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

[gildedlife]

Nineteen thirty-four. It isn't as much of a shock as it would've been had he not had opportunity to get used to people coming from different times, but it's still strange. Nearly a hundred years later than the last year James had seen, and nearly a hundred less than he's heard this town seems to be. It's... Strange, to say the least, but unlike many of the other things that are strange in terrible or unsettling ways, this one is just interesting. Fascinating, even. There's so much new to explore.

"James Fitzjames." He shakes Arthur's hand in return when it's offered, his own smile a little more confident; the whole song and dance of introductions is something he's entirely practiced in, even if it sometimes feels like a holdover from another life. Perhaps it was, in a sense.

"It was eighteen forty-eight for me, last. So this is all somewhat unfamiliar." James makes a vague gesture toward the radio, but the truck itself is included in that too.

[lestercraft]

Hold on, he needs a moment to absorb that he's actually meeting someone who could feasibly be his grandfather.

"Jesus. All of this technology must be fucking bizarre to see, then." He raps the truck lightly with one hand. "When I was a boy they had to start these manually, w-with a crank in the front, now they're all, uh- internal combustion engines, I think. Like a steamer, but petroleum instead of coal."

[gildedlife]

"There are far more strange things about this place." James says, but his tone is one of dry humor. The technology has indeed been entirely bizarre, and if he hasn't had so many more pressing issues on his mind, it would be far more difficult to just take it in stride.

The descriptor of how the truck works is one he can make more direct sense of than most, as he typically only has some sort of semi-adjacent knowledge for the technology here, but--

"I'm familiar with steamships." And trains, of course. Though actually, now that Arthur mentions it, James vaguely remembers hearing some talk of attempts at making small vehicles powered with steam engines as well, but hasn't seen one. "Do any of these still function? I have yet to see one move."

[lestercraft]

The question gets an uncertain hum. "I suppose not. All the newer cars in my time were using electricity - perhaps they do it even more so now, makes them unable to be used properly unless there's an aurora."

And he gives the truck a dissatisfied look. "There's probably a way to bypass needing a key, but I'm not sure how myself."

[gildedlife]

"What is the key for?" Other than making the truck work, he understand that part from context, but why? Security?

And as he asks the question he wanders around the truck a little, seriously considering it for the first time, and finds the seam of the front hood that tips him off the idea that it might open. It'll take him a moment to figure out how, but now he's curious to see what's inside the thing.

[lestercraft]

"Oh, it- it starts the car, activates the ignition and gets the engine running. A very carefully engineered way of sparking the fuel in the engine. It also, er." He runs a hand briefly over the lock on the door as his gaze follows James around the car. "Unlocks it. Oh, one moment--"

He clambers back into the front seat briefly, digging under the wheel for a moment, and gives a short "A-ha!" as he finds the hood release, and there's the sound of something clicking under the hood as something gives.

[gildedlife]

Interesting. Is it's a spark that's needed, perhaps that can be done a different way? Of course it's likely it's done carefully for a reason, and so it might not be all that smart to entertain the idea, so he just files that thought away for now.

The sound of a latch releasing under the hood is a good distraction anyway, and James lifts it one-handedly; although he's recovered enough strength to be using his left arm again for some things, he's not about to try lifting anything with it that he doesn't need to. Besides, the hood isn't heavy, though it does take a moment to figure out how to work the hood prop at the same time.

But that accomplished, he... Has no idea what he's looking at, but it's fascinating.

"Radio aside, none of this is functioning?" He leans around the hood so he can see Arthur when he asks the question; the answer seems apparent, but he does want to be sure before he starts messing with it. Although he's unaware of the potential risks from electricity, he'd prefer not to lose fingers to any unexpected gears or pistons that might fire off.

[lestercraft]

Arthur hops out of the car again while James is fiddling with the hood prop, not quite fast enough to help him but plenty of time to look over the mess of engine-work with him, tucking his gloved hands into his armpits to stave off that particular cold of the false night.

"Not to my knowledge. We'd need to find the key first to turn it on and test it," he explains. "But some vehicles, I-I suppose they can be started in bits and pieces, perhaps? Or- or maybe the radio is entirely separate, it might have its own power source - a steamer with two engines, for example, one for the big job and one for- little things, smaller tasks." He shrugs. "This is just speculation on my part, though - we'd probably want to find someone from the twenty-first century to verify it."

[gildedlife]

Arthur's probably right, they probably should find someone from the twenty-first century--something that sounds absolutely absurd if he thinks about it for more than a moment--to verify things for them before they go poking around in potentially dangerous machinery. James is relatively confident with the technology of his time, enough so that it's very tempting to experiment with the mess of machinery under the hood, but he's not an engineer and he does have enough sense to weigh the risks.

"I suppose it would be best to wait until the Aurora has passed." Begrudgingly. But since it's just curiosity driving him to want to experiment with the truck's engine, and it's not about attempting to use the Aurora's power to actually start the engine or anything, he can wait until it's safer to do so.

So instead, he glances over at Arthur, and asks something else he's curious about. "Are you from England?" The accent says yes, but Arthur's from nearly a hundred years later than James is, so who knows what accents might be like in that time.

[lestercraft]

"Ah-" Somehow he hasn't actually been asked the question that much, oddly enough; it's so bizarrely normal that it catches him by surprise. "Technically yes, I-I was born there, and- moved to America, w-when I was seventeen. I live near Boston, currently, er- Massachussets."

He has no idea, he realises belatedly, what cities was already established in James' time.

[gildedlife]

The answer is interesting for a few reasons, and James immediately has more questions, but the surprise and stammering gives him brief pause. Perhaps he's reading into it, but with James' own cautiousness when it comes to this same subject, he can't help but wonder if there might be something to this story.

...But of course he could be projecting, and that's something he doesn't want picked up on in reverse, so he disregards the entire idea and nods his understanding at the response. He tucks his hands in his pockets, now that he's given up on messing with the engine, and responds lightly.

"Of all places I've traveled, I have never been to the United States." James has been all over the world, including Central and South America, and of course the extreme north of the Arctic, but never the States themselves. "What prompted you to move so far from England?"

[lestercraft]

"Ah, well." He shrugs one shoulder, and the motion turns into him tucking his hands in his pits as he folds his arms. "It's hardly so dramatic. I didn't have anything much left for me in England, so. Land of opportunity and all that, or so it goes. A fresh start."

[gildedlife]

It's a reasonable explanation, though James still thinks a move across an entire ocean can't possibly be something undertaken lightly. Of course, who knows what might've changed between their time periods; perhaps this is a more common thing to do when Arthur is from.

"How do you find it?" Living in a new country in general, as well as America specifically.

[lestercraft]

And Arthur laughs quietly, a little sharp and wild before he can contain it.

"Intense, I suppose. A-a few years after I arrive, the American government got the damn stupid idea in its head that alcohol was the source of all their problems after th-- a-after a rough period, so- so they banned the stuff from 1920 until- just last year, actually."

Christ, don't let him be the one to break the Great War to this poor bastard.

[gildedlife]

What year had Arthur said he was from? Nineteen-forty? Something like that, the exact date already gone from James' memory; it's frustrating, but with how badly some of the other men of the expedition had been affected by similar issues, he knows he's fortunate to have his own be so minor. At least when it comes to this particular ailment.

But whatever the exact year, if alcohol was banned in 1920 then it's been at least a decade or two, which is a little unbelievable. James' opinion on alcohol is very neutral, and although too much drink can certainly cause great harm, he can't imagine banning it would somehow solve all the problems a country might have. But he is very curious about it.

"If the ban has been lifted, I presume it was ineffective?"

[lestercraft]

And surprisingly it gets another laugh, but this one's a bit more genuine.

"Christ, they couldn't have fucked it up harder," he chuckles. "You couldn't swing a cat without stumbling into some illicit bar or another, half of them pretending to be perfectly respectable restaurants or businesses during the day. Alcohol came through the cities twice as fast as it ever did, flowed double that, and if people couldn't keep up with demand then they made their own to supply. It was madness."

[gildedlife]

James can't help but give a little smile at the more genuine laugh, and also the response in general. What an absolute disaster that entire thing sounds like, and he can't imagine it going on for so long without the government deciding to just give up. Then again, sunk cost fallacy and all that.

"Of course it was." Ban something and it only makes people want it more, after all. And Americans do having some of a reputation for being contrary and anti-authority on top of it, which makes it only more ridiculous that their government apparently thought this would work.

"Aside from limiting the sources of drink, were laws enforced against those found partaking?" He's curious about how that would've worked, especially if drinking were so widespread. It seems like it would've been not only been incredibly impractical, but potentially simply impossible, to actually prosecute people found breaking that particular law.