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singillatim2024-06-05 12:00 am
singmod) wrote in singillatim2024-06-05 12:00 am
Entry tags:
- *event,
- benton fraser: lorna,
- bigby wolf: jelle,
- billy gibson: jelle,
- casper darling: mimi,
- chloe frazer: tess,
- cornelius hickey: kates,
- damian wayne: cass,
- edward little: jhey,
- francis crozier: gels,
- jessica hamby: devi,
- john irving: gabbie,
- kate marsh: cheryl,
- kieren walker: cheryl,
- konstantin veshnyakov: jhey,
- lalo salamanca: amber,
- lestat de lioncourt: beth,
- levi ackerman: dem,
- levi jordan: cirape,
- louis de pointe du lac: tea,
- peter parker: trace,
- randvi: tess,
- rorschach: shade,
- ruby rose: josh,
- sam carpenter: lia,
- snow white: carly,
- svetlana nazarova: kota,
- tim drake: fox,
- vasiliy ardakin: yasmine,
- wynonna earp: lorna
seven devils all around you, seven devils in your house
JUNE 2024 EVENT
PART ONE — A SIGN OF THINGS TO COME: The Darkwalker claims another victim, and that is only the beginning of troubles for the Interlopers as they face a month of endless night and green gloom.
PART TWO — POLAR SUN: As June continues, Interlopers are faced with food insecurity as wildlife flees; tensions grow as they face hunger and the Darkwalker's continued influence. On the day of the Summer Solstice, the tension finally breaks and violent chaos descends upon Interlopers.
PART THREE — REPRIEVE: The end is in sight, and an ally comes to the Interloper’s aid.
A SIGN OF THINGS TO COME
WHEN: June 1st, then onwards.
WHERE: Milton area; Lakeside area (Carter Hydrodam).
CONTENT WARNINGS: death of playable character; supernatural death; mention of dead body; themes of death; supernatural beings; themes of terror; themes of peril.
The evening is quiet and still. May draws to a close and while the sun does not completely set, it dips low enough for the sky to grow a little darkdim with twilight. The midnight sun is almost upon the Northern Territories, the air is warmer than it has ever felt — even if it remains chilly. If this is summer, it is but a gentle brush of reprieve against the unyielding winter. The Interlopers wind down for the night, many turn to their beds to sleep, others sit awake and ponder their existence in this world. They think of home, of loved ones, of their predicament here in this place. The Forest Talkers, the strange beasts and monsters they’ve encountered.
The moon wanes in the skies, nestled amongst the stars. For those still awake to notice, they can see it: slowly, one by one, the stars begin to go out. Then the moon's light is swallowed whole, and a blanket of green gloom descends upon the Northern Territories.
The sky is dark and green and terrible. Many of those will recognise it, what this means and what will come. Others will not understand it, not know what it is that awaits them all.
They will soon find out: the Darkwalker comes.
Under a green sky, a cold fear washes over you — squeezing the breath from your lungs. Interlopers will find themselves overcome with that fear, and everything in their bodies and minds tells them to run. To flee. And so you run, heading for cover. Curtains will be drawn, some may hide under beds, within closets or wardrobes. Some desperately attempt to conceal themselves, make themselves small, unseen. Some Interlopers, in that fear, may rush to friends or loved ones to hide with them, others may simply cower alone — crawling and whimpering away from the night. The fear is irrational, unable to be overcome — even by the bravest or most stoic of Interlopers.
For those within Milton, it is further away but is by no means less potent: Interlopers will find themselves frozen with the constant loom of the Darkwalker’s arrival — even if it does not come to Milton. Those within Lakeside, however, will feel the true force of this presence: more like a knife edge — painfully gripping your heart as it draws close.
The Darkwalker howls: indescribable, unnatural, demonic. Low moans and groans. It comes from the east, the faint booms of footsteps in the distance growing ever nearer. It is coming, once more. It's coming for one of you. And still, you are powerless, unable to do anything. And it is an agony, awaiting its arrival. You cry, you whimper, you cower. Curling up for some shred of comfort, and finding none.
For those in Lakeside, through the fear, they may be able to note the path: a straight line from the east towards Carter Hydrodam. It seems to go on forever, building into a crescendo. Your heart beats so hard you fear it may burst from your chest, as if you might die of fright.
There is an almighty sound; the Darkwalker devours and even with the distance you can hear it. The sound of gnashing teeth, and… laughter. There is no scream, no bright light in the sky — Enola is silent this time. There is only that laughter, echoing off into the night.
The skies do not return to normal. The green gloom hangs in the air. It is done, but it is not yet over. While the overwhelming fear dissolves away, but a kind of… dread remains on the air — almost palpable.
The Darkwalker has devoured another. Braver souls who go out to investigate into Lakeside will find just who has been devoured once they reach the Hydrodam — although it may be a day or two before they will find the body in the medical bay.
At least it is cold enough that the rot does not fully set in — but death will certainly be here.
And this is but the beginning of the Interloper’s troubles.
POLAR SUN
WHEN: The month of June, up to Midsummer’s Eve + Summer Solstice.
WHERE: Milton area; Lakeside area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: themes of survival; food scarcity/food insecurity; supernatural weather; altered mental states; mental manipulation; themes of violence; potential character injury; potential character death; potential NPC death.
In the coming weeks and days, and weeks, the green gloom lingers. From the Darkwalker’s attack, there is no sun. No day, no night. No stars or moon or sun. No Auroras. Just the gloom and biting cold. Life becomes increasingly hard on Interlopers: higher expenditure on fuel — fires and lanterns are imperative to keep the darkness and the cold at bay.
With the green gloom in the air, the wildlife becomes more scarce — as if it has been frightened away into the deeper parts of the wilds. It will be harder to bring in fresh meat in both Milton and Lakeside, and Interlopers will find that they will have to rely on whatever stores they have — and perhaps even rationing for a while.
And it’s not the only thing frightened. Even with the debilitating fear that comes with the Darkwalker’s attack gone, there is still a kind of fear that lingers on the air that slowly eats away at the Interloper’s resolve over time.
Interlopers will find themselves anxious, on edge. Some will be prone to anger in their fear, others prone to fits of melancholy: tearfulness and sorrow. Between the cold, the lack of fresh game and the fear on the air — it’s no wonder spirits are low. Bickering and minor upsets between Interlopers are likely.
They call it the midnight sun, the polar day. It's opposite is the polar night. This is neither and both. On the day of midsummer's eve, that fear on the air is even more palpable. The air feels a little stifling at times, as if the pressure is all off — often quite oppressive, a strange kind of tension. There is something brewing, a low burning thing that begins from the moment Interlopers wake — heavy and sharp in their chest.
’So, Interloper. What will you do now?’ A voice sneers in your ear. The very same voice that has haunted Interlopers since the very beginning. The Darkwalker finally speaks after all these weeks of gloom since its most recent attack. ’When all is gone, when even the sun does not rise? What will you do then?’
A nervousness sits within you as you remember the Darkwalker’s words. What will you do if the sun does not rise? If the darkness is all that is left? If the food runs out? Your wonderings will continue to gnaw away within you. The darkness is hollowing.
’Will you lean on others, like you have always tried to do?’ the voice continues. ’What bonds you hold with them, the ones with those around you. But how strong are they, truly? Can you trust them? Will it matter when your belly is empty and your heart is low? Perhaps it is time to see.
’Never forget, Interloper. I am the Rot. And I will rot within you.’
As the day progresses into the Solstice, that tension lingers in the air, and the wonderings within you continue to wear at you. You find yourself becoming more and more agitated as time goes on. Those feelings that have been brewing for some time now have started to grow close to boiling. You may snap at others, grow restless, become enraged at the tiniest of things — the upsets wildly out of proportion for the smallest slights or issues.
You find your thoughts wandering, too. Perhaps it is to someone you know in this place, or perhaps it is to someone previously unknown to you. Maybe you have an issue with this person, or perhaps the voice’s influence extends further — not only adding to your agitations but creating them, too. A slight, a grudge, a bias.
You feel a bitter gnawing within you. The nightmarish green gloom above you persists and everything bubbles up from within. From the dark, the anger within you become too much. The tension finally snaps.
For some, it might come out as a vicious argument where you air your grievances, or finally let slip the things you’ve been holding close to your chest. A verbal beat down, incredibly hurtful in nature. For others, things may be drawn to getting physical. A literal beat down where your fists grow bruised and bloody, or perhaps even worse. Whatever it is, you want to do damage to someone else — there is darkness here, and so many things come out in the dark, don’t they?
Like a ripple, all around you: all hell breaks loose. Chaos erupts, and the air is filled with violence.
Let’s hope you might stop, or someone else stops you, before someone gets killed.
REPRIEVE
WHEN: Circa three days after the Summer Solstice.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: blood.
All things must come to an end, even the most violent of deadly storms. In the midst of the seemingly endless violence of the night, you find yourself outside. Maybe you're fleeing from another Interloper, maybe you're desperately trying to reach someone you care for, maybe you're simply trying to find somewhere new to hide. Interlopers are hunting one another, blood lies on the snow, bodies too — some breathing, some not.
Perhaps it is a trick of the light. Perhaps it's the Darkwalker’s influence still warping your already frayed mind. Or it's the blood in your eyes, your battered and bruised body struggling to get through it all.
In the gloom, you see it. See her.
A woman, dressed in furs, stones and shells glimmering on her chest like armour, stands in the snow before you. Thin and pale, eyes sunken. Her chest heaves with each breath as she looks around with wide eyes. Her hands are bare and bloody. It drips slowly from her fingers. Is it her blood? Or someone else's? You cannot tell, but you cannot mistake how thick it coats her skin.
Her head turns to look at you. You are stunned, but not frightened. Even through the gloom, after a moment or two, her eyes widen in recognition: she knows you.
Slowly and silent, other than her noisy breathing, she draws close to you. Maybe in turn you draw close to her, closing the distance between you. Up close, her eyes are blue, and sad. You cannot mistake the sorrow in them. She is tired, weary. Her hair is dark, worn loose and long. For some, you feel as if you've seen her before, but you can't quite place her face.
Softly, she says your name.
For some, there may be no recognition. This woman is a stranger, who knows your name somehow. She has been silent the past couple of months, after all.
For others, hearing her speak brings a sudden, jarring realisation: this is Enola.
She’s here. Enola. All this time, she’s whispered to you in dreams, in static, in the very air itself.
She raises one hand, dark and dripping in the green light. Lightly, her fingers brush against your chest. You don’t feel the pressure of them, don’t feel the odd heat of blood — only the weight of her stare as she holds your gaze. It’s a long moment of peace in amongst the chaos.
You feel her exhaustion, a tiredness that sinks into your very bones. Apologies, too. You have never known anything like it. But there’s something else too, something that takes a moment or two to put your finger on. Defiance. A renewal. Something shifts in the air, a growing tension, different from the kind that’s been held on the air throughout the month. It’s the coming of a storm, the rolling clouds, the growing rumble of thunder before the first lightning strike.
Enola nods, her expression grave. She pulls away and turns from you — her head lifting towards the skies as she walks. Her arms raise, bloodied hands twisting and tensing before her. They curl, almost into fists, and she makes a gesture: the slow tearing of something huge and invisible before her — a shriek spilling from her lips. A battle-cry, a last stand, a wail of agony. It echoes.
The sky cracks and splits open before you, dazzling light and colours blinding your vision into pure white. The world tilts too hard below your feet, and you don’t remember passing out.
When you awaken, Enola is gone. The skies are clear and blue, the sun is high in the sky. As you pick yourself up from the snow, in the harsh light of the polar day, blood has never looked so red. The horrors of the night laid bare. Interlopers are dead, but the Darkwalker’s influence is gone. For now.
In the wake of Midsummer, all Interlopers can do is try reconcile. Bury the dead, rebuild, lick wounds. But that feeling in the air still remains — that different, new kind of tension that has come with Enola’s appearance. The first of the lightning bolts has struck, but more are coming.
FAQs
1. Alexander Hilbert has been devoured by the Darkwalker. His remains can be found in the Hydrodam. The following note has been left by Kates concerning his death: ‘Sveta gets possession of his research notes + blood samples + creepy lab journal because it's all in Russian, lmao.’
2. Information on the Darkwalker’s attack can be found here.
3. Usually, after the Darkwalker attacks, the sky would return to normal. This won’t happen. Instead, the usual atmospheric changes that occur during Darkwalker attacks will remain in place as June continues..
1. For an idea how the setting appears for June, it's like what you see in the game during the Escape The Darkwalker Challenge. Inside, there'll be a degree of green shades to rooms etc via what comes through windows but with it being lit up via fires and light sources, the gloom will be chased back.
2. Characters are free to use this event to kill NPC Interlopers. Methuselah and Young Bill are off the table, as are two marked NPC Interlopers. Please let Mods know if you intend on doing this for record keeping!
3. These acts of violence can be physical or verbal altercations, players are encouraged to work with the prompt however they'd like! However, anything potentially world-altering (ie. building destruction) must be first discussed with mods.
4. Interlopers under the Darkwalker's influence can be stopped in a number of ways. Showing genuine care and compassion in the face of violence is one way. Knocking an Interloper out is another way. Sometimes killing an Interloper may be needed, or simply restraining them and keeping them locked up somewhere so they can't hurt anyone else until the night is over would also work.
5. Talismans made by Heartman back in March with a Ward Sigil against the Darkwalker will come into effect during this prompt. It's been an ongoing process, with new Interlopers being offered them from their arrival. Players are free to choose what kind of talisman they received, or if they chose to get one at all. Their effectiveness is dependent on the type of blood used on the talisman.
— Animal Blood: Interlopers carrying talismans using blood from animals found in the world, such as deer, rabbits or wolves will find themselves more susceptible to the Darkwalker’s influence and disposition towards violence. They will be much harder to break out of the hold over them, and become almost frenzied state.
— Monster Blood: Interlopers carrying talismans using blood from any creatures or monsters that Interlopers have encountered in their time in the Northern Territories, such as the Serpent from December’s TDM will find there are no negative nor positive effects. The talisman is essentially useless. and Interlopers will fall under the Darkwalker's influence.
— Interloper Blood: Interlopers carrying talismans using blood for Interlopers will be offered protection/resistance from the Darkwalker’s influence and disposition towards violence. They may be slightly affected but will have their wits about them more compared to others. If the blood came from an Interloper with an Aurora Feat — this protection/resistance will be largely increased, an the Interloper may even feel braver, less affected by the fear in the atmosphere.
— No Talisman: Similar to the Monster Blood Talisman, Interlopers will be affected typically by the Darkwalker's influence in due course.
There are no additional affects with an Interloper using their own blood, just if they have an Aurora Feat or not.
6. Animals owned by Interlopers will be more frightened and will want to hide away in the build up — they will be disturbed by the world. Mostly lying down and whining/restlessness. They may display some signs of aggression on occasion, but not to the same degree of humans.
7. Forest Talkers are hidden away and will not be able to be reached during the Solstice.
1. Enola can only be met alone, but she will appear to all Interlopers in Milton.
2. Enola will be nowhere to be found afterwards, there are no tracks to be followed. She has simply vanished.
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Crozier, for all of his lack of sense in the moment, for all the wrath he’s channeling in the attempt to beat Hickey black and blue, has enough sense left to know that the second he loses the advantage of surprise Hickey’s weapon will emerge.
Hickey is agile and spry, a gangly, muscled creature that can, and most likely will, overpower him. Thankfully what Crozier lacks in deftness he makes up for in heft, and he scrambles to use his height and weight to keep Hickey pinned to the ground.
A sharp pop or two to the face also might help, and it’s either that or try to get a firm hold onto his jacket and slam him back into the frozen ground.
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As Hickey hits the ground, his brain rattling around his head, he brings his knee up to try and knee whatever part of Crozier he can hit. The man's stomach, his groin, it doesn't matter. What matters is getting this man off of him as quickly as possible.
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The jab with the knee hits right below Crozier's stomach. It's a strong hit; his eyes water and his breath gets knocked out of him for a second time. It's enough that it has him groping half-blind for some kind of purchase on Hickey again, seconds ticking away as he loses whatever gain he had to begin with.
He flings himself off and scrambles back to his feet, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand to try and regain some of his sight.
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"Planning on killing me?" Hickey snarls. "You'll have to do better than that."
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Crozier growls low, smearing the tears over his cheeks and blinking back the rest.
"Who's next?" He steps forward, enjoying immensely that Hickey tried to get away from him. It pleases him so that he's afraid. "Who's next on the chopping block? Are we all just meat hanging in the window of a butcher shop for you?"
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Ah. Hmm.
In hindsight, maybe he could have hidden that body a bit better. Because what else could Crozier be talking about? What else could draw his ire so intently? Hickey now, almost immediately knows what the former captain is talking about and is mentally just cursing himself that he didn't dig that grave a little bit deeper.
He's keeping his distance from Crozier as he spits back,
"So sanctimonious. But I know you're feeling it already. The hunger gripping your gut. How many of your men are you going to let starve this time?"
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It's barely accurate, for all the plenty that the forest still has to give to them. There's no great hunger yet, no need for panicked choices or making difficult sacrifices in the name of survival. Hickey chose to do this, so eager to spill blood that he couldn't even wait for real starvation to take hold.
"You acted too soon," he scowls, fury at the act and not the insult making him crave another swing to Hickey's face. "You're the only one desperate enough to butcher another man. It's your hunger that drives your decisions, no one else's. Do you think you can get away with outright murder?"
Crozier thinks about the knife in his boot. He keeps his gaze level, not wanting to give away the fact that he's armed. "I won't let you kill again. You'll swing this time."
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"Look around us," Hickey snaps. "Get your head out of your ass, stop hiding away in your silly little igloo and look. I'm not the only one who's made a choice. I'm just the only one you've seen."
There's something in the air. Something pushing them, making them feel this way. And at least, Hickey knows he's not the only one who can traverse the land easier. This probably means he's not the only one with the hunger, that anger driving his actions. Crozier is just too blind to see it.
Crozier's too blind to see most things.
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Crozier’s seen that look once before - standing on the top of a gig, singing a hymn while he waited to offer his tongue to a beast. He was crazed then, just as he is now.
“You’re too lazy to do the damn work,” Crozier roars back. “Lazy and selfish. You’re a parasite, you make nothing and take what isn’t yours. There are resources still available to us, but you’d rather eat the people that can help keep you alive than spend a single minute doing anything good for someone else.”
He huffs out a laugh, dry and humorless. “It’s not altruism though, is it? It’s power. It’s always been control for you. You keep people fed and they’ll follow you, is that it? What happens when you start turning on them too, mn? Like you did when your second, Sergeant Tozer, started having doubts.
“Oh, didn’t know that, did you? He grew tired of your delusions of grandeur, your selfish behavior. He was going to leave you behind and take the others back to the ships, so you knocked him in the head, chained him up to that gif, and fed him to the tuunbaq. You had no one in the end. Not a soul.”
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Crozier's accusations don't mean anything. These are the words of a man who would say anything to keep Hickey off his game. To come off as right and make Hickey think he's wrong. But he's already well aware that people here are useless. That whatever resources Crozier claims they had would be bled dry in days, weeks. People are keeping puppies, for fuck's sake. Why would he rely on people so foolish?
"And who did you have in the end?"
He knows that answer as well: nobody.
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Nobody. He didn’t have a soul left but his sorry self. But it doesn’t rile Crozier like Hickey thinks it would - it’s not a new revelation that he wound up as the sole survivor of that godforsaken expedition.
But it doesn’t stop him from wanting to tear Hickey limb from limb. He’ll be damned if Hickey’s going to kill and butcher the people he loves.
“Your ability to charm will only take you so far. When word gets out I won’t be the only one calling for your head.”
People will see reason. He has to believe it that others will be horrified.
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So might as well take him out, yeah? Or at least incapacitate the man.
Hickey doesn't say a word. Instead, he rushes in to try and punch Crozier in the face and punch him hard.
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Crozier's brain only registers Hickey moving towards him in the last two seconds before he's upon him. He isn't nearly graceful or agile enough to dodge or duck away, and Hickey's fist connects hard with Crozier's left eye. There's a crunch, or perhaps it's a pop, something splitting open or breaking, and his vision whites out from pain.
He's knocked down onto his knees, hand coming up to hold at the quickly-swelling eye.
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Hickey looks down at Crozier, scowl on his face, rage driving him at the moment.
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Another crack - maybe it's the ribs that were just recently broken when his iglu caved in on him those months back, maybe it's some other delicate part of his upper body breaking. Crozier gasps loudly as the breath is driven out from his lungs, hunching over to protect his softer internal organs and reach for his boot before Hickey can take aim again.
Somehow his blind groping finds him the knife hidden in his boot. His hand wraps around the handle and he draws it out swiftly, burying it right up to the hilt into Hickey's thigh.
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—and oh fuck he just got stabbed stabbed.
As the knife plunges into Hickey's thigh, he lets out a sharp yelp of pain before proceeding to get the hell away from Crozier by any means necessary. Running away, kicking at his feet, it doesn't matter, what matters is he needs to get away and not get stabbed again.
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Crozier's grip on the weapon is like iron despite the creeping fog at the corner of his vision, and Hickey rips the knife right out of his own muscle as he scrambles away from him. He takes the sudden advantage and pushes himself up onto unsteady feet, brandishing the bloody knife with a lopsided scowl.
He stares him down, that look of pain and surprise on his face so familiar, and wishes that he'd done this sooner. Hickey's not going to kill another person while he's still here to stop him, he won't see another friend on the butcher's block.
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But as he takes a step forward, the pain shoots through Hickey's leg and nope, he needs to get that treated. The last thing he needs is to get his leg infected. So he staggers away, glaring at Crozier before sassing,
"And finally he takes action. Plan on slitting my throat next?"
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Maybe he is. Maybe it's about damn time he took action and rid them of this problem once and for all. Hadn't that been the intent from the start when Jopson put that noose around his neck?
Hickey was supposed to be dead. If there was any justice in the world, any justice at all, he would have stayed dead. Crozier's not a brawler, he's never gotten his hand(s) dirty with punishment. He's ordered others to swing the cat and asked others to man the ropes, but he owes it to them and everyone else hear to get the blood directly on his hands.
"Or stabbing your heart," he growls, taking a step forward. He's shaky but he's still moving, still upright, enjoying the pain on Hickey's face far more than he should. "Puncturing your lungs 23 times with a knife."
Poetic.
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Truly, Hickey's suffered like nobody else in this damn town has suffered.
"You know, I don't think anybody's told Irving that," Hickey lightly teases, as he takes a step back. His leg sings out in pain but he doesn't go to the wound, he doesn't wince. He's not showing any pain unless he has to. "Who's going to be the first? After all, it won't stay a secret for long."
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Yes more taunting. It's tiresome, but he knows why Hickey's doing it. He's spiraling out of control, and all he has is that damned mouth of his.
Mn. Perhaps he should finish what he started and cut out his tongue.
"Are you running from me, Mr. Hickey?"
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Granted, if Crozier does try to stab him, Hickey's absolutely running.
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“It seems like you’re frightened of me.” Him, a one-handed, middle-aged man with a concussion! It’s delightful.
“If you run I’ll set Milton upon you. You won’t escape the noose this time.”
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"You have so much faith in people you barely know anything about," Hickey says, with a roll of his eyes. "This isn't back home, where all you have to do is say the word and men'll follow your decision, however poor it is. If it's between you and me? You'd be foolish to underestimate my pull with those here."
cw: more really gnarly cannibalism
"You have so much faith in that silver tongue of yours. Let's see what happens when they hear that you butchered someone for the Hell of it." He steps closer, and then closer again. If he has to inch to the community center this way he will - he'll find someone along the way to assist.
"Do you know what I saw when I stumbled over that body? A man barely even butchered. You cut his legs for the meat and left the rest of him to rot. That doesn't speak of desperation, Mr. Hickey. That's an excuse." He sneers at him, barely keeping his voice level, hand starting to tremble from the rage. "It's all just an excuse to try to endear yourself to your half-starving peers. You did it because you thought you could get away with it. You didn't crack open his bones for the marrow or carve out his liver. You didn't harvest the meat in his arms or in his buttocks, you took what you wanted and threw away the rest. You threw that man away."
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