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

[sputnik]

Konstantin smiles too, waiting for her to turn around before he reaches to gently tuck her hair to the side and start fastening the necklace. He's slow, careful, and thoughtful as he reflects on what she'd just said.

"It will help. We can start saving it up once it grows, trying to preserve things. And it will surely alleviate some of these tensions in the community — knowing that efforts are being made to grow more food."

He nods reassuringly, even though she's not facing him, fingers trying to work the clasp of her necklace open.

"...Sorry. This thing is a little tricky. Or maybe it's simply been too long since I've put a necklace on a woman's neck," he gives a soft laugh.

[desperate_times_right]

“It's probably a little rusty. I fell in a lot of rivers back in India.” Definitely the most near drowning she's done on a single job.

“Is it really different, then? Being a celebrity in Russia, I mean. I'd think you'd have women throwing themselves at you all the time.”

[sputnik]

There's another laugh at that, quiet. It would be a lie to say that the mere word — celebrity — doesn't make him feel some pleasant warmth, something familiar that he tries to hold onto, still, knowing that it's— gone.

"I don't actually meet a lot of women. Mostly they watch me on the television." He almost has it, he thinks, trying to find the right places to hook the necklace into itself. What he doesn't know is that moving closer to Chloe like this will have Very Negative Consequences, in a few seconds.

But for the moment, he lets himself enjoy it a little. As odd as this entire thing is (he literally just watched her turn into a wolf and he's still kind of shook by it), there's something very nice about it, the attention he's getting from her. Konstantin lets himself lean into it, eyes sparkling with a pleased, teasing note that drips right into his voice. He hasn't had many opportunities to openly flirt with women since... it all happened, and maybe he needs it.

"Or they're shy around me. I have to say, it's refreshing to have a woman unafraid to strip right down before me." He chuckles again. "Am I the only one who's gotten to see your new gift like this?"

[desperate_times_right]

Chloe laughs, luxuriating in the attention. It's probably a coping mechanism for both of them, but that's fine.

“Like that, yeah. Other people have seen it, but you're the first one I've changed in front of. You seemed like you’d be cool about it.”

cw: angry worm.....

[sputnik]

There's someone else who isn't cool with it — specifically what came immediately after, aka the turning-into-a-wolf-thing. Konstantin's alien passenger hasn't exactly had the best experience with wolves, and the only reason it hadn't rebelled yet was because she hadn't actually barked, which is what it especially hates.

But now that the man's close to her, that faint smell is stronger, something that lingers on her in a way maybe Konstantin can't perceive too well, but the extremely sensitive alien inside of him can. He breathes her in and the creature writhes.

It happens just as he's finishing the clasp of her necklace, smiling, lingering close even as he takes a slight step back to give her room again. "I certainly can't say I have any complaints—"

And then he immediately buckles forwards with a hitch of pain, one hand pressed to his mouth while the other presses to his stomach.

[desperate_times_right]

The second he doubles over, Chloe is already on the move, grabbing a bucket at the corner of the kitchen.

“Do not get blood on my floor!”

She's never had her own house before! Cleaning is hard work!

“Are you okay? Is it like last time?”

[sputnik]

It's not a sensation that's new, by any means — but every time it happens, it takes him completely by surprise, unpleasant and jarring and painful. The thing's small when it's inside him, but it's still plenty big enough that he feels it, especially in such a small, tight organ as his stomach.

And when it writhes like that... Konstantin's gasping loudly, unable to suppress his kneejerk horror as he stumbles back from her a bit, wide-eyed.

"N-no, I don't think it's like that—" he shakes his head; this isn't... him about to vomit (blood or anything else). Hopefully.

"It's just... Hurts." He barely manages to get the words out before the thing squirms again, frustrated and upset and he cries out a little. "Shit!"

[desperate_times_right]

“Sit,” Chloe orders, pulling out a chair from the table. If he collapses they've both got problems. She puts the bucket near it even though he said he didn't need it.

“What's going on? Do you need water?”

She only knows the broad strokes of what's wrong with him so she can't even begin to guess what brought this on.

[sputnik]

He sits almost comically obediently, dropping into the chair at once, even if a demanding part of him knows he needs to get out of here as quickly as possible. But with the waves of nausea and ache, staying upright is a bad idea and he's liable to topple over soon enough anyway, so down Konstantin goes.

He keeps one hand against his stomach, swallowing back against an unpleasant slickness. Fuck, hopefully he doesn't actually throw up just from the nausea alone. His stomach revolts against the sensation of something wet and slimy squiggling around inside of it, and he shuts his eyes, internally begging the thing to stop and knowing it can't feel his thoughts anymore.

"Water might help, thank you." Thinking it might calm the thing down....

"I'm sorry. It's.... this infection. Sometimes it causes pain when it starts acting up."

[desperate_times_right]

Chloe fills a glass at the sink and thrusts it toward him. It really is awful that something that made him stronger at home is doing this here.

“Here. Sorry this place is fucking with you so much.”

[sputnik]

Quickly, Konstantin takes the glass and downs a sip. In his haste, maybe it's more of a solid swallow, a rush of cold down his throat that he hopes will stop the thing.

Well.

That doesn't happen.

The alien revolts, reacting to the sudden wave of cold water by writhing spastically around like an unearthed worm. Konstantin gasps loudly and drops the glass — which breaks and sends water everywhere. He jolts to his feet, barely able to see where he's going, vision dazed. One shoulder hits the wall; he's moving towards the front door, doubled over, one arm wrapped around his middle.

"Sorry— I need to leave—!"

And he's dry-heaving as he moves. Even now, some part of him is humiliated. This is extremely unattractive!

[desperate_times_right]

Chloe’s still in her socks after getting dressed post-wolf, so she can't run after him as fast as she wants because she needs to keep an eye on the broken glass.

“Hey!” she calls after him, shuffling through the water and glass in her now-wet socks. “Hey! You won't make it home like that!”

[sputnik]

There's a stab of guilt among everything else — he's left a mess in her home, is leaving her with a mess, but any second now this thing could send him right into seizure and he does not want to be around Chloe when that happens. There's a variety of reasons for that, not all of them as selfless as he'd like to admit (of course the main concern is it hurting her, but there's also the fact that he likes the way she looks at him and doesn't want it to change.)

"It's okay! I'll be fine, I'll just— I'll go catch my breath."

As he's literally barely able to speak because of how severely he's dry-heaving. He waves to her over his shoulder, some final attempt to be normal and light-hearted... before he's rounding the corner of her home as quickly as he can to run away, palm slapped to its side for support and then pushing himself back up to stagger off.