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

[fidior]

[ He rarely — if ever — considers what he wants. What's important is what is necessary, what is right, what aligns with one's responsibility and obligation.

It's probably for the best that she does turn away from him. He's a black hole; everything and everyone he's tried to help ends up ruined. Maybe once it wasn't the case — but it is now. He's a shell of whatever man he once was, and he isn't... strong, isn't good, isn't anything worth protecting. And there will surely be repercussions for what he's done; it would be better in that sense too if she held no association with him here...

But she won't, and he doesn't want her to, and he sits reeling quietly from it all, staring down at her when she returns from setting her picture back, telling him that she isn't going anywhere.

Loyalty. Why is she so steadfastly loyal to him? Him? Is it for those same reasons he is, to her? There's so much he can't define, so much that's confusing, but stripped down to the core of everything, it's just — the thing that they keep coming back to, again and again. They're important to one another. It sounds so simple, too simple, but that's what it is, beneath anything else it may be.

'There's no side of you I'm gonna turn away from, okay?'

And he believes her. What a dangerous thought — and one that aches, and one that he holds onto with a desperate tightness. Someone who would never abandon him, even when it's every single thing he deserves.

(She's a killer. What happened with her father was no... no fault of hers, she was only a girl, it wasn't fair, a gunshot that struck the wrong man, but — she'd killed more men, and these intentionally. He doesn't know how many.

Does it matter? Does he actually think killer when he looks down into this woman's eyes? No. Maybe he should, but he can't. Of course he can't. Whatever else Wynonna may be, she's good. He would trust her with anything. He would defend her without question.) ]

Please, worry not for my sake. I'll catch my breath for a while, and then return shortly. Make certain that others are all right, and—

[ He needs to... deal with Mikel (but no, he can't even think of that, not really. It steals his breath with another odd shudder; the words cut off). He finally lifts his arms, hands moving to the arms of the rocking chair, as though to make movement to stand. Everything feels so heavy, sore, strange through the weight of emotions spilled and red eyes, and a heart heavy for her pains as much as his own. He still, somehow, can't quite find embarrassment through the variety of emotions within him, maybe that will come later, but for now — he isn't embarrassed.

He bared his soul and she bared hers right back. He's never experienced it before. Not like this. His voice lowers again, soft beneath the hoarse edge. ]

...I'm sure you must be exhausted, yourself. You should try to find rest, as well. I'll not disturb you.

[pacificator]

[ When he puts his hands on the arms of the chair and begins pushing up, she shifts back to her knees and puts her own hands none too gently on his shoulders, keeping him down. ]

Will you please chill out for two seconds?

[ She needs to think, and he needs probably about eight to twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep. And some food, but she doesn't have anything here. Her cupboards have been empty for weeks now. It's visible, now that she's taken off her jacket and scarf; she's never been a big woman but her slimness has turned to thinness, now. Under her shirt it would be possible to count her ribs even without her sucking in her breath. Physically, she's a shadow of her usual self, and she doesn't feel all that much better on the mental or emotional fronts, either.

But she's still got enough left in the tank to keep Edward Little from getting up and exhausting himself even further. ]

Just stay here. Everyone's okay for now, and there's nothing you can do right this second that you can't do better in a few hours after you've gotten some sleep.

[ She tips her head at her bed, neatly made and tucked against the wall. Sunlight filters through the flannel curtains she'd tacked up months ago, casting a warm and welcoming glow over the soft blankets and pillows and the rest of her cabin. They're both too shattered to really appreciate it, probably, but it's nice to finally set some sunshine nonetheless. ]

We both need to rest, and then we can figure out how to deal with things. Okay?

[fidior]

[ "Chill out"

What does that mean—

But he garners enough of the meaning when Wynonna pushes him back down. Little blinks up at her, startled, but tired. The surge of adrenaline has crossed the threshold, a wave crashing so violently upwards and then falling back down, leaving him spent. The thought of sleep, however, is almost unthinkable — as much as his entire body wants to lie down and succumb to it, his mind still spins with thoughts of where he should be, what he should be doing.

His eyes follow the woman's gesture to her nearby bed, staring there for a long moment. It almost seems unreal, the sight of it — glowing warm and soft the way it is. The sun is... strange to witness, after so long without. He's reminded, at once, of seeing sunlight again after months without it in the arctic.

Back then, he'd thought that with it, would come hope.

But only back then. Now.... he doesn't know what he feels. There is nothing shaped like hope. He feels an emptiness, one that gapes wide and might gape wider still with time, only he's too exhausted right now to even truly face that much.

Even so — and perhaps he is still somewhat human and not fully ghost after all — the sight of a warm, soft bed draws forth some instinctive, yearning need. ]

...Okay, [ he agrees, finally, but only because Wynonna said 'we both' — she needs it just as much as he. And on that note— ]

You rest first. For as long as you need. I'll keep watch to make certain no one... To make sure it's safe.

[ It's not stubbornness (maybe a little), but more of what he truly does think is right. ]

[pacificator]

What I need is to sleep for like two days straight, so probably better if I take first watch.

[ Like she's going to sit here and let him try to stay awake while she rests, even without the possibility that he might try to get out of here once she's woken up, before she can bully him into taking a break. Wynonna rocks forward to pat him on the knee, before leaving that hand there to brace her weight against him as she pushes back up to her feet. ]

Come on. My only rule is 'no boots in the bed.' Shake a leg, Little. The sooner you get some rest, the sooner you can get back out there.

[ Out there, back into a world that's settled for now but which is still filled with the detritus of the hurricane that swept through only hours, days ago. They'll need to deal with the man he killed, and maybe he'd be willing to help her with Elias, too... though she's far from sure she wants to set any of that on his shoulders when he's already dealing with so much.

Still, there's one other thing she can offer now: she goes to the kitchen and takes down a bottle of familiar golden liquid, splashes some into a tea cup. ]

Down this. Might help you sleep, definitely helps with everything else.

[ She comes back to offer the tea cup to him, a puddle of Scotch there in the bottom. She keeps the bottle for herself and taps bottle to cup with a wry lift of her wrist before she brings it to her lips for a quick swig, liquid sloshing against glass. ]

Well, it doesn't hurt, anyway.

[fidior]

[ He can't agree — if she's that exhausted, she needs to rest, not take the first watch, not let him into her bed while she stays awake and watchful. He knows Wynonna's fortitude, he's seen it in person more than once, but even she is merely human.

But for the immediate moment, at least, he seems like he'll follow her direction, staring at her hand upon his knee for the beats it stays there and then lifts — it seems to render him speechless for a few long moments — and he's slowly following suit, feeling strange and heavy and filled with too much static-y thrum.

When she hands him the cup, he peers down into it (alcohol in a tea cup, imagine....) but it is familiar, and for a moment he's just staring, remembering a time not so long ago (though it feels like a lifetime, now) that she'd shared such drink with him before. He holds onto the cup in both hands, throat feeling strangely tight all over again, though he thinks he's too exhausted to let it overtake him again. He doesn't think he could give any more to it.

After a moment, he obediently swallows the liquid, taking it in one rush, closing his eyes against the feel of it — much faster than his slow, cautious sips the last time. And then he's moving to her bed (he still wants to resist, but he's torn; this is her home, her environment, he needs to do what she says — and maybe more than that, he doesn't want to exhaust her further with arguing, knows it would be a losing battle anyway....)

He sits on the edge of it, places the cup aside, and leans forwards to undo and remove his boots, slow and quiet. When he sets them aside, it's neatly.

And then he stays sitting there, hands in his lap, gazing mutely down at the floorboards. Heavy-lidded and a little dizzy, dreary and strange, eyes still wet, even if they no longer actively leak.

He realises it quickly, blinks widely up at her. ]

I don't want to sleep. I'll—... there will be nightmares. [ It's such a pathetic, child-like thing to admit to. But again, he can't seem to feel shame in front of this woman, not now. Not this sort of shame. ]

There always are, [ he adds, mournfully. She'll have them too, he's certain of it. ]

[pacificator]

[ This whole month has been one long nightmare, but at least when they're conscious it seems like there might be something they can do about the horrors that keep springing from around every corner and underfoot. She watches him for a long moment, the way he's sitting slumped on the edge of her bed even after tucking his boots neatly away.

She tells herself not to do it, but even as the words cross her mind, she's setting the bottle down on the table and reaching for the buckle of her gunbelt to undo it. ]

Wow, it is not normally this hard for me to get a guy into bed. Must be losing my touch.

[ It's almost conversational, as she slips the belt off from around her hips, setting belt and holster and Peacemaker on the table next to the bottle before she takes the few steps needed to come and sit by his side. The mattress dips under their combined weight, and wouldn't this all be so much easier if he were someone she could just seduce and kick out in the morning? A long stretch of her arms over her head, a few none-too-subtle insinuations, and they could both have a decent rest with clear heads and tired bodies... if he were almost any other man.

But he's not, he's Little, so she has to adjust, exercise options she never usually considers. The binding on this playbook is rusty, but he doesn't seem to care how bad she is at it, so she tries anyway. Wynonna drifts in a relaxed lean to nudge her shoulder against his, trying to get him to look over at her. ]

Yeah. But at least if you start screaming in your sleep, I'll be right here to wake you up.

[ Small comfort, she knows, but sometimes it helps just knowing someone's there to drag you out of it, to bring you back to the land of the living and help you ground yourself, even if that person is, well... her. ]

Don't let a few bad dreams push you around, Little. Try to think about something good, okay? Imagine you're... tying knots.

[ She frowns at herself, dubious. ] Hauling sails? I don't know what sailors do. What's something you like?