extinction is the rule

[singmod]

SEPTEMBER 2023 EVENT

PROMPT ONE — THE AURORA: AFTERSHOCKS: The Aurora comes, bringing chaos to the town of Milton. Electronics go haywire, and the Interlopers learn of the original citizens of Milton.

PROMPT TWO — THE HOUR OF THE WOLF: Tainted by the Aurora and attracted to the noise of people inhabiting the town, several packs of wolves descend upon Milton.

PROMPT THREE — IT SPEAKS: A voice comes to the Interlopers, one that knows them and their darkest fears and deepest insecurities, persuading them to fade into the Long Dark by any means necessary.

THE AURORA: AFTERSHOCKS

WHEN: Sporadic nights over the next month.
WHERE: Milton area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural horror; ‘ghost’ horror; hauntings; death of npcs in various ways including suicide, murder or exposure to elements.

After the feast, and making sure the newcomers to Milton are seen to, Methuselah packs up. He will explain to others that while he will return to check in, he is no resident of Milton and will not stay. He is a nomad, something he has been all his life. He lives in nature. That is where he belongs. But he does assure that people are welcome to remain sheltered in the Hall if they wish to. And sure enough, the old man leaves, wishing the newcomers well. He can still be found out in the wilderness, and will shelter and feed those out exploring should they come across him.

And so the days and nights of this world roll on. The initial time of those who have come to be stranded in this world is unsettled. The weather is always changing, even if it remains bitterly cold. On some nights throughout the next month, however, the snow clouds clear and Interlopers are given a rare, clear night. At first, it’s beautiful: without the light pollution, all the stars can be seen, the moon casts an eerie glow upon the snow in the dead silence of the night. One might even say there is a kind of peace that comes with it all. And for some of these evenings, they pass by: uneventful and silent — the long darkness of an endless winter’s night.

But on others, it isn’t so uneventful. The noise starts: faint at first, but then growing louder. Something in the heavens above. An ethereal, high-pitched chorus of sounds difficult to place. There’s a kind of electrical buzzing with it all, a low, endless hum punctuated with cracks and pops that echo. The sky is alive with sound, louder than anyone could ever expect it to. With it comes the swirling streaking of colour against the inky black of night, growing brighter and brighter as the night goes on: The Aurora has come.

And it isn’t the sky that comes to life too: the whole town does too. Streetlights, illuminating the town’s roads; lights in stores and homes will come alive, buzzing and flickering often. Previously abandoned cars will turn on, their headlights blaring but faltering. Electronics that had previously seemed broken flick on — and whilst there are no broadcasts available on televisions, and the radio waves only drone on in static, both only occasionally blaring standard emergency broadcasts. Any computers and phones will turn on, but will have no internet or reception. Instead, Interlopers may find texts and emails — many of them unsent. The everyday lives of their users stored within, now readable.

But there’s something else too. The Aurora doesn’t just awaken the electronics of the town. Dotted around, in the streets, in homes, in stores, the lights of the Aurora begin to take shape: spectral-like forms of people, their faces hard to make out, details difficult to define. They move in glitching patterns, they speak with voices distorted by static. Eagle-eyed Interlopers may recognise the forms of some, a body or an action:

These are the residents of Milton, in their last moments on this earth.

The forms act out short scenes on repeat: a desperate fight between two men over a vehicle, a murder in a store during a riot, a suicide alone in one of the many houses. An argument over the communication lines going down. A sobbing teen curled up on his bed. A child stares up at the skies, their hands over their ears, crying in fright. A woman begs for her father to leave his home and head to the coast with her, to try to make it to the mainland, but he refuses to leave. A man succumbs to the cold walking alone in the outskirts of town without proper clothing for the elements. Several of these ‘ghosts’ are people fleeing before they stop and simply gasp, staring off into the distance for a few seconds before they drop dead on the spot.

There is nothing that can be done to stop these endless loops. Nothing to help these poor souls. Each of these moments are captured by the Aurora: final, desperate and tragic moments in some unknown, chaotic time. Some of these ‘ghosts’ maybe stop after so many loops — flickering out into nothing, others will last all night. But all will be gone by the morning and the Aurora comes to an end. There are answers, and there are none.

THE HOUR OF THE WOLF

WHEN: Sporadic nights over the next month.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: (wild) animal attacks, altered wildlife, possible character injury/death, possible (wild) animal injury/death.


The growing presence of people within the town of Milton has meant more light, more warmth, more noise. The Aurora has created great change, but people are not the only thing the ethereal lights in the sky has brought down upon this old mining town.

When the sun slips below the horizon, and the clear skies of burnt embers and inky blues alight with stars, they come.

A lone howl, long and haunting. It is the first signal, which carries on the air. You can’t seem to place from which direction it comes from, it feels like it encompasses you. Then another voice joins it, and another, and another. A chorus of them. As the sound echoes off, another fills its place: a strange feral chittering, snarling and snapping — the drumming of feet upon the snow, heading right for you.

Wolves.

Unnatural, glowing green eyes in the dark — tendrils of light seeping from them as they rush in and encircle those they come across outside. They come in packs of three or more, and they are clever. They’re quicker than any wolf you’ve ever known, bigger and hardier too. They will try to strike fast by zipping in when you’re distracted, snapping and nipping at legs or trying to take quick bites out of arms before drawing back. They work together to bring their prey down, a solid unit of noise and teeth. They will hunt down those who hide inside, try to claw their way inside of homes and buildings — dead set on finding you and tearing you apart. There is no hiding from them. They will find you.

But breaking the pack can send them back. If they’re broken, their morale is depleted. Fire is your biggest friend: torches, campfires and flames will keep them mostly at bay and only the bravest of these packs may attack. Striking them with flares or flames will actually send them into brief retreats. Bullets and arrows are effective with both noise and injuring the wolves, and although hitting one will be difficult due their speed, it’s possible. Killing one of these wolves will dissolve the pack’s morale entirely, and the rest will flee off into the night.

Until next time. Maybe it’s best you don’t stick around. They do hold a relentless determination.

IT SPEAKS

WHEN: Over the next month, possibly longer.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: psychological horror; mental manipulation; themes of suicide; themes of depression; potential self-harm; potential feelings of isolation; potential attempted suicide.

There are whispers. Small, at first. Distracting. Perhaps it is only the wind you hear. Milton is so quiet, even with the new hustle and bustle of the new people to this place. Wood creaks and the trees rustle, there are plenty of sounds you could mistake it for.

‘Interloper.’ It is an old voice. Something deep and dark and ancient. Something impossible, older than the earth itself. It floats into your ears and nestles there, sending an ice-cold shiver down your spine. Even to the most stoic and unshakeable souls, it is a unnerving voice. It feels wrong. It feels like an ending. To hear the voice is deeply unsettling... and yet... you recognise it.

It comes to you, in the dead of night when sleep is far. In the long stretches of day as you go about your business, as you travel across the frigid landscape or gather firewood or try to pass the time within whatever home you’ve made for yourself. For some the voice will be clear as day, for others it may be some distant whisper — something gently murmuring in your ear. But the voice will be heard, no matter the person.

‘Interloper. Do you know what it means?’ It asks. ‘It means one that involves itself in a place it does not belong. You do not belong.’

That it isn’t the only thing it tells you. For everyone, it’s different. It knows you. It picks up on any weakness, any insecurity. It makes you feel small, insignificant. It tells you all the quiet, terrible things you hide down within yourself. For days, weeks, the voice is there. Speaking to you. It will wear you down, insist you are not wanted, that you do not belong here.

... And wouldn’t it be better if you weren’t here at all?

The voice seeks to break you. It will push you to your limit. Sleep will become hard to find, your spirits low and hollow. In time you might seem to believe it. Maybe it’s better if you weren’t here. You don’t belong in this place, why should you stay?

‘Disappear, Interloper. Go into the Long Dark.’

Perhaps you next find yourself atop the steep cliffs, looking down into the Milton Basin below. Perhaps you find yourself with a gun in your hand, or a rope. Perhaps you find your feet carrying you out into the snow. You’re going to disappear. You’re going to go into the Dark.

Or maybe the voice isn’t so loud. You can push it down, ignore it. Perhaps Faith is what keeps you steady, perhaps knowing who you are despite your faults stops the voice from taking over. Maybe you can help those who can’t block out the voice. Words of encouragement, affirmation, kindness, determination, even spite. The voice wants you dead, but you will not let it. You will not fall. You will not let anyone else fall, either.

FAQs

THE AURORA: AFTERSHOCKS

1. While examples are given, players are encouraged to come up with their own ghostly loops of similar loops. The key thing to remember is that the people of Milton have descended into public disorder. Fights, arguments and murders have occurred, as have suicides or other unexplained deaths. People are frightened. They want to leave the town.

2. Ghostly loops cannot be interacted with, only witnessed.

3. There is no way of putting these 'ghosts' to rest. These loops are more like residual memories, as if the energy of the townsfolk remained, and have been reconstructed by the Aurora.

4. The wolf attacks and Auroras occur on sporadic nights over the course of the next month, with the Aurora being the first thing, then the wolves. It's unlikely you'll get both on the same night. While the wolves are attracted to the Interlopers' activity, the Aurora's light and noise will keep them away from the town during Aurora Nights.

5. Sharp-eyed Interlopers may notice that the 'ghosts' of those who are staring off into the distance before gasping and dropping dead are looking skyward, towards the east.

THE HOUR OF THE WOLF

1. Due to the Aurora's influence, these wolves are harder, better, faster, stronger, than typical wild wolves. They do not die as easily, and are much more difficult to wound and kill. But not impossible. Scaring the wolves will be far easier to accomplish.

2. Wolves will return, sometimes more than once on the same night, or on other nights during the month. The only sure-fire way to have them stop coming back is to kill the pack.

3. Wolf meat is technically edible. But not advised due to parasites. Characters are still welcome to harvest the wolves they kill, however. Who would say no to a cool ass wolf cape.

4. The wolf attacks and Auroras occur on sporadic nights over the course of the next month, with the Aurora being the first thing, then the wolves. It's unlikely you'll get both on the same night. While the wolves are attracted to the Interlopers' activity, the Aurora's light and noise will keep them away from the town during Aurora Nights.

IT SPEAKS

1. Characters can be talked down and broken from the voice's influence by others. Genuine connection and empathy will work massively, but even encouragement and affirmations to keep surviving will be powerful enough to break the voice's hold.

2. Players are welcome to play with the length of time the voice can be heard with characters. Some may want to have it over a short space of time, others can have this progress over a longer time period.

3. The voice can come at any time over the next month.

PLOTTING POST

Comments

( open ) the hour of the wolf — ;

[birkenstock]

[ Barbie is just minding her own business in a newly rejuvenated abandoned town in the frozen tundra, as you do, when she hears ... well, she hears the sound of low growls, maybe a little whimpering, and the pattering of canine feet. She can only assume that these are dogs, strays maybe, and they're probably hungry and looking for scraps. It's cold and food is scarce even for them in their fur coats; she can totally understand.

And no, she doesn't have a whole lot but she's certain she can find a loaf of bread somewhere in the town hall that the others won't mind sharing with cute, fluffy —

Wait.

Those too-bright green eyes don't look okay. Or normal and dog-like. When one steps out past the too-dark shadow and further into the light, she takes one shaky step back. The growls suddenly don't sound so harmless anymore, and the whimpering was more than likely entirely imagined.

Her voice is too quiet, even a little shaky when she says: ]

You're not friendly at all, are you?

[ They start to advance and it all happens so fast. Like a blur of dark, matted fur and specks of bright green, they begin to chase after her. And Barbie, thankfully wearing proper boots and not high heels, tries to outrun them, shouting for help as she passes by lit houses. ]

Please! Help!

[bigbaddy]

[ If asked about it, Bigby would deny it's the call for help that drew him outside. He'd probably say it was the sound of wolves suddenly so close by, rather than in the far distance like they had been for the past while.

(Both reasons, however, would be part of what actually got him to act.)

Regardless, it doesn't take long for him to witness the blonde being chased by the creatures for the man to let out a: ]

Shit!

[ This is the exact scenario he had been worried about. The fucking wolves getting into the fucking town. If Bigby were at his usual strength, he knows he'd have no problem fending off the multiple creatures chasing the woman, but as-is?

Probably not too great of an idea.

So he instead just throws the door to his house further open, calling out. ]

In here..!

[ He just hopes Barbie spots the open door in time to be able to sprint in there - because if she does, he slams the door shut behind her, trying to barricade it with his body if the wolves still try to give chase. ]

[birkenstock]

[ The light spilling out into the evening air of the man's house gets her attention immediately, very closely followed by his shout for her attention.

In here! he calls, and Barbie doesn't even hesitate to change her course, making a run for the warmth and the illumination, and most of all: the safety from the sharp gnashing teeth that clip at her heels (not literal heels, mind you, which is a necessary distinction to be made). She's breathless, and her heart is hammering in her chest by the time she makes it past the threshold before he's throwing the door closed behind them as the wolves grunt and howl from the other side.

Suddenly the walls and the door seem too thin.

Barbie has never felt so frightened in her entire life, certainly not since she'd become human for real.

She swallows, her voice a little shaky when she manages to speak. ]

Thank you.

[bigbaddy]

You can thank me--

[ Apparently the man isn't even able - or allowed to finish the sentence before there's already banging against the door from the other side. It makes the door itself shake, even with Bigby still trying to block it, like something is throwing itself at it from the other side.

It makes the man wince, but he doesn't fully stop talking, only pausing for a moment before he continues again. ]

-- by moving that over here.

[ He gestures with his head in the direction of something standing not too far from the door - a small wooden cabinet.

Because it's not like he can stand here and block the door by himself forever. ]

You think you can manage that? [ Hey, Bigby has long learned to never underestimate a woman. He wouldn't be surprised if Barbie could just shove that thing around all by herself. ]

[birkenstock]

[ Barbie yelps at around the same time that Bigby is interrupted, and she shrinks back another step or two further into the room.

Of course by the time he's finished his sentence, she's somewhat snapped out from that new spike of fear (and anxiety, which is great, yeah — why does she have to feel like this now?) and follows his gesture to the wooden cabinet. ]

Oh! Yes. Yes, of course. [ He might be a little disappointed that Barbie lacks superheroic strength, and being that most of the movement of the objects around her have always been done through the magic of ... well, magic, this is going to take a moment or two. Object-movement usually just happens. (She's still learning how to dress herself, with all of the actions that it entails.)

But she's going to give it her best try, even if it does become something of a struggle, because she's fueled by necessity and adrenaline and being so much more afraid of those wolves than her own shortcomings. ]

Are wooden cabinets always this heavy?

[bigbaddy]

[ Usually Bigby would've offered to help her at this point. But he knows that it's going to be a problem when he moves away from the door, and he'd really have her struggling with trying to move a piece of furniture than with having a wolf at her throat.

(He's pretty sure she can agree on that one without him having to ask.) ]

Yeah. [ He instead says, voice almost casual despite the occasion, though a hint of something more tense in it betrays that he is worried about this situation, even if he's still giving it his all to keep blocking the door here while she struggles to get closer. ]

First time moving anywhere or something?

[ Even if them coming here wasn't exactly voluntarily moving somewhere, now was it.. ]

[birkenstock]

Oh, I can move just fine. But the things around me ... well, I'm used to it all just happening when it needs to be because that's just the way I've been played with.

[ Don't think too hard about the way it sounds, Bigby.

With a grunt and her best efforts at play, she does manage to drag the cabinet over as fast as she can, right by Bigby and the door. It groans in protest against the flooring, wood scraping against wood, but she succeeds just about when she starts to notice the door bucking against Bigby's weight as the wolves determinedly strive to push their way in, yipping and growling on the other side.

Finally, successful, Barbie relinquishes the very last of her strength, her arms suddenly feeling very much like spaghetti noodles. ]

[bigbaddy]

[ Ah.

Hm.

Yes.

That sure is something to mention so casually, huh. The one upside is the fact that it's not like Bigby comes from a super normal world. He isn't sure how to interpret that play, but considering the kind of other fairytale beings he's dealt with back home, his imagination probably comes pretty close to the actual reality of the situation.

Not that he has even a moment to ask her about it right now. You've got to know how to have some priorities, and dealing with these wolves is the biggest one right now. He moves aside when she gets close enough with the furniture, even helping her with the last tiny bit, once the cabinet starts blocking the door enough for Bigby to give up the block of his own weight and help pull it over.

Obviously he isn't quite as exhausted as her, but the man is still breathing a little harder than the usual, if not just because the adrenaline is still running through his veins at record speeds. ]

.. are you alright?

[ He at least bothers to ask, glancing at the cabinet to make sure it's holding - it is, thankfully, though with some shaking - against the pressure the wolves seem to be applying to the other side of the door, before looking back at her. ]

You did great.

[ Look, don't tell anyone he said something nice, okay. But Bigby can't help but want to at least reassure her a little. Maybe since the situation is so intense, or maybe just because he has a big soft spot deep down for people who do their best. ]

[birkenstock]

[ Barbie nods the affirmative to his question, rubbing at her arms a little, and offering her best smile to reassure him that she is, indeed, telling the truth.

Because she could be worse, but she isn't because he's here and he seems to have a much better idea of how to handle the creatures on the other side of the door than she ever could. The occasional shaking of the door and the growls and groans from the other side do continue to rattle her, but she's doing her absolute best to ignore it.

She finds a nearby flat surface to perch herself against for a moment instead, because her knees feel like they just might jitter her all the way through the floor. ]

I'm all right, thank you. And you — you're wonderful. [ Because unlike him, Barbie has no problems doling out compliments or gratitude when it suits. ] I don't know what I would have done if you didn't find me when you did. Or know how to keep those wolves away.

[bigbaddy]

[ Her reply gets the man to have a bit of an odd expression on his face for a moment. It'd almost be comical, were the situation not so dangerous. The wolves are still howling right outside the door, and yet for a moment Bigby just looks.. kind of too baffled to speak in the face of the compliment. Despite the man's gruff face, he looks almost shy, for lack of a better term.

Especially since he does avoid direct eye contact with Barbie for a moment, and then clears his throat in a clear attempt to regain some of his composure.

(Look, when you're used to hearing nothing but insults for ages, what do you do when you get such a strong compliment out of the blue? Bigy doesn't know.) ]

's fine. [ He half-mumbled, before trying to strengthen his voice again as he continues, trying to seem a little less awkward or weak. ] This is my job.

[ A slight pause, and then he remembers-- ]

Though I hope being played with isn't yours. [ And then for a very normal question that's actually only normal to literally just their worlds: ] Are you some sort of puppet?

[ Look.

He knows Pinocchio, okay. ]

[birkenstock]

[ Oh, no — cute! Except that Barbie remains completely and delightfully unaware, her expression still as pleasant as she can keep it in light of everything going on. She watches him for a moment, and then she glances back towards the closed door and the wooden cabinet currently blocking the path, and she really hopes those wolves will grow bored soon and find something else to occupy their time.

Something a little less ... murdery. ]

Oh, no, being played with wasn't my job. My job was just ... I guess being Stereotypical. [ She's going to make absolutely no sense, sorry Bigby. ] And then I found that I didn't like that at all, so ... I changed my path.

But I'm not a puppet, I'm a doll. Or I was a doll. You've ... never heard of Barbie before?

[metaldad]

When he arrived, Din had taken it upon himself to patrol the town's perimeter for danger on a daily basis. He's not alone, others have had the same idea, so Din does his best to work silently and efficiently and not tread on anybody else's toes. Ever since the aurora bloomed across the night sky and howls sounded in the forest, he's stepped up those patrols. Not just the perimeter anymore, but in the streets of Milton too.

It's dark, but his helmet's visor has nightvision with the electricity working, so his movements are still sure and steady. But he doesn't exactly need technology to hear the cries for help coming from down the street, or to see the woman running as fast as she can toward him and the dark shapes behind her.

Din pulls his blaster and fires, a red streak tearing through the air. The power's unstable, and the blast is weak, but it still slams into the shoulder of one of the wolves, sending it tumbling with a yelp. They don't slow, though. Din plants his feet, and withdraws a long spear of unbroken metal, both gloved hands gripping the handle, point tilted down toward the snow.

"Keep running toward me," he calls, "and I will intercept."

[birkenstock]

[ Barbie runs.

She runs as fast as her legs can carry her, and in clunky winter boots and a clunkier winter coat, she suddenly understands that fashion can sometimes get in the way of utility. Perhaps she ought to be looking into a much more practical coat — but that's only if she even survives this night.

When the blaster goes off and a thin beam of red cuts through the crisp winter air, she honestly isn't sure what she should be more afraid of: this man and his weapons, or the wolves. But it manages to slow the feral creatures in their chase, and that's more than enough for her.

So she continues in his direction and isn't too proud to duck behind him. He's armoured for one thing, and he's got that gun-thing with the red light that seems to hold them off. ]

Oh, thank you! I don't know where they came from, only that they're really, really fast.

tw animal death

[metaldad]

"Starving creatures usually are," Din replies.

With the woman ducked behind him to hide, Din squares up. The wolves are thundering toward them, paws pelting on snow, howls on the wind. If they were ever creatures of stealth, that has been long abandoned as they come so close to their desired prey. Din does not know what sort of behavior is natural to these wolves in this land, but he's going to guess that this is unnatural for them.

He waits. He waits until he can see the lead wolf's pupils in amongst glowing green, and he strikes, the spear's tip slicing upward. The lead wolf's momentum does most of the work, the spear piercing its chest, and Din does the rest of the job, thrusting it deep into the beast's ribcage. It howls in agony, but Din's aim is too good for it to suffer long. It slumps into the bloody snow, and the rest of the wolves whimper and whine and slink backward.

Before long, they're alone once more. Just a dead wolf to keep them company.

Din withdraws his spear. His helmet turns to the side. "Are you okay?"

[birkenstock]

[ Barbie watches with wide eyes, unable to tear herself away from the violence and the gore, like watching a horrible trainwreck ... or, well, something like murder, for the very, very first time.

She's never seen anything like this in Barbieland, and not in the Real World either, and stuns her. How gushy the wolf had been, how much blood a creature that large and yet so small could carry, and how quick the helmeted man had to act to avoid being overwhelmed by the large furry beast.

She starts to blink but she appears to be in some form of shock. ]

I've — [ She swallows. ] — I've never seen that before.

[metaldad]

She seems uninjured, so Din busies himself with stooping down to scoop up a handful of snow, rubbing it over his spear to wash it free of blood. Her blank proclamation that she's never seen that before has Din's helmet swiveling, staring at her silently.

It's not that surprising, he supposes. There are lots of people on the core planets that grow up in rich cities and never have to deal with anything beyond swatting the occasional fly. They've never seen death, not even the deaths of the animals that feed them. It's just been a long, long time since Din has known someone that innocent.

He stifles a sigh, uncertain, and a tiny bit guilty.

"Do you have any friends here? Or someone you're staying with?" In other words, does she have anybody that she feels safe with; somebody she can go to for emotional support right now. "I will escort you to them."

[birkenstock]

U-um. Yeah.

[ Barbie shakes her head. ]

I do, I live with a couple of really good friends. But — I can't possibly leave you alone, right? What if those things come back?

[ And maybe there's a part of her that doesn't want to be left alone. She can't guarantee that Ken and March will be home when she gets there, and the thought of running into another one of these wolves has her skin crawling. Their teeth are just ... so sharp, and all of that blood spilling right out of them gives her the extra heebie-jeebies. ]

[metaldad]

Is she... concerned for his safety?

Din's silent for a long moment, not entirely sure how to process that. He's in full body armor, he has at least half a dozen weapons strapped to him, he just killed a wolf with relative ease, and she's still... worried for him. That's unusual. It speaks to the kind of heart she must have; an impossibly kind one.

He mentally rearranges his opinion of her from sheltered and oblivious and probably rich to naive but sweet.

"I can stay with you for a while," he replies, thoughtful. "As long as it takes for your friends to arrive, if they are gone. I am more useful out here, though, so I will have to return to my patrols eventually."

He makes a little gesture, and sheathes his spear on his back once more. "Lead the way."

[birkenstock]

[ You bet your metal butt she is. Of course, she's also concerned for her own safety too, but she likes to make sure that everyone around her, especially those who have done a heroic deed on her behalf are also safe and sound. It only makes sense. ]

Of course. I wouldn't want to keep you from your duty.

[ But she silently thanks her lucky stars that he'd agreed, and isn't going to go off on his own right away, leaving her on her own.

And so she starts off towards the direction of the Snowjo Dojo Casa Dreamhouse, keeping her pace with the armoured man. Up ahead, the houses are all well lit and it's such a stark contrast to what it'd looked like when they all first arrived. The place she lives in looks almost like all the others, except that Ken must have cleaned the porch a little, some of the snow has been cleared away. ]

Thank you again. I really don't know what I would have done if you hadn't shown up when you did.

[metaldad]

Din follows, and though his hands aren't on his weapons anymore, he's ready to draw them at a moment's notice if more of the wolves appear. They're tenacious, he's observed, and there seem to be multiple packs all with the same goals. It wouldn't surprise him if another pack attempted to succeed where the other had failed.

At her thanks, he inclines his head, the lights of the nearby houses shifting over his helmet. "It's good that I was there in time." He hates to think what would have happened if he wasn't.

He falls silent for a moment, and then asks:

"How are you faring, other than wolf attacks? Are you keeping warm? Fed?" Much like he'd contributed a good portion of funding for his covert, Din can't help but want to look out for the little community here, even if he doesn't know most of them.

cw: animal injury

[moralabsolutism]

[Having been a superhero for far more years than he wants to think about, Rorschach's ears were basically attuned to the sounds of people screaming in terror or asking for help. So while he'd been at rest in one of the houses he'd taken over, at the sound of a woman calling out for help, he immediately snapped to attention.

He'd dealt with the wolves earlier and still had some supplies with him. As Barbie came around a corner, she'd see the masked vigilante burst through the door from the cabin where he'd been staying.]

Over here!

[As she came closer, Rorschach took in the sight of the wolves. He picked the biggest one, figuring that had to be the leader. As he'd learned over the years, take out the leader of any group, and the rest tended to hesitate before taking you on. When the wolf got close enough, Rorschach tossed paint thinner on them, soaking their fur with the substance. Then he lit a match and tossed it onto the creature. It immediately went up in flames, the crackling sound of its fur on fire mixing in with the yelps of pain.]

sorry for the delay!!

[birkenstock]

[ She actually yelps at the sight of the masked man with the disconcerting splotches all over his face. Is he hurt behind that mask? Did something happen between him and the wolves? Did they attack him?

Barbie takes a second to deliberate whether she's safer with this stranger than she is with the wolves and decides that at the very least, there's one of him as opposed to five (or whatever) of the wolves, and so she dashes forwards.

What she doesn't expect is for the man to set the nearest wolf aflame, the sharp stink of burning fur and flesh very nearly causing her to choke on her own breaths.

She's ... well, a bit horrified. Shakily she tries to prompt his attention, voice quavering. The other wolves shrink back, but their teeth are still bared, their growls low as they wait for the fire to die down before making their next move.

Barbie doesn't want to be around for that. No thank you. ]

Please — we need to get out of here.

No worries!

[moralabsolutism]

Inside.

[He said, gesturing to the cabin he'd just come out of. It was small but the advantage of having only two small windows set high up, so it was easily defensible if the wolves tried to break in.

Once the two of them were inside, Rorschach pulled a large bookcase and then a chair to block the door. For being rather short, he was surprisingly strong. Right now, he was all business, as if he dealt with vicious man-eating wolves on a daily basis. He strode purposefully into the kitchen and returned with a knife in one hand and a rolling pin in the other. He offered the latter to Barbie.]

Anything tries to come in, hit them with this.

[birkenstock]

[ It's the wolves or the strange man again, and with that, she doesn't hesitate to follow him back into the house, watching as he drags a bookcase across the door to keep the wolves out.

She accepts the rolling pin, holding it in one hand like it might be the knife currently in the man's hand. ]

— what? Will this work?

[ At least it isn't fire, and she thinks she much prefers it. ]

[moralabsolutism]

Heavy enough to break a bone.

[He replied. He'd gotten into more than one scrap while in a kitchen and had learned how deadly how many of the objects held within could be. If hit hard enough, a rolling pin could absolutely kill a person. Or in this case a wolf.

He began patrolling the small house, making sure that there were no weak spots the wolves could try to break in.]