singillatim | it must be that old evil spirit

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

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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He nods because it's true. Because the best thing to do right now is to leave Hickey behind in memories, where he belongs. If Thomas doesn't have to think about him, then he doesn't have to worry about it.

He glances back, towards the woods.

"Forest Talkers. They are - defenders of some sort. They consider us to be encroaching on their land. They scared away any chance of us hunting, they take shots at us if we venture too closely. They're aggressive and very - strange. They arrange these corpses in odd ways, obscene and - and - " He shakes his head. "Well, It isn't pleasant."

Alright, that's at least understandable. Sort of. Feeling threatened by the presence of those who found themselves in this place is a motivation that makes sense, although the last thing Jopson describes is somewhat less understandable, even if it's also familiar.

"The bodies of animals have been being... Left, in obvious places, and in a state that is unlikely to have occurred naturally." To put it mildly. He presumes it's the same thing Jopson is talking about, though the use of the word 'corpses' might indicate something more than animals.

It does, but Jopson isn't inclined to actually define it any more than he already has. He can't bring himself to think about the body that he burned with Hickey there so close.

"Yes, sir."

It isn't a pleasant time to be here.

"And they claim to be defending the land?" Or something of that sort, from what Jopson said? It sounds like nonsense--or perhaps more accurately an excuse--if they're killing and leaving animals strewn about, instead of using them.

"I believe so," he answers, but there's a clear question in his tone. He doesn't know if they are defending or if they are simply attacking. Warning.

He's never certain.

James refrains from sighing--not at Jopson's answer, really, but at the situation, because of course nothing about this would make sense--by chewing on the inside of his cheek for a moment. Whatever the motives, ultimately what they do know is that things have recently gotten worse, and that trend may continue.

"You're very far from the rest of us, out here." He says it neutrally, not wanting it to sound judgemental; he does think it's a little strange that Jopson's chosen to live in Lakeside when the rest of them are in Milton, but he surely has his reasons.

Besides, whatever they might be, they aren't the point of James bringing this up. "If the situation escalates, are you prepared?" Again, it's not judgemental; he knows Jopson can take care of himself, but there's a limit to what one person can handle, no matter how capable they are. He's not sure if Jopson has friends out here, or what the situation is in Lakeside in general, and he can't help but be concerned.

"I left Milton for a reason," he says, because he knows what the question actually is. "I left it deliberately, to strike out on my own, in a way, but I am not alone. Not here. I have support and I am - more capable than I think you might believe me to be."

He doesn't mean it as an argument, but it's simply the truth. Most people don't think of a fighter when they see Jopson. And those who know he is more than what he seems still seem to underestimate him.

"I would have the same concerns were you anyone else." It's the only opposition James puts up to Jopson's last comment, just wanting to make that part clear, and it's true as well; although he might indeed be underestimating Jopson, were it any of them out here, away from the others, he would still be just as worried about them being vulnerable in their isolation.

But if Jopson says he's out here for a reason and alright with being so, and more importantly that he isn't alone, then James will accept the answer for now. With one last addendum, anyway.

"But should your situation change, or there is something that you do require assistance with, you need only ask."

"Of course, Captain. Thank you, sir." He inclines his head. "I will say the same offer extends to you, should you find yourself in need of assistance. Miss Earp and I would be happy to have you, if you ever need it."

He tries to be polite, tries to not be nervous, but it's strange how Fitzjames, out of all the others, is the one that makes him go right back to his place on Terror.

"Is Miss Earp the person you live with?" He remembers Jopson mentioning a roommate who's a woman, so the question is mostly rhetorical and followed up quickly with a light comment. "Once tensions have lessened, I'd like to make her acquaintance." Mostly because he's very curious about what sort of person Jopson might be living with.

"She is."

And he laughs to himself. "She is - quite a formidable woman, Captain. The first time I met her, I had to sew patches in her denims. She said they were intentionally torn!"

"Intentionally? Why; is that the fashion where she's from?" It's his best guess for why such a thing would be done, since there's likely no practical reason for it, and James is both very amused and very curious about this. He can also only imagine what Jopson's reaction might've been upon realizing her clothes were not only in such a state, but in such a state purposefully.

"I believe so. In which case, I am quite glad to know that over a century is between us and intentionally damaged clothing as fashion," he remarks with a small smile, allowing himself the luxury of lighthearted amusement.

"She's from far later than us, then? I've met only a few here who from a time before we are." And it's something he's wondered about, if there's some sort of pattern there, but he doesn't know enough people here to be certain of that.

"She is," he agrees. "Though I haven't had much chance to ask her about what her world is like. I suppose I'm a little afraid of knowing how much things have changed."

He doesn't want to face that future because he doesn't know his own place in it.

"It is somewhat overwhelming." There's always a period of playing catch-up after an expedition, particularly during one that's been relatively isolated from the world for whatever reason. But that's nothing like this, where it isn't just a few years of minor technological and cultural changes, but nearly two centuries of advancements. It seems like almost everything they know has changed, at least to some extent.

But as overwhelming as that is, it's also somewhat exciting. Even if they'd survived their expedition, there's so much they can experience and learn here that they never would've had the opportunity to see, simply due to the sheer amount of time that would've had to pass. For everything they've lost, an entirely new world has opened up to them to explore.

Provided a bunch of forest cultists don't kill them all, anyway.

"I spoke with some of the others about the devices that activate in the Aurora, but I can't say I retained all of the explanations I received." He says it lightly, offering a small grin sideways at Jopson. "Have you heard about radios?"

"I have!" he says with much more enthusiasm. Like most of the men they sailed with, Thomas was scientifically minded. He didn't have much time to do the research, but he learned. Crozier taught him what he could, even from a distance.

And so he wants to know more.

"What did you hear?"

"Primarily that it can be used to send detailed information great distances over short spans of time." Which, of course, is unspeakably practical. But more humorously, on top of that--

"I presume it would entirely eliminate the need to use flag code, which would surely disappoint some, but I can't say I'd miss attempting to decipher it."

Thomas suppresses a laugh.

"I think the ones who would be disappointed are the ones who enjoy puzzles more than they do the message received."

He can name a few off the top of his head.

"Precisely, and although I won't begrudge someone their puzzles, this particular one tends to cause unnecessary confusion and delays." He has no patience for having to do this sort of thing when it's a barrier to important information, which may be slightly ironic considering James had often taken on the role of translator during various expeditions and does recognize this is basically the same thing. But still.

Thomas' smile deepens even more, as if he's seeing the Captain for the first time. "I believe it does. But think of the information that could be brought back and forth. The stories one can tell."

Said with all the innocence in the world. They're just walking and talking.

So very innocent. There's surely no motive behind mentioning how easy it would be to tell stories, and James definitely doesn't take the bait knowingly but entirely willingly, speaking with a tone of affected wistfulness.

"Even his determined refusal to dine with myself and Sir John that first overwintering would not have spared Francis my dinner conversations."

Is James still slightly oblivious to the idea that it wasn't only Francis who found him annoying at those dinners? Maybe. Mostly. At least he knows he was annoying to Francis though, which is something, right? Right.

Thomas nods solemnly. "You would have reached every corner of the map," he insists, his nods turning more intent. "No one would be able to avoid it."

He grins.

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it must be that old evil spirit

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