singillatim | there'll be oats in the water

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there'll be oats in the water

JULY 2024 EVENT

PROMPT ONE — THE AURORA: REDUX: A storm finally arrives, and with it — Enola extends her hand to help the Interlopers once more, granting them new abilities.

PROMPT TWO — PENSIVE LOOKOUT: With the Forest Talker efforts focused on sabotaging hunting efforts, Interlopers can attempt to explore the Pensive Lookout Tower, where they can uncover secrets from the diary of Sam Bouchard — the former firewatch worker of the summer of 2014.

PROMPT THREE — A PEEK INSIDE: A group of Interlopers get their hands on one of the Forest Talkers in search of answers — and get a little more than they bargained for.

THE AURORA: REDUX

WHEN: Mid-month, for three days.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural/extreme weather; lightning storms; potentially disturbing dreams; dreams of being trapped in ice; dreams of animal death; dreams of the death of loved ones.

July brings warmer weather. The fog has lifted, and the daylight returned — but an odd kind of pressure lingers in the air, the kind that feels similar with oncoming storms but something still feels off about it all. Measurements and readings are erratic, with them often making little sense. It’s hard to predict just what might be coming, but sure enough something is coming.

Hold on a little longer, Enola told you. A storm is coming.

It comes quickly, the gathering of storm clouds. At first, it looks as if a kind of snowstorm is moving in, but there’s something else at play here. Within the grey, cloudy skies, there is a tell-tale sound of an Aurora mixed within those clouds.

And with it, in amongst the dark, the swirling colours. Greens, pinks and purples weaving through the clouds, almost mesmerising to watch. The air is alive with sound: static noise, cracks and pops: a storm and the Aurora mixed into one. For those who’ve been here long enough, it’s a worrying, unnerving sight. The storm rumbles with the low roar of distant thunder, growing ever closer. The electronics of the world begin to come alive, and in the static of it all — you begin to hear Enola’s voice even clearer than before.

After so much darkness, now there is so much light. A lightning storm — aurora colours mingling with the grey clouds, punctured with crackles of lightning. Something powerful and strange — flash forking across the skies, followed by booms of thunder.

The storm lasts three days, and even though her voice is soft — you hear it over all the noise, nestled gently in your ear.

“You're still here. It means something. This isn’t the end, I refuse to let it be the end. It can’t win. You won’t go into the Dark.” Enola tells you. ”I will make you more than what you are, more than what was stolen from you. This place will not be your end. I have to try. We have to try. Together. I showed some of you, once. I’ll show you again.”

She tells you to sleep. For some, they recognise this and realise what may end up happening. For others it feels like going out on a limb. But you sleep, and perhaps a dream may come to you.

COLD FUSION: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape. You dream of a great hall of ice: as if it had been carved into some great ridge of it. You walk through it, marvelling at the beauty of it — a blue gloom, echoing with each of your footsteps. But as you take one particular step, the ground cracks and collapses beneath you, sending you into dark, frozen waters. In seconds, the water freezes around you, encompassing you in thick ice, your entire body trapped within it. The coldness burns you, and you are stuck there — frozen in agony. The pain is immeasurable, your entire body crushed and searing from the ice. There is no escape, no reprieve.

A voice speaks to you, perhaps it is the voice of a stranger, perhaps it is the voice of someone you know: Do you know how you survive the cold?’ They ask you. You do not know, and you wait for the answer: ‘You become colder than it.

Your eyes close. You believe those words, you do. You must become colder than the cold itself. And so you will. Your breathing slows, your heart slows and the cold… it stops hurting, it doesn’t burn. The ice around you begins the crack.

When you awaken the first thing you realise is despite the temperature, you are completely cosy and warmed. You do not feel the slightest chill. It is perhaps only once you are around other than you truly notice the difference to you — you are cold to the touch, lacking the heat you once had. An understanding comes: you are at one with the cold, it will not beat you, it will not cause you agony. Winter is at peace within you: perfect Cold Fusion.

MOON TOUCHED: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape. You dream of running through the silent woods at night. The moon is full above you, the air is calm and still. Hunger draws you forward, everything is so sharp and vivid in your senses, even in this dreamscape. You hear the crispness of the snow beneath your feet, smell the scent of the pines on the air, feel how warm you are against the coldness around you.

The snuffling of a rabbit catches your attention, and you swiftly leap after it, jaws opening and closing around its neck as you capture it. You bite down hard, feeling the crunch of its bones as they break, the sweet coppery taste of blood filling your mouth and nose. You lift your head towards the stars, blood on your tongue. You realise you are not a person at all, but a beast on all fours: a wolf, content and filling your belly with meat.

You wonder, for a brief moment: were you ever a person at all?

You do not know the answer to the question. You do not seem to worry about such a thing but there’s a flash of warning on the air. Something you cannot quite place, but you know that you should not forget it.

When you awaken, you feel… different, somehow. Everything seems a little sharper, as if the world around you had been dull, or behind some pane of frosted glass. With it comes a strange balance of calmness and chaos, tameness and wildness, fear and bravery. You find yourself looking for the moon in the skies and when you finally find it, it hits you — this is what it means to be Moon Touched.

INTERLOPER’S SACRIFICE: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape and then fade into nothing. You dream of kneeling in a darkened, charred wood. You are not alone. In this dreamscape, you dream of a loss, or a time you have never felt more helpless in your life. Perhaps it is when someone you knew died before you, or you stood as someone was sick and injured and you were unable to do a thing. As you kneel, they are there with you: sick or dying or even dead in your arms. You cannot do anything but hold them, and the helplessness is overwhelming.

You look up and a woman in furs stands before you, her expression solemn. Enola herself. There are tears in her eyes, as if she shares the very pain you do: the loss, the grief, the hopelessness, the powerlessness. She approaches you and lowers herself to kneel in front of you and your companion, bracing your shoulders for a long, lingering moment. There are no words, none from neither of you.

Enola shifts slightly, leans forwards. She kisses your forehead, much like when a parent kisses their child: sweet and tender.

And then you feel it, as if you are set alight: an agonising pain that encompasses you whole — so painful you cannot even open your mouth to scream. You feel yourself growing weak, the corners of your vision blurring into black. It feels as if you might die from the pain, and you want for it to stop but it doesn’t.

Enola pulls away and you gasp, slumping in exhaustion, but still alive, somehow. You stare at her, sweating and clamouring for breath, and she offers you a sad smile. Never again. you feel the words inside of you. This time, it will be different. Better.

When you awaken, you can still feel the kiss upon your forehead — enough to make your fingers reach up to touch it, your entire body tingling a little. A small voice in the back of your mind whispers, reminding you as you find yourself looking down at your hands: never again. Never again, you tell yourself and the comprehension comes to you: you have chosen. This is what it means to be: this is your sacrifice. The Interloper’s Sacrifice.

NOTHING: The colours of the Aurora dance around you in your dreamscape, but only for a moment. The edges of your vision begin the blur with black, slowly closing in until everything goes dark and you fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. You awaken, and although you feel rested, as if the dreamless darkness has helped you feel a little more ready to take on the day — nothing else about you has changed.

PENSIVE LOOKOUT

WHEN: The month of July.
WHERE: Pensive Lookout Tower, Lakeside.
CONTENT WARNINGS: themes of survival; possible fall injuries/treacherous climbs; themes of terror; themes of diminished sanity; themes of starvation.

The Old Hunting Lodge is located in the southern-most area of Lakeside, and its surrounding area is generally considered no-go territory with the presence of the Forest Talkers. As June turned into July, the Forest Talker’s presence in the wilds of Lakeside has begun to grow again — but their efforts appear to be focused on sabotaging the efforts of Interlopers, Methuselah and Young Bill in hunting fresh game. If anything, it could mean that with attentions drawn away — perhaps the braver sorts of the Interlopers can explore the area a little more fully.

There’s little in terms of buildings of interest in this area. The wilderness is thick and deep here. Perhaps the odd ransacked cabin once belonging to a local may be stumbled across — its contents picked clean, presumably by the Forest Talkers. Many of these buildings will be completely inhabitable due to the damage done — with some cabins being razed to the ground.

However, on higher ground, with a good hike to access it, stands a watch tower.

These lookout towers could mean a number of things: a chance to access supplies that may have otherwise been forgotten about due to the hike to get up there, a better view of the surrounding area, and the possibility of a radio — given the sign of a radio transmitter that can be found blinking a feeble red on Aurora nights.

With the snow on the ground it’s a little more treacherous, but given the circumstances, anything’s worth a shot, right? Those who attempt the hike may fall foul to slips and trips along the steep slow to reach the tower, and should take care in the ascent. Even with the warmth of July, it’s difficult. One might hope this might make the place a decent outpost, if you think about it. Somewhere hard to reach, and with such a vantage point.

Reaching the tower and climbing it to its interior will it largely intact but a mess. Someone has lived here for some time. Interlopers will find no food here, but some useful tools that belonged to the lookout: binoculars, maps, a compass, an alidade. There is even a radio sat upon a desk, and with it — a journal.

The journal, Interlopers will find, belonged to a man named Sam Bouchard — the firewatcher for the season during the previous year, detailing the months of his arrival and ending in November last year. It is unknown what happened to Sam, but his journal will perhaps offer some insight and even some information.

A PEEK INSIDE

WHEN: The month of July.
WHERE: The Gas Station, Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: themes of kidnapping; imprisonment; self-starvation; blood/minor injuries; psychological torment, supernatural abilities.

The Forest Talkers have a long history in the Northern Territories, long before Interlopers started arriving in Milton. Champions of nature, they have sought to put an end to the industries and tourism-related expansions in the Lakeside area, first peacefully and then… not-so-peacefully. But with the events known as the ‘The Flare’ last year, Forest Talkers have been… acting peculiarly, disturbingly, aggressively.

There are plenty of questions to be asked. But the Forest Talkers are difficult to communicate with. Previous attempts have ended up in aggression or being ignored entirely. And now, even with the events of the previous month coming to an end — game remains difficult to find, and Forest Talkers are keen on sabotaging any attempts of hunting made by Interlopers, Young Bill or Methuselah. And more importantly: what is the yawning grave?

It starts as mutterings between tired and disgruntled Interlopers. They need answers, and there’s got to be a way in trying to get some. They’re hungry and exhausted and so many of their numbers are now dead. Those mutterings grow, and soon enough a plan is put into place. A small group of Interlopers embark into Lakeside and wait.

Soon enough, it bears fruit. A man is captured, bound and blindfolded — quietly and secretly brought back to Milton to be held up in the unused Gas Station to be questioned. It is not the leader, but surely one of them is better than no one at all. He is injured, but not enough to kill him. It will prove challenging in trying to get answers out of him, but soon enough the Interlopers will get him to talk.

News of the Forest Talker in their midst will inevitably spread, as most things do in small communities. Secrets are hard to guard. It won’t be just those behind the kidnapping who might end up coming across the man being held in the Gas Station.

Anyone who goes to investigate will find the man sat on the floor in quiet contemplation. Attempts of conversation will be met with long, silent stares — holding your gaze for an uncomfortably long time. He will spurn any gestures of kindness: spit on the floor at Interloper’s feet, refuse any food offered — as if the man has chosen to starve himself in protest. He says nothing, at first.

But after some time, he will look into an Interloper’s eyes and utter something. A word. A phrase. It may be a name, or a place. It may be a specific thing an Interloper has read, or been spoken to by someone. Something that holds meaning to the Interloper. It may be the name of a loved one from home, or the last words ever spoken to you by a friend. Something the man shouldn’t know.

Whatever it is that he speaks to you, it is not something that will fill you with hope or fondness to remember — but quite the opposite. A reminder of something painful, of a loss, or some other thing that caused you misery. As if he had reached right inside your mind and plucked some painful part of your past from you and spoken it to the wind.

The Forest Talker smiles, and will say nothing else. The damage has already been done.

FAQs

THE AURORA: REDUX

1. The next three Aurora Feats are unlocked! Please see the following page for more information.

2. Aurora Feats are completely optional.

3. Interlopers will only receive ONE Aurora Feat. The only time this is available is this month. After July, players will have to wait for the next Feat round for another chance at an Aurora Feat.

4. This Aurora/storm will last a full three days, darkening the skies almost to night.

PENSIVE LOOKOUT

1. Interlopers who dwell in the lookout for the next Aurora will find the radio works, albeit poorly. They will be able to pick up the same broken morse code message.

2. There are no signs of blood/injury that befell Sam in the lookout. It appears he made good on what he wrote on in his journal and attempted to leave to get to Silverpoint.

A PEEK INSIDE

1. While only a small number was involved in the kidnapping itself, anyone can discover the fact there's a Forest Talker being held in Milton.

2. In terms of appearance, the Forest Talker is very much your typical average white guy. Bearded, weathered by the cold, someone who's lived several years without much in the way of comforts or luxuries.

PLOTTING POST

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Of course." She nods, deciding not to press further.

She shifts, searching for the right words to say. "It was... terrifying, yet beautiful. Something I've never seen before. Instinct told me to take shelter, but I wanted to see it for myself. The colorful lights that weaved through - it was fascinating in it's own way."

Hornet wrings her hands together in thought. "It was not as though something called to me to seek out the storm." She clarifies. "This place - it is nothing like where I am from. I simply had to see for myself what it was like."

Randvi nods. It's difficult to imagine never having seen a storm, but there are many mundane things here that fascinate her as well.

“We have aurora - the colours - where I come from, but not quite so severe, and without the attendant effects. Have you had a chance yet to see the moon?”

"Moon?" The word is foreign to her. If she has, she wouldn't know what name to give it. "I am not sure. There are still many things I am learning. What is the moon?"

She will learn things in time. Her skills would grow, and she will survive.

“It is the biggest light in the sky at night. An analogue to the sun in daytime. The last time we spoke, the fog was too thick to allow you to see it.”

It would be exciting, Randvi thinks, to see the moon for the first time.

She has seen the lights in the sky now that the fog had cleared. It was a marvel, stunning her as she stared at the night sky with awe and wonder. She was learning new things once more when she felt she had learned all there was to know -- and it was thrilling in that way.

"Ah, yes. Then I have seen the moon. It is a strange and beautiful thing." She admits with a nod. "I am not used to seeing so much light above that is not from a lumafly lantern."

“Do you typically live underground?” It's hard to imagine never seeing a light in the sky.

"Yes." Few bugs have ventured above and returned to tell a tale, or so she's been told. She does not truly know. "Hallownest is located beneath the ground with the village of Dirtmouth and the Howling Cliffs being the closest thing to a surface I have been."

She has defended the dying kingdom from all manner of bug who wish to plunder it's history but never ventured beyond it.

"The novelty of the sky has not worn off." She admits. Seeing the stars, the moon, the sun -- the changes between night and day... it was fascinating and awe-inspiring. She will get used to it, in time, but for now she will continue to be amazed by it.

“I cannot imagine it would.” Fortunate for both of them that she doesn't turn to stone in sunlight like a dwarf. “There are many unfamiliar things to me here as well and even after all this time they draw my interest.”

The sky is even better because it does not require electricity to work.

“Howling Cliffs is quite a name. Is it very windy there?”

"It can make for a dangerous thing." She cautions with a sigh. "Yet, I cannot bring myself to stop looking, or stop learning."

She pauses, thinking about her question.

"Yes." Though she could not explain the wind when they were underground. It must connect to the surface at some point, but where? She wished she knew the answer. "The wind makes such a noise. I know not of bug nor beast that make it."

“I do not imagine you could. Learning is part of being alive.” Not being given the room to grow is entirely too stifling.

Randvi tries to imagine these Howling Cliffs. What a sound they must make! “It sounds incredible. I wish that I could see all of the places that people here come from.”

"Hallownest is--" Wait. "Was a beautiful kingdom." She admits with a sad fondness. "I do agree with you. I would like to hear more of where people are from. There must be some similarities."

Maybe they would not be as bleak as her own.

Ah. That ache is something that Randvi is familiar enough with, in her own way. She won't pry.

“At first I believed that we were all from Midgard in different times, but I no longer think that is the case.”

"Ah, yes, if there were more bugs, I might have thought the same." Unfortunately, they were (mostly) humans in Milton. "Do you miss Midgard, then?"

She missed Deepnest more than she missed Hallownest admittedly, but it was an ache all the same.

“Sometimes. I was not always happy there, but things were more predictable.” This place seems to be in a constant state of upheaval.

"I find the same to be true with my thoughts of Hallownest." She admits, shaking her head. "This place is... constantly changing." A pause. "And it is nice to be able to talk to others."

Admitting that has not been easy, but she is truly grateful that her voice does not go unheard. While the Knight listened, they never spoke back and she dared not listen to the Radiance as it called to her, least she succumb to it's rage.

Randvi had been surrounded by people in Ravensthorpe who all seemed to want something from her, and she had still been desperately lonely. It isn't quite the same, but she can relate.

"There were not many others in Hallownest?"

She falls silent, if only for a moment. Considering her words as she thinks of the people of Hallownest. It was vibrant, once, she thinks and wonders how exactly to explain what befell the kingdom without so many words.

"Yes and no." She finally says. "Yes, there were many bugs in Hallownest of all backgrounds. No...as they had lost their minds to infection." She's not sure if she wants to elaborate, leaving it there for now. If Randvi asks, she may explain but for now she leaves it there.

"Ah," Randvi sighs. It's bad enough to be alone, an outsider, but how horrible to possibly be the last of your kind. It brings to mind the decimation of the Bear Clan, and even there two had survived. "I'm sorry, Hornet."

She nods, but admitting she had lost her people was almost relieving. A weight on her shoulders lessened but she also knew nothing else for centuries.

"I am fine. Before I arrived here, we may have stopped the infection, prevented it from ravaging the kingdom further." She shakes her head. "I know not the outcome. I woke up in the snow before I was able to investigate."

She does remember the Knight's shell, broken and lying in the Hollow Knight's chamber. Her strange sibling risked their life to save a kingdom that turned its back on them long ago, for nothing more than to do the right thing.

“I hope, then, that you can return to a home that is healing.” Hornet sounds like a true hero, fighting alongside others to stop something so horrible.

"Thank you, Randvi." She is thankful. She longed for home, the ache in her chest hasn't ceased since her arrival. "I hope we all find our way back, eventually."

“Yes, I do as well.” Randvi sighs. “It frightens me. Even if we get off of this island, we are still centuries into my future. Can I ever get home?”

"If we are to leave, I would hope it would be back to our homes. Though I do wonder what that would look like."

This strange place that they've woken up in, how could they get back home? It's not like she could find a way underground and find Hallownest. Would whatever brought them here let them go?

“We still do not know why we were taken or who took us, though I think it would be safe to hazard that it was not the Darkwalker.” It seems perpetually unhappy about it.

“I would prefer to be returned home, but if we escape it might be a different situation.”

"Has anyone asked Enola?" She seemed benevolent enough to answer questions though she didn't seem easy to find. "If not the Darkwalker, then what?"

Who has brought them here was a question constantly on her mind.

"If we escape..." Rather than returned. That is an interesting line of thinking.

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