there'll be oats in the water

[singmod]

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

Comments

[maintiensledroit]

[ It's a relief to have Diefenbaker beside him again. The wolf is tired from his time spent with the litter of pups, doing his best to teach them the skills they need to survive and thrive even in this harsh climate, but he keeps pace beside Fraser, even venturing ahead to check along the path.

It's Dief who first comes across the other man, venturing in the same direction. Fraser knows him by name and by sight, although they haven't yet had much opportunity to speak: John Irving, another of the officers who had shipped aboard the doomed Terror in the Franklin expedition. Fraser, following Diefenbaker along the path, lifts his hand in greeting as Dief trots forward to investigate the man they've come across. ]

It's Lieutenant Irving, isn't it?

[ He himself is not in uniform, aside from the Stetson he always wears, but he can easily recognize the greatcoat of the British Discovery service. ]

Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police. This is Diefenbaker.

It appears we're headed the same direction... to those towers, is that right?

[extramuralise]

[ The wolf's sudden approach is enough to alarm Irving into an brief state of prey animal-like stillness as soon as he becomes aware of its proximity to him, unable to relax even after he notices that it's being accompanied by a man. This isn't even the first example of people keeping seemingly tame wolves as their companions that he's encountered so far, either (a rather troubling observation nearly in itself, given how it suggests further that this will also not likely be the last example he should expect to see around these parts), but he's yet to be truly convinced that such vicious creatures ever can be rehabilitated so cleanly into something resembling domestication.

There's a reason, after all, for why dogs had to become a separate animal altogether.

Still, Irving hesitantly raises his own hand to return the greeting, not quite smiling at the man who approaches him now with brisk and curious purpose, but pursing his lips into as reasonable an approximation of one as he can manage. ]

Yes, that's right— Lieutenant John Irving.

[ He blinks, looking at Fraser with quiet appraisal. Obviously not a man whom Irving has met before this moment, but he does know of Fraser, has seen the man out and about every so often. Milton just isn't a very large place, where even strange faces don't take long to become familiar at a distance.

Irving offers out his hand, giving Fraser a firm nod in respect of his title. ]

Happy to finally be meeting you, Constable Fraser. Indeed, that is precisely where I'm headed.

[ His smile even sharpens just a bit around the corners at the thought of having some actual company for the excruciatingly long hike towards Lakeside, although his lips otherwise remain pinched with vague tension like they've been stitched together— not at all in response to Fraser himself, however, but simply because he's already growing uncomfortable in the cold, not to mention increasingly concerned that the wolf will somehow be able to smell his anxiety with it.

Raising his eyes back up to Fraser's, Irving nods once to indicate Diefenbaker, keeping the gesture to a minimum. ]

So, has he... been with you very long, then?

[maintiensledroit]

Oh yes, years.

[ He says it with an offhandedness that may either be reassuring or unsettling, depending on how prone to panic the listener might be, or perhaps on how much they appreciate being in the company of an only semi-domesticated wild animal. For his part, Diefenbaker sits down a few meters away, his unblinking gaze fixed on Irving. It's a particularly bad habit he'd picked up in Chicago, where it usually resulted in an unnerved police officer giving him a piece of whatever it was he'd been eating, and Fraser would correct it if he weren't busy glancing along their path toward the tower that can just be seen.

Ignoring Dief, he reaches for an interior pocket of his coat and retrieves a small spyglass, through which he studies their destination. ]

With a good pace, we should reach it before mid-afternoon and be back down in time to camp for the night.

[ Satisfied, he collapses the glass and stows it away once more before his glance finally falls on Diefenbaker. Fraser's expression flattens, slightly, turning faintly exasperated. ]

Diefenbaker. It isn't polite to stare.

[ He directs an apologetic look toward the other man, his shoulders lifting and falling with a sigh. ]

I'm sorry about him. He's perfectly aware that most people don't like being stared at by a wolf. I think he does it on purpose.

[extramuralise]

H-how... very curious, [ Irving allows, finding it the most neutral response he can think of. ] I've never known any men to keep wolves as companions... although there was a girl here, I believe.

[ Sansa Stark, but he can't seem to recall her name just now... it's been quite a while. ]

Likely you two must already know each other.

[ Wow, bold assumption there, Irving! Although perhaps one reasonable enough, given the common denominators involved...

Fraser's offhandedness is reassuring in only the most shallow sense of the term, because surely a man with a wolf ought to sound more like, well, a man with a wolf, as opposed to say, a cute little Capuchin monkey, for which some amount of offhandedness feels much more reasonable. Half-wild though they may (or may not!) forever be at heart, such creatures are surely far too small to be any more dangerous than the average toddler or common housecat... though granted, Irving's views on keeping exotic animals as housepets may be just a touch antiquated.

Irving tensely avoids making eye contact with the beast, although he's soon distracted by Fraser withdrawing a spyglass from his jacket. He pulls out his own in response, confirming the distance with a brisk nod despite his comparative lack of actual tracking or wilderness knowledge.

He collapses his spyglass back upon itself with a sharp clack, looking over to Fraser again. ]

A shame that there'll not likely be any avoiding having to make camp, given the hour, [ he does know at least that much. Math is where he's a viking! ] But, no matter— we'd best be on our way, then.

[ As Irving is tucking his spyglass away again, he happens to glance back at Diefenbaker and is therefore startled anew by the sheer intensity of the wolf's unfaltering gaze, despite knowing full well that it remained upon him. ]

'On purpose?' [ He tries not to look or sound too alarmed. ] Er... and why do you suppose that is, exactly?