methuselah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
singmod) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
singillatim2023-09-09 11:30 pm
singmod) wrote in singillatim2023-09-09 11:30 pm
Entry tags:
- *event,
- barbie: zelly,
- bigby wolf: jelle,
- bucky barnes: gail,
- callisto: iddy,
- castiel: noodle,
- clayton epps: thalia,
- cornelius hickey: kates,
- din djarin: cosmo,
- eddie munson: hannah,
- edward kenway: effy,
- edward little: jhey,
- erichthonios: fey,
- grace marks: bobby,
- harry goodsir: karin,
- holland march: chase,
- joel miller: noodle,
- kate marsh: cheryl,
- ken: laus,
- kieren walker: cheryl,
- levi jordan: cirape,
- max briest: justine,
- mohinder suresh: anna,
- nie huaisang: marlowe,
- nikolai lantsov: eden,
- number five: kayla,
- remy "thirteen" hadley: kaye,
- rorschach: shade,
- roy kent: cathy,
- simon "ghost" riley: milk,
- steve harrington: katy,
- takashi shirogane: terra,
- thomas richardson: beth,
- vash the stampede: fen,
- zoey westen: bri
extinction is the rule
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
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.
1. Due to the Aurora's influence, these wolves are harder,
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.
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.
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.
the hour of the wolf
Sure, Bigby knows it'd probably be safer to put something between himself and the wolves, especially since these don't seem to be normal ones. On the other hand, going into a house runs the risk of him drawing these creatures to it - and whoever is living in it.
Still, he does know he needs a few more moments to be able to deal with this situation. To figure out what to do. So the man accepts the offer, dashing right over to the door Kieren is holding open - and only in that moment realising who exactly made him the offer in the first place - the slamming the door shut behind him. ]
Hurry up, we need to barricade it!
[ Because he can hear the wolves approaching outside, still following him.
And while normal wolves might not be able to get a door like this open so quickly - Bigby feels like it won't be as easy here. ]
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There's little in him in terms of strength, but he hurries and wrenches the furniture with all the strength his body can offer him — and it scrapes against the wooden floor loudly. He shoves at it hard, trying to shift it towards the door. ]
Help me with this—! [ And with it, the wolves close in. There's a loud thud against the door, two paws against wood — the demented chattering and snarling. Kieren's stomach lurches. Oh, fuck. He shoves the loveseat harder. ] Shit, shit—!
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But there's the fact that Bigby is used to dangerous situations like these, making it a little easier for the man to keep a clear head even when adrenaline is rushing through his veins, and there's the fact that he's still strong. No longer superhumanly so, sure, but his arms are definitely bigger than Kieren's, which means the loveseat moves more when he puts his own hands on it, helping the other push it in front of the door.
Just in time, too, it seems. Because the moment the piece of furniture is blocking the door, there's the sound of even more paws hitting the door, in quick enough succession that it sounds like gunfire.
Maybe it's why Bigby takes a step back from the door, frowning at Kieren. ]
I don't think it's going to hold.
[ Sure, the loveseat will stay in place. Bigby is pretty confident about that.
But with the way the wood creaks, it could only be a matter of time the rest of the door breaks. ]
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More furniture? [ That's the only thing he can think of, just to keep throwing more furniture at the door. ] There's a wooden chest, in the bedroom. Big heavy thing.
[ At least this place is all on one floor, no carrying things up and down stairs. He looks about the living space, what else? ]
Or... or, shit, um. The table?
[ He's... he's really trying to keep his head, here. ]
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[ Look, it's not like Bigby has a whole lot of different options here either. What are they supposed to do, escape through a window and then end up running into the wolves outside either way?
Those things are quicker than them. The only thing they can try to do is outsmart them, even if it's just by having actual opposable thumbs that can move furniture around. ]
You can handle that, yeah? [ Bigby, please, look at Kieren's small arms--
But they don't have much of an option, given that: ]
I'll grab the chest.
[ Since that sounds like the heavier thing here, and Bigby is definitely the stronger one between the two of them, he figures.
Also, no, he's definitely not giving Kieren an actual moment to answer that. There's no time, remember? So Bigby is already moving into the bedroom to go grab the chest the other was talking about, lieving Kieren to deal with the table and the door by himself. ]
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Y—yeah. [ WELL GUESS THEY BETTER JUST ROLL WITH IT. Or you know, end up being wolf-food. Which Kieren isn't keen on. So he nods and moves quick towards the kitchen table, heaving the thing forwards towards the door.
At the very least, a table is far easier to flip than a loveseat. Once he's pushed it far enough, he tries turning it onto its edge to then jam it forwards against the loveseat — gripping onto the table legs and slamming his full body weight against the flat surface to keep the pressure on the door. The wolves are still trying their hardest to get through, and he's sure he can feel the rattles of movements through the furniture — much to his horror. ]
Come on, come on—! Hurry—!
[ It's hissed behind him to the other man. Oh christ, please don't let him be wolf food tonight. ]
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Here? He's capable of moving the thing despite it being heavy as hell, but it's not going easy. Or - more importantly - it's not going fast. By the time Bigby even enters the room with the thing, Kieren is already long-plastered against the door with his body like that, the man huffing and puffing as he's trying to move across the room towards the door as quickly as he can.
There's enough effort going into the carrying that he can't even speak. Only when he finally reaches the door and moves to slot the chest in with the rest of the furniture, making it push against the table to keep the other pieces in place, does he release a very deep breath. ]
Fuck-- [ .. and a curse, apparently. Maybe it was stuck in that same breath. ] This place is a pain.
[ To put it mildly.
You know, considering all the effort they're making just to keep themselves from getting torn to shreds by the most feral wolves Bigby has ever seen. ]
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... Someone else, Kieren realises with a pang of guilt. To someone else who might be caught up in it all outside.
He feels ill, his head ducking down as he grapples with an overwhelming urge to throw up. There's an audible groan at what the older man utters. God, understatement of the fucking year. ]
Yeah, no shit. [ He can't help but utter. ] ... I don't get it, I— don't... I thought wolves tend to stay away from people? Why the fuck are they trying to attack the town?
[ It's not the first he's heard of it. Some diaries left behind by Milton's original townsfolk mention something about the wildlife acting weird. But reading it is one thing, actually witnessing it is another. ]
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[ It's not even something Bigby has read anywhere, unlike Kieren. He's not speaking from information he's disgested in this place so far - no, this is all personal experience. Bigby of all people knows what wolves are like. Sure, maybe he's not exactly the most typical wolf around, but he does know what typical wolf behaviour is.
And this isn't it. This aggressiveness, entering a settlement and hunting down people. No wolf would do that. They'd know it's a bad idea, that it'd just get them killed. ]
I don't know what, but it's as if something is driving them to go into town. As if something turned them aggressive.
[ If Kieren listens well enough - over the sound of the snarling wolves outside, anyway - he might even notice a faint hint of concern in Bigby's gruff tone.
Like he's worried about the wolves, even though he should probably be a little more worried about what said wolves could do to him in this situation. ]
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He does attempt to make another guess, because even he's aware 'rabies' sounds a bit stupid. And... well, he does notice it. The concern in Bigby's voice. He doesn't know why, maybe he just... really like animals? Like sure, animals don't mean any harm — they're just trying to live their lives.
There's a small part of it all that feels oddly familiar. He knows fine well what drove him when he was reduced down to his most basic self: a monster, starving, always hunting for the next meal. ]
Or... hungry? Would wolves get desperate enough, if they were hungry?
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.. even if it may be hard to tell, considering the rest of Bigby's face. The man tends to always look so gruff.. ]
To try and eat people? Not any normal wolves.
[ Look, yes, Bigby is a wolf, and yes, he has tried to eat people, but he likes to think that's different. He at least knows the difference between your average wolf and one that's at the same time also the son of a literal force of nature. ]
They'd probably turn on each other before they'd take on anything that's as big of a threat to them as humans are.
[ The man starts to pace a little now he's no longer occupied with keeping the door closed. ]
You remember that-- [ He vaguely gestures with one muscled arm. ] -- you know, that light from the other day?
[ The odd Northern Lights, he means, the ones that turned on all electronics in town all of a sudden. ]
That wasn't just some normal natural phenomenon either, right? I bet this is just like that. Dunno if they're connected, though.
feel free to drop this if it's been too long! we can focus on their new thread instead?
[ Kieren's voice is flat, a little withering and his expression is a perfect match for his tone. Not normal wolves. They're stuck in the middle of the Canadian wilderness and there's not-normal wolves out there. Fucking wonderful.
His gaze flicks up at Bigby gestures and he nods in understanding. ]
The screaming psychedelic hell-trip? Yeah. [ He nods again, frowning a little in thought. Weird Auroras and not normal wolves. He's quiet, considering. Whatever it is, it's not good. ] It's... like nature's all out of whack, or something. The stuff that should make sense doesn't anymore.
[ Not unlike home, he supposes. With the dead rising. But that was the only thing that happened, and it was a one off. ]
... So what I'm getting— [ If he's got this right. ] is that we're extra fucked?
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