seven devils all around you, seven devils in your house

[singmod]

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

A SIGN OF THINGS TO COME

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..


POLAR SUN

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.

REPRIEVE

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.

PLOTTING POST

Comments

[goingtobeunwell]

There’s no hiding his want from Raju at that cheeky little pull of his hand from his tightly-pressed thighs. Raju is a clever man; he has no doubt that it was a deliberate act.

He’s able to lean himself against the back of the chair, which allows for more holding and nuzzling, and hopefully more of what they were doing previously. His arm without the hand is placed on his waist, hand sliding sweetly down his arm and over his shoulder, up to his neck, then down to his hip. He’d assumed there’d be a shapely arse underneath all those layers, and from what he can feel he thinks he might have been correct.

It requires further study, of course.

“Much,” he purrs, wishing he had that second hand to wander as he pleased. “For you as well?”

[load_aim_shoot]

One of Francis’ arms wanders deliciously over him, and he’s so alert to the touch that he can nearly feel that skin-on-skin tingle when Francis’ fingers travel from Raju’s skin to over all his clothes. The other arm sits at Raju’s waist and seems to stay there and he wonders briefly if that one will see more use too, with time, if Raju might become almost as used to the feeling of the blunt ending of that wrist moving over him as he might to the tips of Francis’ fingers.

The thought doesn’t keep centre stage in his mind for long. There’s a lot of body underneath him to be concerned about.

“Mmm,” he hums, deep and pleased, in answer to Francis’ question. He leans forward, because he can, hand on Francis’ shoulder moving to the chair back beside Francis’ head, so he can lean himself forward to press his front against Francis’ without putting any weight on his fragile ribs. His other hand drifts up Francis’ side to plant itself against the chair there too, biceps straining against the layers of his shirts as he holds himself in place. His deep, panting breaths press their chests closer rhythmically, and blow heat over Francis’ cheeks and back against Raju’s own as Raju ducks his head toward them, holding himself with his lips less than an inch away, turning his head very slowly, tip of his nose and his breath tracing a path over Francis’ skin.

[goingtobeunwell]

Time slows. The air feels thicker around them. Crozier grows warm under the collar, warm nearly everywhere, body straining to keep himself still, comfortable trousers becoming tighter by the second. He inhales sharply, the scent of Raju mixed with soap and pine needles and a hint of sweat, and bites his own lip to hold in the helpless groan that threatens to escape him.

He tries to catch Raju’s lips, chin tilting and teeth nipping with futility. He sighs, hand splayed out now, fingers pushing in to move him forward and embed themselves in strong muscle, and tries again with a lean forward. He manages a soft and unsatisfying kiss before a thought occurs to him-

“Have you…?” Ever, he assumes the answer is a yes, but with a man? But if not he’s clearly not letting him stop him, teasing and pressing and pushing in all the right ways to make Crozier want to buck and roll his hips for some relief.

[load_aim_shoot]

He turns his head far enough back to blink into Francis' eyes, drawing an inch or two backward. It takes him a long few seconds of blank staring to move his mind from action to speech, though once he does the meaning in the unspoken part of Francis' question is obvious.

"Only with Seetha." It isn't something he'd admit to just anyone — even the rest at home pretend the two of them don't live like man and wife before they actually are, for Seetha's sake — but even if they were home Francis would be safe to tell it to, and Raju doesn't hesitate to say it. There's a concern behind the question somewhere, maybe Francis not knowing where exactly to take this either and hoping for suggestions and Raju should prompt him to find out but the thought to do it comes and goes, Raju's gaze more focused on Francis' eyes the longer he looks into them. It's the perfect distance to be looking from. He'd wanted to say something about them, hadn't he? Now feels like a good time. A perfect time.

"Did you know..." he starts and pauses for a moment, fascinated. "Your eyes. Just at the inside there, before the blue. A little bit of tan. Like the bottom of a riverbed."

[goingtobeunwell]

Only with his fiancé, which is the expected answer. It says all he needs to know. Raju has about as much familiarity with someone of the same sex as he does, but for all their inexperience it doesn't seem to matter. It doesn't feel forced or awkward or strange; it feels precisely as it should, thrilling and electric and dizzying.

He blinks softly, confused. His eyes?

Crozier glances away, a little embarrassed. Raju isn't being kind for the sake of it though, he knows that now, but it still takes him a moment before he can meet his gaze again. He'd tried this one before, hadn't he? In an off-handed comment that had made his stomach twist in little knots.

"Like the bottom of a riverbed," he repeats quietly, slowly, ultimately deciding that he's flattered. Flattered, not ashamed or disbelieving that someone would stare so intently at him, and actually like what they see. His hand slides back up to the small of his back, content to stroke along the curse of his spine for a moment. "You're a bit of a poet, Raju."

[load_aim_shoot]

Francis looks away and Raju waits patiently, studying the side of Francis' face too until those eyes make themselves meet his again. The compliment is difficult for him. It was difficult before, but this time is going better. He can feel it going better by the return of Francis' gaze, by the sweep of Francis' hand, sweeping a wash of relief up his back; to be touched with love after all this time is still a wonder and to be touched this way, the two of them as they are, is something else altogether.

A poet. He shakes his head. His eyes dart over Francis' face, and then he decides to say: "I grew up by a river. A holy river. The Godavari. It— kept us safe after... everything. Impossible for soldiers to get into the valley without crossing it, and it fed us well enough we almost didn't have to leave. When anyone had children, it's what they bathed in for the first time. It's where we soaked the urns of ashes after... any of us died. I sailed it every time Uncle came to bring me out to the city and back again, and when I was grown and started... work, it's how I came home. I'm not a poet. I only know what the river looks like."

He settles all his weight on the one forearm so the other hand can lift and trace the backs of its fingers over the skin by one of Francis' eyes. It's the side of his face that'd been so hurt, more precious for that, and he touches it very gently. "I only know what it feels like to look into it," he says simply and, because action is probably easier than words right now for them both, he leans forward just a little more and touches their lips together, this kiss now as chaste and as slow as Raju's earlier affections couldn't be.

[goingtobeunwell]

And he says he’s not a poet. He has no idea how beautiful those words sound to Crozier’s ears, how weighty and deliberate the comparison seems to be. His eyes are like the river by Raju’s home, life-giver and protector, the path to what Raju most loves.

He returns the kiss with the same gentleness, noses brushing together sweetly as he angles his head to fit them together. It’s easy work, Raju seems to mold against him as though they’d been doing this for years, every touch and shared breath feeling as natural as a shared laugh or teasing joke.

He doesn’t want to disrupt the loveliness of the moment, so he deepens the kiss with a soft caress to the back of Raju’s neck. His fingers find his hairline and he eagerly buries his hand into Raju’s thick head of hair again.

[load_aim_shoot]

The hand in his hair gets an appreciative noise from deep in Raju's throat, muffled against Francis' lips. Their lips move together; Raju's urgency is banked, in this moment, on the strength of his words because kissing him in this slow way is part of it, part of what he wants Francis to know. He feels their chests and stomachs, not pressed together in deference to Francis' wounds but touching, breathing together. The hand holding Raju up feels Francis' neck brushing the tips of his fingers, his knees and calves feel Francis' legs between them. He lifts his other hand, brushing it in return of Francis' touch, over Francis' wet hair.

"I should dry this for you," he murmurs against Francis' lips. "You'll be cold."

[goingtobeunwell]

“I’m quite warm now,” he whispers back, “unless you can dry my hair without leaving me.”

He dips his head slightly, nudging Raju’s chin up in order to bare his neck to his lips. He presses a kiss just below his jaw, then another, then another, fingers still indulgently tangled in his hair.

The taste of his skin here is headier, like Raju but touched by fire. He groans softly as his lips find the hollow of his throat.

[load_aim_shoot]

He's never wondered, not really, what Seetha used to feel when Raju did this. He tilts his head further, showing more of his throat, and huffs out a soft breath at the feeling of Francis' lips against the vulnerable skin there. The hand that'd been on Francis' face moves down to Raju's shirt, the outer layer a button up, and he starts to unbutton it a little ways, without looking. He's focusing more on the sight of Francis' head dipping toward his throat, on the sound of his lips against Raju's skin, the urge to give him access to more, even if there's another layer in the way underneath. He hadn't planned ahead for this when he'd dressed today.

"I can," he murmurs back, rough and almost absently. "I could. But you keep distracting me."