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singillatim2024-09-09 11:48 pm
singmod) wrote in singillatim2024-09-09 11:48 pm
Entry tags:
- *event,
- arthur lester: maniette,
- benton fraser: lorna,
- billy prior: karen,
- casper darling: mimi,
- charles rowland: giz,
- chloe frazer: tess,
- cornelius hickey: kates,
- daisy johnson: amy,
- edward little: jhey,
- eren jaeger: lyn,
- francis crozier: gels,
- illarion: lark,
- james fitzjames: ami,
- jane margolis: amber,
- john irving: gabbie,
- kate marsh: cheryl,
- kieren walker: cheryl,
- konstantin veshnyakov: jhey,
- lalo salamanca: amber,
- levi ackerman: dem,
- levi jordan: cirape,
- louis de pointe du lac: tea,
- michonne grimes: cloude,
- ragnar lothbrok: lily,
- randvi: tess,
- reiner braun: kas,
- sameen shaw: iddy,
- sandor clegane: em,
- scratch: laus,
- snow white: carly,
- tim drake: fox,
- trixie: gels,
- vasiliy ardakin: yasmine,
- wynonna earp: lorna
it must be that old evil spirit
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
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.
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.
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.
sorry for this delay!
Well.
He means no harm. He technically can't make any assumptions about her, but generally speaking, anyone who pauses that half-second to at least ask after someone isn't intending to lead with brute force at the outset. He takes just a step or two back, hands held out at chest level. There's no panic in him by any means, though. ]
Hello! I'm the Doctor, here to — [ It's an automatic thing, that roll of the tongue; here to help or at your service, or something more absurd and whimsical like, sorry I'm late, traffic was terrible. But none of it really fits, so he simply says: ] Be here. Anywhere at all, really.
[ The gun is, of course, noticed, but he'll avoid paying it any further mind unless it's solidly aimed at him. ]
Sorry to startle! I'm usually light on my feet.
[ Hardly. ]
no worries at all!
You're the Doctor?
[ There's just the slightest emphasis on that you're. It's not that she finds it so surprising, exactly, but she hadn't had any idea what to picture when Thomas told her about him. He looks nice enough, a long face and floppy brown hair, and he's got his hands out in the universal sign for 'hold your horses. Wynonna re-holsters the gun in her hand and studies him, relaxing a little in the way she holds herself. ]
I've heard a lot about you, lately. Which way are you headed?
[ Maybe to the very same spot she just left, seeing as he's been there a few times when she's been gone. Good; Tommy could use the company. ]
no subject
[ It's never really so simple, is it? But he rambles on too much sometimes, and he seems to catch himself, pausing, taking a breath, smiling softly. For a moment, he looks up to the sky and back at her. ]
It's beautiful out here and I needed to not be where I was. [ For...reasons; specifically, a pair of reading glasses placed reverently on the mantle of his fireplace. Stared at for hours while he paced so rapidly he might have worn away a solid layer of wood. ] You don't mind the tagalong for a bit, do you? See where we end up?
[ In his rush to respond, he completely overlooked what may have been the most important detail of her initial response, and he circles back to it like he's simply flipping back ten pages to where he'd bookmarked a spot in his mind. ]
I've been making the papers, have I? Delightful! We must have a mutual acquaintance? All good chatter, I hope, or I'll settle for unique and unusual.
no subject
She lets it all wash over her, her brow rucking further and further into a vertical furrow, trying to sift out a few usable tidbits of information. ]
Dude, you are way too happy to run into a random person in the middle of the woods.
[ Especially considering she could easily have been a Forest Talker, or one of the twitchier Interlopers. But she can answer at least one of his questions, so she grabs hold and hangs on for dear life, trying not to get swept under the deluge of questions, comments, and random asides. ]
Yeah, we have someone in common. Thomas Jopson.
[ She tips her chin up at him, curious. ]
What was so bad about where you were?
no subject
[ This is the understatement of all time, to say the least, but while he can talk at length about — so many things, it tends to be that the people and topics he holds most dear are tucked away and have to be pried out of him. If they both know Thomas, though, this must mean — of course. Had he been paying better attention, he might have deduced this already. ]
Which must make you Wynonna? [ Given the proximity to that cabin, their shared acquaintance. As though only moments ago the Doctor had been very much like a top being chaotically spun around and he's now come to a pleasant rest, his demeanor softens and he settles a little, and smiles gently. ]
You're someone I didn't know five minutes ago and whose acquaintance I'm very glad to have made now. A far more pleasant encounter in the woods than some I've had here.
[ This, for him, is a small reason to extract joy from what should be — for most — a more cautious encounter. But then he's never been...most. He reasons that her putting the gun down and away was enough to assume all is well, but then again, his default is to take every positive interaction as a potential path to friendship unless proven otherwise. He can be delayed in picking up on social cues, not the best at boundaries or even always matching the tone of a moment, but he can adjust accordingly when he clues in. Eventually. It's perhaps the reading glasses and the melancholy they've conjured that's made him — more outwardly jovial than he should be right now. The way he slips into whimsy rather than getting lost in memories that hurt. ]
Were you...going anywhere in particular yourself? I haven't set you off your path, have I?
[ — So much easier to ask questions than to answer them. ]
no subject
[ Oh, sure, he sounds delighted — just like someone should, when talking about Tommy — and he calls Tommy brilliant — which, again, agreed — but she's not so easily won over. Wynonna takes a few steps closer, then leans towards him, eyebrows lifting as she meets his glance with her own. ]
The one who's gonna hear all about it if you fuck things up.
[ She gives it a second, then lifts her hand to give the Doctor a light, mostly friendly smack on the shoulder with the back of her knuckles as she turns away and looks back toward the path. ]
I'm heading to Milton. Got a friend there I need to check in on.
[ And with, because her daddy's badge is a weight she can't stop feeling in her pocket. But March won't ask too many questions, and even if he won't have answers, she knows just seeing the understanding in his eyes will help.
Some booze wouldn't hurt, either. She is, after all, her father's daughter. ]
Tag along, if you want. Unless you were heading over to Jackrabbit to see Tommy.
no subject
And evidently there is something he needs to worry about — mucking up — as it pertains to Thomas Jopson, the man he's...well, he's important. He's very important. So much so in ways he hasn't fully allowed himself to understand, consider, accept. Evidently he should put more thought and care into this, though, if there's reason to think he could make a mess of it.
— which is a reasonable worry to have. He knows he's made messes of...so many things. And he is genuinely trying to be careful of how close he gets to Thomas Jopson. He knows he's attached to him, he knows he has his own fears of losing him, and those fears are usually what keeps him from ever getting closer. But he wants to get closer. There are things that sit deep in a heart (hearts, in his case), things that defy reason and logic, and speak louder despite his attempts to beat it back and quiet those feelings. ]
If I make a mess of things, Wynonna, I sincerely hope you never allow me a moment's peace for it. I trust you won't.
[ He knows the truth of himself. He could hurt him, he's hurt so many, and he fears that more than losing him, because he would and does deserve better. Something about knowing Wynonna would come after him for it, would protect Thomas so fiercely, is comforting. May she never need to. ]
He's...very important to me. [ It's the most he can define this right now, but there is a softness and sincerity in his tone. ]
[ As to her question, though. ]
I'd like to join you, yes. A walk would do me good. [ He couldn't see Thomas tonight, he wants to keep him from this if he can. ] Good of you to check on your friend, with everything — well, everything all the time here I suppose.
no subject
[ Not like Tommy himself... but that only reminds her of everything else he told her that night. She pushes aside the swell of confusion and anger with the ease of long practice and focuses on person in front of her. ]
And I'll be sure to remind you that you asked for it, if I need to. But you seem like a smart guy.
[ At least, he works at giving off that impression, with his fast-talking professorial aesthetic. She bets he knows Latin. Waverly would love him. ]
Maybe smart enough to realize a good thing when it lands in your lap. Literally, I hope.
[ God knows Tommy could use it.
She shrugs at his agreement and shifts aside on the path to make room for him to walk beside her. He's got long legs; she's not going to worry about slowing her pace for him. And it's a good distraction, his company, from the thing still tucked into her jacket pocket. Wynonna runs her fingers lightly over cool metal, then tugs her hand back out of the pocket with a stuttered motion that's almost a flinch. ]
Always a good idea to see if the few people here I can stand managed to make it through yet another super fun round of 'Secret Santa with the Aurora.' It didn't even have the decency to come with any new skill sets, either, just bad accessorizing.
no subject
There are many things he considers himself very smart about, will boast about, will assert himself as the smartest in the room. In matters of the heart(s) and messy things like emotions, he knows he's...not the best. But he does learn, he does adapt, he does try, when it's very, very important. And he does love, has loved many for so very long. It's — learning to express it, letting himself feel it, that causes no end of trouble.
In this, he would consider Thomas far smarter and absolutely better than him in every way, but miraculously, the other man hasn't seemed to tire of his company yet. He must be doing something right so far. ]
I hope so, too, I wouldn't want him landing anywhere but my lap if he wasn't steady on his feet.
[ He's not quite as clueless as he sometimes purports himself to be, though at least half the time, he truly is the oblivious idiot. Hard to tell sometimes.
He would and does like Wynonna already, of course, knowing how important she is to Thomas. But then she speaks of their recent aurora as though it were a trickster god of sorts, and he can't help a soft, brief laugh despite the circumstances. ]
Secret Santa Aurora, oh, that's clever. It's really never bothered asking us what we'd like, has it? And if you aren't keen on what you're given, the customer service line here's an absolute nightmare. I've been on hold for a solid six months. The last one, at least, seems to have given me the ability to quite literally be a physician of sorts. This one, though — particularly... [ Cruel would be the word here, at least for him. But that's a little more than he's ready to say yet. ] — misguided.
What did it give you?
I blinked and it was two weeks later... apologies!
Okay, no need to get all 'Ryan Gosling in a rom-com' about it. I get it.
But seriously, if you hurt him, just remember I have a really big gun and a long history of making snap judgments and extremely bad decisions.
[ That's almost more of an aside; they've pretty much covered it already and she's pretty sure he gets the point, so she shifts to leave him enough of the path to walk at her side. Thomas was right: he is interesting, and despite her threats — which are far more conversational than direct — he seems decent so far. A hell of a lot better than the guys Waverly used to bring around, anyway... not that the bar is high. Saying he seems like a better option than Champ is like saying stale bread is a better option than a loaf full of nails and broken glass.
She cuts a quick glance over at him at the slight pause before his question, then focuses on the path ahead. The badge in her pocket feels like a live grenade; it could go off any second, leaving her sliced open and bleeding all over again. ]
Something I never thought I'd see again.
[ Her fingers slide into her pocket almost of their own accord; she runs the pad of her thumb over the smooth enamel and raised metal of her father's badge. It's cold, and heavier than anything so small has any right to be when she draws it out and holds it on her palm for the Doctor to see. ]
It was my Daddy's.
no apologies needed! <3
He falls into step easily beside her, though, and when the tone of their conversation shifts, naturally, he treats what she reveals to him with the utmost care. He can be oblivious to some things, his head in the clouds in certain moments, but not any moments like this one. No, instead, he pays closer attention, he listens carefully, he watches with respect.
A few questions suddenly flitter through his mind —
What happened to him? and When did you last see it?
What memories must it conjure, what feelings does it stir up? Pain, anger, sadness, guilt, regret, disappointment, fear? Does it hurt to see it, does it help? Would she prefer not to be holding it at all, or would it hurt more to be parted from it?
He thinks of Amy's glasses, of knowing he'll never see her again, of wanting to look away and toss them aside like they were the most cruel thing this world could throw at him. Yet to think of losing those glasses now is almost too much to bear.
But Wynonna's past is hardly known to him, he can only surmise that her feelings about it are complicated at best, as anyone's would be. So he asks a question that might seem to have an obvious answer. It feels worth asking anyway, as he studies the badge, then her. ]
Are you okay?
[ He wasn't. Would he admit to it? Well. This isn't about him. ]