgets uncomfortably, looking nauseated. (Then again, Edward always kind of looks like that, so it might be hard to tell the difference.) ]
I... have not discussed it with her, no. I could not burden her with it. [ And there's something else to it — a deep shame. A fear to have her look at him a certain way, perhaps. But then... it may no longer matter, anyway. She loathes him, clearly, but it may have always been a matter of time. He ruins everything. ]
But after what transpired between us, I am certain she will not want to hear anything of me again.
no subject
[ March's sigh is more than a little huffy, and he can't help but roll his eyes a little before he scrunches his nose and pinches it with his thumb and forefinger. He's not sure how Little keeps moving further and further into himself while simultaneously opening up. Is this just the whole Victorian thing, or is that Little himself? It's fascinating. ]
Hey, pal. Little. Li'l guy. Tiny fella. Don't you think just deciding how other people feel about you without asking them about it is a more of a burden on them than letting them decide for themselves?
[ His hand lowers. ]
You're basically telling Wynonna how to feel and we both how well that's gonna go over.
no subject
March's words spark a fresh dose of alarm, and Little's eyes widen. At least it's brought him out of Sad Wet Dog Mode; now he just looks horrified by the notion. Oh, dear lord. What if he's offended Wynonna further, burdened her further? Knowing how to handle Modern People is so very difficult... ]
Ah — it wasn't my intention, I assure you. I only— she has not sought me out in quite some time, so I thought— it's been made quite clear how she feels.
[ The tips of his ears redden. He is very much not used to talking about this sort of thing! ]
She's a lady, it would be improper of me to question her state, to... ask her directly.
no subject
Wynonna is Wynonna.
[ It's nice to see Little look less like Droppy the Hound, though. It's actually really nice, and hey, March did that a little bit, didn't he? Maybe he's not complete asshole after all.
There's a horrifying thought. Back to the lieutenant: ]
Doesn't matter what your intentions are, dig? It's your actions. Or inaction. Just go talk to her.
no subject
Mr. March (Holland, he'll try to call him, even if his tongue might struggle with the lack of formality for some time to come) truly seems to be a good, decent man. And very wise, too. Little finds himself struck stunned by those words.
'Wynonna is Wynonna.'
He's... right. Little still gets extremely caught up in propriety and "decency", but... hasn't his relationship with Miss Earp transcended some of those things, too? She can't be perceived or treated exactly the same way as what he's familiar with, he does know that. Maybe it's just that with this recent argument, this rift between them, it's been.... easy to default back to the safe detachment he knows. To repress what he's so used to repressing. ....There's a whole lot to unpack here. ]
Do you truly believe... it's that simple? [ Once again, Little isn't challenging or questioning the other man's words, but genuinely asking his opinion, eyes wide and soft and earnest. Just... go talk to her. It's a terrifying thought. One countered by the terror of knowing she's been hurt and knowing he needs to see for himself if she's all right. ]
no subject
With women? Fuck no. With Wynonna? Yeah.
[ His smile turns into a grin. ]
Go get 'er, tiger.
no subject
Go get— you mean— go, now? [ He's practically done with his tea as it is, awkwardly lifting his cup into the air. And he's freshly nervous by the thought of confronting Wynonna again after... everything that's happened, and after the brawl, but... ]
....I should like to check on her condition, [ he nods, confirming it for himself again. He trusts that March made sure she was all right, but he should extend a hand to her if she needs anything too, shouldn't he? ]
Thank you for your time, Holland. [ He'll respect March's wishes to drop the formality, even if it will still take some work before Little can say it like that without looking like a gun's being held to his head. But this is progress! It's progress. ]
And your ear. It... it does mean a great deal to me.
no subject
Not every day people think I'm capable of doing much.
[ And they're absolutely right to. But March's face curls up into a genuine smile. ]
Wynonna's worth shattering that illusion a bit, I think.
no subject
March seems so... confident, though. Confident and assured, and surely well-liked. Not only that, but well-respected. Right? ]
Ah, Miss Earp is quite remarkable. If I had an ounce of her courage and goodness... I would be a better man.
[ He may be shy about her, but he's clearly not too shy to speak favourably about her character.... ]
...Forgive me if this is too brazen, but you remind me of one another. [ Given his previous words about Wynonna, this is 100% a compliment, and he nods earnestly as he moves to stand, politely setting his cup down and reaching for his cap to place on his head again. There's a little smile back as he readies himself to leave. ]
I can see why she trusts and enjoys your company.
no subject
We're stuck with each other. [ It's an agreement - and a very silent thank you. ]
Oh. One more thing, though. Keep comin' back--and I mean that. No bullshit victorian 'Oh, I'll bother Monsieur March.' This is a den of iniquity. Stop being so...
[ Shit. ]
Iquitous.
and it's a wrap!
To think that he, a man so resolutely guided by things such as morals, would frequent such a den...!
(It's nice. To be welcomed somewhere. Encouraged to keep coming back. To... "hang out", as people keep saying...)
Little isn't used to having friendships, but maybe in this place, he can learn. His smile shifts, still a little shy but warm, the browns of his eyes like melted chocolate, impossible to hide a certain glow. ]
I shall endeavour to become less iquitous.
[ Yeah he is pretty sure that's not a word, but it's okay. Believe it or not, Little was capable of being someone playful, once. ]
Until the next time we meet. [ There will be a next time, and perhaps on better terms; as he tips his head and moves to take his leave, his heart flutters uneasily with the thought of facing Wynonna, with the weight of all that has been wedged between them, but having encouragement helps. It's helped immensely. ]