it must be that old evil spirit

[singmod]

SEPTEMBER 2024 EVENT

PROMPT ONE — PAINFUL REMINDERS: An Aurora briefly connects the Interlopers to their homeworlds, and with it are able to receive items from home — but these ones will bring no comfort to them.

PROMPT TWO — THE ENEMY WITHIN: Strange and familiar occurrences begin in Milton and Lakeside, growing in frequency and danger for the Interlopers. Who can truly be trusted among their numbers?

PROMPT THREE — BAD BLOOD: The Forest Fighters finally come to Milton, and with it: they bring the yawning grave.

PAINFUL REMINDERS

WHEN: 5th - 9th of September.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: potentially upsetting themes; themes of loneliness/isolation.

For many, the sight of the Aurora is now one they have become used to. There have been plenty of them over the year that has passed since the Interlopers first came to the Northern Territories. Often, they have been a sign of great danger, with plenty of unsettling and unnatural things happening when the skies light up. Other times they have been the herald of aid — a link between Interlopers and Enola, gifting them with abilities to help them survive in this world. There is no real knowing what kind of force the Aurora is, truly. And there is a tension that holds amongst the Interlopers as the day turns to night and there is the soft sound that grows louder.

The ethereal, high-pitched chorus of sounds, is difficult to place. Perhaps it sounds like voices, or discordant strings. And with it, the low-drone of electrical buzz — punctuated with the echoing pops and sharp cracks. The sky is alive with sound, and with it comes the swirling streaking of colour against the inky black of night, growing brighter and brighter as time goes on — greens, blues, pinks and purples shifting and dancing across the night. And much like every Aurora before this one, the electricals of the world come to life too. Homes, streetlamps, cars long-stranded in the snow. Man’s world comes alive, buzzing and flickering precariously.

But there are no ghosts like there once was a year ago. No terrible weather, no poisonous fog. If one could call it a ‘normal’ Aurora, that’s what it appears to be. But there is something else in amongst all the light and noise. Snatches of things: whispers of conversations, names called, laughter and tears.

You realise you recognise these voices. They are the voices of home. Perhaps you hear your mother, your siblings or friends. Whoever they are, you can hear them. And although they might not be able to hear you — for one brief night, the Aurora has connected you, bridged the gap between your world and this one. You may sit for a while, simply listening to the voices, relishing in hearing those from back home. If others join you, you will find yourself compelled to speak of them: to share in stories about those from back home — the connections you share with them.

It’s strange, though. These voices do not fill you with comfort or joy. Instead you are left with feelings of sadness, anger, and isolation. The Aurora has connected Interlopers, but now you feel so cut off from home, cut off from friends and loved ones — reminded of everything left behind. Everything you long for. Everything you have lost.

Something strange skips through the sky, a warping of the sound. It’s unsettling. Something feels... wrong, somehow.

It’s not just the voices that will remind you of this. Something else comes through the Aurora after that night. A small token will be brought through. Whatever the item may be, when you go to sleep and next wake, you will find said item. It may be placed on your bedside, on your desk or dining room table.

The item, you will find, will bring you a reminder of pain. Of sadness. Of horror. Perhaps it’s something you haven’t thought of in some time. Maybe it is something that has lingered in the back of your mind. Perhaps it is a part of you, waiting to be uncovered. A sign of something to come. A painful reminder of your past, or an ominous omen of your future.

THE ENEMY WITHIN

WHEN: The month of September.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: kidnapping/attempted kidnapping; attempted murder; murder; vandalism; arson; assault; animal mutilation; corpse mutilation/manipulation/desecration; themes of peril/terror; possible character/npc injuries; possible character/npc death.

It starts with strange happenings at night, things left to be found by the next morning. Those within Lakeside many find themselves unsurprised by it, given their location, but the scenes found in Milton are a foreboding sight.

Mutilated bodies of animals: rabbits, ptarmigans, even deer — mangled and strewn about the streets, blood upon the snow. Some may awaken in the middle of the night to the sounds of their windows breaking, with houses on the Outskirts being targeted more than those in the middle of town. There is… a kind of unrest in the world.

It escalates.

Some may leave their home for the day and return in the evening to find the place trashed: items broken, precious foodstuffs thrown about the place and destroyed. Those within the Outskirts are once again particularly vulnerable, as are those within Lakeside. Fires are started in some of the abandoned buildings of Milton. Something, someone is targeting the Interlopers.

It is hard to pin-point who exactly, and it only puts the Interlopers on high alert. Nothing like this has never happened before. This is new, especially in Milton.

As the month progresses, the acts become more serious. Fires may be started in the middle of the night in Interlopers’ homes while they sleep. Some are attacked in the night, others are taken from their beds. Some killed within their very homes. Of the Interlopers that go missing, their mutilated remains may be found days later out in the wilds.

In Milton, soon enough, someone is bold enough to come out from the darkness, out from the gloom of the night. Interlopers may be attacked in broad daylight — by those they may recognise as newer Interlopers of the community, who appeared from the wilds: lost and shivering, with nowhere else to go. Some of them have been within Milton for a few months now.

Those in Lakeside will face something similar: Forest Talkers are making a move, rogue and isolated incidents — done with sabotaging attempts at hunting and taking a more direct approach.

They have no qualms about being captured or killed, only determined to get rid of as many of the Interlopers as they can. They whisper, they scream: “You don’t belong here. You should never have come here. It wants you gone, it wants us all gone. The end is here, it’s too late for any of us. Nature must run its course. The yawning grave has been opened.”

The attack is on two fronts: the first of Forest Talkers in Lakeside amplifying their actions. The second in Milton, enemies within the ranks of the Interlopers, Forest Talkers hiding as Interlopers.

Within Milton, newer Interlopers will likely be met with suspicion as being some of the Forest Fighters as a result of these individual acts of violence. As the numbers of Milton have been infiltrated, and it’s easy to have mistrust amongst those newer to the community. In-fighting is likely, and the entire town is stuck in some terrible, tense state — unsure of who to trust within their own numbers. In the days and weeks that follow, it remains like this. Acts of violence and vandalism — chaos and disorder.

BAD BLOOD

WHEN: The night of 27th - 28th September.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: attempted murder; murder; vandalism; arson; assault; mentions of blood; themes of peril/terror; possible character/npc injuries; possible character death/npc death; actual NPC death.

Towards the end of the month, the moon is full. They call it the Harvest Moon, but colour seeps into it — oranges and reds: a blood moon, partially eclipsed. The night is calm and cloudless, but there’s an uneasy feeling in the night.

The earth groans, the rumble of another quake that’s plagued the Northern Territories since the beginning of August. It is the only warning Interlopers will get — if they may realise it as a warning. To some, when they look back, it’s a omen, a starting pistol.

They do not come through the Mines. Thanks to the efforts of Interlopers to guard the entrances of the Milton Mines, they know better. They come to town from the south, not the north.
The quakes of August and September have opened a new way from Lakeside to Milton. They are led by their Leader: a man dressed in white, a large deer skull upon his head. And while their numbers are small in comparison, they come armed and with the determination to get rid of the Interlopers once and for all. As they come into town, they launch their attack.

More fires will be set, Interlopers will be attacked with abandon. Shot at, stabbed, beaten. It is a mass execution. They will not stop until the Interlopers, or them, are dead.

Well, the majority of them. There are just under a dozen teenagers and younger people amongst their ranks who have shown hesitance toward violence in the past. Perhaps they can be reasoned with. Perhaps there may be a way to convince them to abandon their cause. There is fear in their eyes. Some of them do not want to die. They fear the yawning grave.

What will do you then, Interloper? Are you willing to fight for your life? Are you willing to take another’s to save your own, or a friends? Will you hide, or run? What choice will you make? The Forest Talkers have long since made their own choice. Now you must make yours.

It is another night of chaos on a town already scarred by the events of June. Interlopers will note two familiar faces in the fray: at some point during the night both Methuselah and Young Bill will arrive. While Methuselah will concentrate on aiding the wounded and trying to shelter Interlopers the best he can, Young Bill will help protect Interlopers from the Forest Talkers with his rifle in hand. But fortunately, it is just for one single night. Ammunition runs out, sides are switched, and people are killed. As dawn approaches, Forest Talker numbers dwindle. Either killed, incapacitated or defected. In the early morning light, bodies lie in the snow both Interloper and Forest Talker alike.

Those trying to hunt down the leader will see him slipping inside an empty cabin, heavily wounded. Following after him, they will find him settling himself down to kneel on the floor. The white of his tactical gear stained red with blood as it blooms from his wounds. Slowly, he removes the deer skull from his head to reveal a clean-shaven man in his late twenties with a shock of white-blond hair. His eyes are blue, calm.

He sets the skull down, panting and sweating. He is dying. He is not afraid.

“My name is Mallory, not that it matters now. We are dead, you and I.” he says softly. “We exist in a dying world.”

He is in much pain from his wounds. He moves again to sit cross-legged on the floor. A hand touches the bloodied fabric of his front and he laughs humourlessly.

“You don’t understand, do you? The end must come. That is the order of things. The end must come so the world can be reborn. That is how it’s always worked. When the world is swallowed, it will grow again from the earth.”

It is a story. The story of the Darkwalker. Some believe it to be the end of the world, but Young Bill had once said there is another telling of the tale. A creation myth. The Darkwalker swallows the world and returns to its slumber within the earth. Within it, everything its swallowed grows again and the world returns.

“We fought against man’s actions to ruin this place, not knowing our true purpose. The Devourer has shown me the truth, and I sought to put that into action.” His head tilts to one side. “The yawning grave is opened. Does new life not grow from the decay? It is a cycle. The grave and the cradle.”

He finds it difficult to breathe, but he presses on.

“You fight to live. You come here and you do not see what you are. You are only delaying the inevitable, perverting the true course. Prolonging the suffering. You are the Interlopers, you are not part of nature’s design. The Darkwalker does not want you here. And where it fails, we have tried to succeed.”

There’s another laugh, something catching in his throat. He coughs, blood bubbling from his lips.

“And failed. For now. The First Cursed cannot hold it forever. She, too, delays the inevitable." Even as he is dying, he still have the energy to sneer. He speaks of Enola. "A woman who plays at being a god. What right does she have? All must go into the Long Dark. ... As will I. Return me to the grave.”

Mallory’s head dips, his body sagging. He inhales once more and then stops.

FAQs

PAINFUL REMINDERS


1. Players must sign up for items. See the toplevel on the plotting post.

2. Items will face the same warps/nerfs as everything else that is brought into the game.

3. Items can be no bigger than something your character can reasonably carry.

4. While items do not have to belong to your character, there has to be a good reason why they’d receive such an item — ie. something related to your character.


THE ENEMY WITHIN

1. The Forest Talkers within Milton are a number of NPCs that have been pre-selected from NPCs who arrived in April and August. Not all of them will show their true intentions as the month goes on but will continue to stay hidden.

2. Two NPCs killed in the June Event were also Forest Talkers. … Good… job?

3. The following NPC Interlopers will out themselves as Forest Talkers at this stage: Devon Busswood; Rita Yee; Realm Lovejoy.


BAD BLOOD

1. Following the events of this prompt, Interlopers now have an additional way into Lakeside. It’s still rather dangerous: it’s through a partially collapsed cave system that ends into abandoned bunker on the Lakeside side. The game map will be marked accordingly in due course.

2. Some Interlopers may recognise a familiar face in the Forest Talker ranks: the man who was kidnapped by Interlopers previously in July has returned. Looks like he made good on his promise. He's come back to cause problems.

3. The following NPC Interlopers will out themselves as Forest Talkers during the attack: Jackie Blackmore; Ross Huguet; Jennifer Kitchen; Daniel Kresco.

4. As a reminder of numbers: around fifty Forest Talkers will show up for the attack.

5. There is an OOC vote on the fate of the remaining Forest Talkers, the link is here.

PLOTTING POST

Comments

— Svetlana Nazarova. (cw: stab wound, alien parasite fuckery)

[sputnik]

This isn't good. There's a jagged stab wound in his lower side, and in the frenzy he'd managed to get away, but he won't stop bleeding.

Konstantin can't find Vasiliy in the house, he's probably rushed out to find him, or maybe he's off helping give medical attention to anyone who needs it, but Konstantin doesn't spend much time at the cabin. He needs help, and there is someone he can go to, someone who knows about his "condition". (Is the creature harmed, too? He doesn't know. He doesn't think the wall of his stomach was struck by the knife that stabbed him in his side, but the thing is being oddly still, not moving. Maybe it's afraid.) He grabs a few items, stuffs them into his bag, and sets off, wincing sharply against the pain in his side, a towel shoved against the wound.

Dragging himself to Svetlana's takes a while, especially since he has to sneak around behind buildings and keep a low profile. He could be attacked again any moment by one of the Forest Talkers. It's absolute chaos outside.

Somehow he manages to make it to the woman's cabin and can only hope that she's inside — unharmed and safe, and maybe she can help him. But he's dizzy from blood loss and exhaustion, and all but falls against her door with a heavy thud. The cosmonaut barely manages to lift a fist and rap on her door, before his arm falls back down.

[balancedlight]

She knows that thud. She knows what a body falling against a door sounds like. She rushes to it, no coat, no jacket, only a sweater, and throws open the door with a gasp.

Please don't be Ben. Please don't be Ben.

....what she sees is no less horrifying.

"Kostya!" she cries out, dropping to her knees and placing her hand on his shoulder. "What happened?" She frantically reaches for the towel so she can pull it away, to see the damage.

[sputnik]

She's home — a fact he registers with a sweep of relief as he reaches a hand out to grasp the woman's arm, though his own grip is weak. He lets her pull the towel back, wincing sharply as the cold air makes contact with the stab wound in his side.

"I was trying to play hero too much, I think." Konstantin gives a soft laugh, playful even now. "Do you have room on your schedule for a patient?"

[balancedlight]

"What have I told you about that?" she tuts, inspecting the wound. "Come inside where it's warmer. I will drag you if I need to." But she can't do anything with him while he's half in her cabin and half in the cold.

[sputnik]

"I know, I know. I deserve to be smacked with that broom of yours." He tries to laugh quietly again, but the movement hurts, and he gives a sharp gasp in the next second. This really could be bad. He needs to try and get up, get inside, get some help.

So Konstantin slowly, cautiously pulls himself back upwards, having to grasp Svetlana's shoulder, but managing to make it enough that he can stand.

"It was a knife, or— maybe a dagger. One of the Forest Talkers."

[balancedlight]

She is not going to make him stand for long. Just enough to try and get him inside and down in front of the fire so she can see exactly what happened.

"What happened after they stabbed you?" she wonders, starting to strip him of his outer clothes.

[sputnik]

"Everything was chaos — I only managed to get away because they got distracted with someone else. I think they assumed I was finished off." Konstantin winces as she works on his clothing, looking down at himself. He's bleeding, but not necessarily profusely. Hopefully the attack missed any organs.

"...Sveta, I need to warn you, though." He looks up to meet his friend's eyes as he shudders a little. "This is very close to where... the creature is. I don't know how it's going to react, or... if it might have gotten hurt, too."

[balancedlight]

"It's alright," she assures him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about it. Worry about resting. Lie down and let me look."

She washes her hands with a harsh soap and water, then starts to gently probe along the wound, watching his face for signs of pain. "I'm going to give you an antibiotic. I don't think it will - do anything to Little Shit," she says with a hesitant smile. "But I don't see anything yet and I can't risk infection."

[sputnik]

Sveta isn't easy to frighten off, he knows, but there's a hitch of nerves at the thought of her getting closer to this thing. He came here willingly, knowing she would have to, but the reality is difficult to swallow. He does have to give a soft laugh at that — Little Shit; the nickname he'd assigned the thing really does fit.

"I'm worried it might try to do something to you," he admits, as he starts to lean back on his elbows but hesitates for a moment. "Back at the facility, the doctors did... many tests. It might get agitated, remembering that." He frowns, looking up at her. "Will you promise me that if it starts becoming dangerous, if it comes out... you'll keep yourself safe? Leave this room and lock me in here. It can't open doors."

cw; needles

[balancedlight]

Sveta isn't allowed to lie. As a Light Other, it's forbidden to lie.

But she can embellish the truth.

"I will do what I need to," she assures him, brushing her hand across his forehead. "Trust me."

She cleans the needle and draws the precious antibiotic from the vial before she administers it to him, her other hand on his abdomen, absently shushing him as she does so. Or maybe the creature inside.

[sputnik]

It's hard — hard to trust. Not Svetlana specifically; in fact, she's been so easy for him to trust, but hard to trust this situation at all. Hard to trust that it will be all right, that she won't be hurt, hard to trust that he made the right decision coming here at all. But he's made it and now the only thing he can do is try to help her help him.

So he lies back, not flinching as the needle enters his skin; he's had plenty of experience with those when he'd been a lab rat for nearly a month.

But the creature doesn't like it, doesn't understand that it can and should trust her, and he can feel it move a little, sensitive body already reacting to the medication she gives him. Konstantin breathes out slowly, steadying himself, hesitating, before looking back up to her.

"It's awake. Aware." Just to warn her. "But just cautious right now, I think."

[balancedlight]

She nods. "Alright, then." She places a hand on the wound again and is tempted to take it from him, but that would be selfish on her part. She needs to be able to move around. She's the only goddamn actual doctor here aside from Goodsir, and he still needs training.

She bites the inside of her cheek. "Will it be upset if I give you a sedative?" she asks, leaning over him as she counts his breathing.

[sputnik]

He pauses, thinking seriously about that. There's a risk that it will get agitated to begin with, but a sedative should calm the thing down quickly enough, too.

"I think it will be all right. It might get annoyed to begin with, but Little Shit could use a sedative." He manages to laugh, slightly, before another thought occurs, one that makes him feel a hitch of guilt.

"...Do you have enough to spare, though?"

[balancedlight]

She waves off his concern with some Russian grumbling, literally waving her hand in front of him to shush him. "I am the doctor right now, Konstantin Sergeyevich, and you are the patient." She puts her finger to her lips. "Hush and let me work."

She's quick, her fingers nimble, and she draws enough of the sedative, one hand holding the skin. But strangely, he will feel no pinch. No rush of medicine. Nothing. Sveta draws it out, the quick stick, the sensation of pain, her brow furrowed as she stays steady. But hopefully that will keep their friend happy.

[sputnik]

Living with Vasiliy, who also offers medical care to the community, Konstantin knows how rare and precious supplies can be. There's an uncomfortable jolt of awareness to that fact, but he does fall quiet when Svetlana shushes him, looking up at her with a half-smile, half-grimace. He won't argue, but he's not happy about this!

Still... he's aware he does need help. Konstantin stays very still, preparing himself for a sting (and hoping that the creature won't react), but there's.... nothing. Konstantin waits for a few more seconds before he tilts his head down to look — and sees the needle in his arm. There's no pain. There's nothing.

Brows lifting, he stares, not daring to move anything apart from his mouth.

"Did you put... some kind of anesthetic on before? I don't even feel anything." He doesn't know about the healer ability yet.

[balancedlight]

"I did not," she says, withdrawing the needle and presses a bandage against it just in case of bleeding. "But you will feel comfortable now. Sleepy, perhaps. Try counting down from twenty and then see how you feel?"

She has to stitch this up and she has to have him relaxed to do so. Him and his passenger.

[sputnik]

Konstantin's brows narrow in confusion, watching her as she works. There's more he wants to ask, but he can feel his heart slowing a little, and knows he needs to let her work, but— just how did she do that?

For now he nods, head tilting back to stare at the ceiling, before another thought comes, and he lifts it again for a moment, pointing to his pack nearby.

"There's an X-ray of the thing in there. In case you need to see where it... is. How it is." If she's going to do work on him, it might help her to know. Said X-ray reveals the creature's position inside of him — occupying his stomach, and when stretched out, it pretty much fills up the whole thing. Fortunately the little alien is curled up now, so it's not so full inside of him, pushing against his other organs.

With that, he lies back again and stares upwards, breathing as evenly as he can, though he's still anxious. But he tries doing what she suggested, counting backwards. About halfway through, his eyelids will start to flutter, going half-lidded, and his breathing evens out.

[balancedlight]

"I know," she mutters, patting his shoulder, watching his face as he slowly slips into a more calm state. "You showed me the x-ray, the last time we spoke. Don't worry, I won't be bothering him." She gently touches his stomach and then gets to work on the wound, stitching it up as swiftly as she can, taking the pain as she does, letting him sleep soundly. She isn't brave enough to take the entire wound (and she feels like a coward for it) but she can give him this. The stitches can heal.

She bites her lip in the process, holding back the pain with a shuddering breath.

But it's finished, she wraps him up, and places a hand on his cheek.

"Open your eyes now and look at me."

[sputnik]

Before he realises it, no matter how much he tries to hold onto his worries, he's out — lulled by the sedative, eyes fluttering closed.

Time passes — he doesn't have a full concept of how much — and then there's a hand at his cheek and his friend's gentle voice. Konstantin's eyes slowly open, dark and tired, confused in his hazy state to begin with. Tanya? he almost asks, like he once had, but he knows better this time.

"Is everything okay...? Are you okay?" His voice is drowsy, but concerned despite that.

[balancedlight]

She's a little pale, a fine sheen of sweat on her forehead, but otherwise, his gaze opens to meet her smile.

"Yes," she assures him. "Everything is alright. You will live, but I need you to rest right here for a while. Near the fire so I can watch you."

[sputnik]

He's still a little hazy as he comes out of the sedative, blinking glossily, but he can see Sveta's face; she looks.. tired? More tired than before. Something doesn't seem right, but—

He nods, swallowing thickly as he'll follow whatever instruction she gives him.

"Thank you. I don't know what I would have done without you." He tries to look down to the wound, surprised that he doesn't feel pain or soreness.

"It feels... incredible. Are you really a miracle worker?"

[balancedlight]

"I am not," she smiles, moving away so she can retrieve a pillow and blanket. "I am a simple Russian doctor."

Sveta places the blanket over him and kneels down to help his head onto the pillow. "I will stay up with you. When you wake properly, you can try to eat something small."

As for where he would be without her, well, dead in the snow isn't off the list of possibilities. Sveta won't allow that.

[sputnik]

He knows Svetlana is much more than anything simple. She's a sorceress back in her world. She's an incredible person. He smiles back, tired but genuine, and lets her help him into a more comfortable position, able to lean up a bit on his pillow so he can see her.

"You don't have to watch over me if you have other things you need to get to. Although I'm always happy for your company."

[balancedlight]

"I do need to watch over you," she insists. "You are my only priority right now." She pats his chest. "Try and rest, my friend. You will feel better when you wake up."

She takes a few pain pills for herself, downing them with water.

[sputnik]

He wants to protest again — but refrains. He doesn't want to make anything harder on her. So he nods, leans back again, eyes going up to the ceiling. Almost self-consciously, he reaches to adjust his shirt, making sure it's pulled down enough to at least cover the round scar on his upper abdomen.

His eyes roll over to catch her taking those pills, still.. unsure, feeling something needling and unpleasant at the base of his spine, but exhaustion is seeping in fast, and soon enough, Konstantin truly is asleep. It won't be for too long, but enough that it's deep, lulled, body eased of its pain.

And his... inhabitant causes no trouble, although it does shift around here and there, causing him to cough a few times while he sleeps.