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

“It's not quite so bad as all that!” Yes, she had felt as if she were sacrificing her life when she had sailed away to be married, but she's still alive, isn't she?

“It's perhaps more for my sake than hers,” Randvi clarifies. “She seems self-sufficient, but I do worry about her.”

Konstantin gives a bright, genuinely amused laugh. "I suppose there could be worse things than marriage, but it's hard to think of any!" He's teasing, but also... this man literally ran away to outer space to avoid commitment.

"No, I understand. All of the young ones here seem a bit like that, but I find myself worrying all the same. Kieren Walker's still living alone, and... I think about it more than I probably have a right to. It's just that so much goes wrong, in this place."

Randvi laughs, too. “It's too bad. I think you would make someone a fine husband.”

He’s kind and attentive, and yes he might leave the planet on occasion, but her own husband has been away for over three of the five years they've been married.

His next statement does herald the return of her more sombre expression. “Kieren Walker. I'm worried about him, but a bit frightened of him as well in my current state. Have you spoken with him?”

"Ah — maybe once. I'm too old now. Greying." He smiles, but it's sobering too, playful ease fading into a soft frown.

"Frightened of him — You.... saw him? You saw what happened to the woman?" There's no other way to say it. The mental image hasn't left his own mind, though admittedly he's not so much afraid of Kieren as of what he represents. Watching him tear into that poor woman was... familiar. He doesn't know that Kieren revealed his "crime" to the public during the town meeting.

His frown deepens, concern pooling in all over again. "I haven't been able to reach him in a while. I went to his home looking, but... he's not there."

Randvi is certain that there isn't an age limit on that for men the way there is for women in any time period, but before she can call him on it, Kostya brings up a more serious issue.

“I did not see it myself - when the fighting got more severe I hid at home. The people here held a sort of mass tribunal for killers afterward, and the way he spoke of it concerned me. In multiple ways. He's disappeared?”

He had sounded like he wanted someone to kill him.

"Wait — Kieren told about what happened, during the town meeting?" Alarm registers in his chest, tight and unpleasant. "I didn't know. Vasya and I didn't go."

....This isn't good. He's been deeply concerned about any potential consequences for the kid, and now... it sounds like the whole town might know what he'd done?

He runs a hand up over his face, expression grim, worried.

"I can't find him anywhere. I thought I would look around some more while I was out today." Beat. "What... exactly did he reveal? At this town meeting?"

“I'm not certain if 'reveal' is the right word,” Randvi says, concerned anew. “It sounds as if it happened quite publicly.”

She had heard whispers from the others, but that wasn't the question.

“He said that he’d killed her - Simone - and that he is abnormal somehow and had killed before this place. That he had not wished to do it here. Cornelius Hickey implied that Kieren had eaten her, or part of her at least, and that was a defence!”

And considering Cornelius Hickey’s own crime, perhaps he thought it was.

“I don't know whether to be worried that someone killed him or irritated that he's avoiding the labour I suggested for everyone who did harm.”

He can only imagine how easily Kieren would admit to such a thing, and to put himself right on blast for it. The poor kid's been nothing but apologetic about his situation, and clearly couldn't think worse of himself about it. And if the whole town heard about this... it's a spotlight right on him.

"Someone might have hurt him. Or taken him somewhere," Konstantin realises, eyes tight, voice tighter. "They might be keeping him locked away. Shit."

He looks up, glances quickly around for a moment. He only truly trusts less than a handful of people here.

"I have to find him. Did he say... anything else, during this... this tribunal? Did he mention anyone else here, or... did anyone seem especially upset with him?" He has no idea where to find him. No idea who could be holding him, or who might have hurt him.

“Emotions were high at the tribunal, but not especially about him. The only people who spoke of him did so in his defence.” Randvi is frustrated with the way people had reacted to the vote, but that was entirely directed at one person who was not Kieren Walker.

“If someone were to be harmed as a result of what happened there, I would not expect it to be him. At least not as the first victim.” She sighs, frustrated. “It seems more likely to me that whatever this is, he did it to himself.”

That's something of a relief, even if just slightly; it doesn't sound like there's going to be a town-wide witch hunt for the poor kid. ....But if even just one person decided to take matters into their own hands....

Though what Randvi says next gives Konstantin pause, and he's staring at her, something in his eyes shifting. The intensity hitches, wavers, and softens towards something wounded for a few long moments.

He remembers the lines of scar tissue marring Kieren's wrists, evidence of— some very specific thing, some very specific ending, or at least the very severe attempt at one (is that why he's... the way he is now? Is that how he'd died? Konstantin hadn't asked, he'd left the room to give Kieren privacy while Vasiliy was stitching him back up after that gunshot wound, but he never stopped thinking about it.)

"...He could have. Could be. Punishing himself." ...Or wanting to die. Thinking it's the better option after a horrible thing like that — the only option. Konstantin knows what that's like.

"He could need help. Could be in a bad way. He's— sick." His brow knits, tight, feeling more desperate than he likes to ever let himself feel. But Kieren's just a kid. Just a fucking kid, who's also what a lot of people here are probably going to think of as monster, now. It hurts in a deep, deep way.

"Could you tell me who else was at the meeting? Some of their names?"

It's almost unfathomable to Randvi that someone trying to punish themselves in that way would disappear into the forest rather than flinging themselves into combat more fiercely than ever. However, she remembers being haunted by the ghost of herself, walking away into the forest with no expectation of returning.

“I think the two of you were some of the only ones who did not attend. The Saxons were trying to twist the proceedings into a way to punish only Cornelius Hickey, and the others got caught up in it. That is how it felt to me.”

She's still convinced that they would have killed him if others hadn't intervened.

“Many of the accused seemed to wish to punish themselves, so I hope that some of them are at least helping to honour the dead.”

They mostly bury in the manner of the Saxons, she thinks.

It's alarming to hear that Kieren is sick, especially in that tone. Does he also have a creature inside him? Is this what Konstantin has been afraid of doing?

“Ruby, the younger Edward, and Cornelius Hickey spoke in his defence specifically. Others spoke in defence of the group. As I said, no one spoke against him, not even witnesses.”

The Saxons.... Konstantin listens intently, even if he has no idea who any of these people are. After a moment of serious thought, he looks back up to her and nods. She's given him some names — Ruby, the younger Edward (there must be two...), Cornelius Hickey. People he might be able to ask about Kieren. People who might know if he's all right now.

"This is all good to know. Thank you, Randvi. I'll see what I can do to help him."

A beat, remembering her mentioned fear about the boy, in her current condition. ...She wouldn't be able to run if she needed to.

"It might be best to be careful, going out alone. Until I find him, see how he... is. He wouldn't want to hurt anyone again, but it would be out of his control. Were you heading home? Can I walk you back?"

It's a bit alarming that he’s so worried. Sometimes Randvi doesn't understand anything at all.

“All right. This boy, is he…” Lalo had called them something, but she had been too panicked to recall it now. “Is he draugr? Dead?”

He's wary to divulge anything about the boy's condition — he's been worried what might happen if the wrong people learn about him, but... it sounds like the cat's out of the bag regardless, and he knows he can trust Randvi with things like supernatural secrets.

"He's... partially alive. That's how he explained it to me. He's like me, in that something... happened to him before here. It isn't because of this place."

He adjusts the pack at his shoulder as he walks, slowly.

"But I think this place makes what's wrong with him... worse, like for me. Unpredictable."

It makes sense. Draugr are typically strong, and the boy does seem weakened by this place.

“I see. And he was not prepared for the shortage as you were.”

If he couldn't eat the pre-packaged food they had been serving at the hall it would have been difficult to help him.

"I think so. What he has to feed on.... It's very similar to what I need for.. the thing." The parasite. Konstantin's jaw tightens with a frown as he lowers his voice. There's no one else around, but he's still cautious.

"It's been needing more than what I'm able to give it. And with the wildlife shortage... maybe I very easily could have ended up like Kieren. I kept thinking that, after I... saw him.

....I can't think of him as a monster. Maybe that makes me a hypocrite, but... it's not his fault."

Randvi thinks the discretion is prudent, particularly with the way they've all been set against one another after the trial.

“I wish… I understand why he would want to keep it to himself, but I wish we had known. We were rationing the rabbits, we could have helped him.”

God, it's so familiar. All of it. Konstantin sucks the inside of a cheek for a moment as he walks, considering his words.

"Maybe he was just... so afraid. To be looked at like something frightening, or... what might be done to him." He inhales through his nostrils, exhales through his mouth with a loud sigh.

"I worry he might be subjected to medical experiments. There seems to be an oddly high number of doctors in this place."

“Sveta would never,” Randvi says with a vehemence that she would never use at home regarding a woman that she cares for the way that she cares for this one, out of fear of dishonouring her husband.

“I understand why he was afraid, but we could have -! That woman did not need to die.”

He's a little surprised by the reaction — he hadn't realised just how close they must be. Or perhaps it's to be expected, given Svetlana helped Randvi through such a horrific ordeal, but either way, his expression softens for a moment.

"No, I trust Svetlana. She would never," he agrees. "But I'm not sure about the others. I don't know them. Only Vasya." Who isn't really a doctor, but someone he does rely on for medical assistance.

"...I know. You're right, it's... it could have maybe been prevented." It's a huge source of his own guilt. He remembers Bigby Wolf telling him that it's better to know such truths about people here, so that help can be provided for them.

"When I find him again, I promise, I'll do everything I can to help make sure it doesn't happen again."

“Among my people, only women are healers. I am sure these men are adequate, but it is a relief to have a woman to help me.”

There is so much here that she wishes she understood better, or could control.

“I don't wish to harm him, but I do fear that the impulse that drove him away is one that enabled this harm. He owes it to Simone to do better now.”

"I'm glad that you've made connection with her. Svetlana is truly a blessing here. She's very kind, and determined." He smiles fondly. "She's even offered to help me, as well."

A task he has yet to truly take the young doctor up on, with everything that's been going on. But his smile eases back into a thoughtful frown. God, he hopes the poor kid is able to come back at all. And if he does... to come back to all of this, with the weight of what he'd done... it's a horror Konstantin knows all too-well.

"Simone." He repeats the name quietly, somber. He hadn't known the woman and this, too, is an odd guilt. "How many... people died? Have they all been buried?"

The one advantage of the scarring on Randvi’s face is that she doesn't flush quite as obviously as she used to. A connection, indeed.

“That's good to hear. She will be discreet.”

The rest of it has still not become less terrible in her mind. “Seven confirmed dead: Simone Vitucci, Partick Carlson, Max Ramirez, Alan Lawrence, John Rusnak, Elias Toufexis, and Mikel Prather. Heartman, of illness in the days after. Several others missing. All confirmed dead have been honoured according to their wishes.”

Not all buried: Heartman had asked for a pyre.

Seven. Konstantin listens to the names listed, and he doesn't know any of them — but he frowns deeply for a long few moments, sobered. And some are missing...

"I'll help look for the ones who are missing. Maybe they're still alive."

The sun's back out, the environment seems.. back to normal, at least. They could still be out there, injured, unable to make it back.

"...This is truly horrible. I don't know how this community can really recover from such an incident." And it could happen again, someday.

“The aurora has not taken anyone in some time. Perhaps it is gorging itself now.” Or perhaps the missing do not wish to be found, like Kieren Walker. It's unlikely, but they can hope.

“It may surprise you what people can learn to live with.” Many of the young warriors she commands at home had cut their battle teeth on the people of her natal clan. Her own husband had killed her uncle in battle and she can sing the song about it without flinching.

“I am still trying to learn why some people were affected so much more than others. Perhaps we can prevent it from happening like that again.”

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cw cannibalism mention

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cw: introspection about suicide / suicidal themes

cw: introspection about suicide / suicidal themes

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