singillatim | NPC Interaction: Marra

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NPC Interaction: Marra

JULY 2025 — NPC INTERACTION: MARRA

The Interlopers meet Marra, the Lighthouse Keeper at the end of the world.

WHEN: July.
WHERE: Silverpoint Lighthouse, Silverpoint.
CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A.

MARRA

Interlopers who drop by the Frozen Angler to see Molly and Jace will find them a little bewildered. They will tell Interlopers that someone wants to see them: Marra. They’ll direct them to the lighthouse, where they’ll find her.

To the south east stands Silverpoint Lighthouse. It should be nothing out of the ordinary, lighthouses are a common sight on coastlines, after all. However, Interlopers will note that there is certainly someone occupying the lighthouse and it will become glaringly obvious that the flashing light they have seen in the darkness of the night is actually coming from the lighthouse. In a world without power, it is a startling sight to see.

And for plenty of Interlopers, they will want to investigate.

If they ask around Silverpoint before heading there, villagers seem to hold a kind of uneasy respect for Marra. They seem to regard her with slight trepidation, and would prefer not to get involved with her. They will explain to Interlopers that they cannot explain why the lighthouse works, and admit they rarely ever seen the woman but explain that Marra does seem to be on the lookout for ships, and has done her work well over the years and are in some part grateful for her keeping the light going — it may mean that those on the mainland may finally realise that people are out here, and they might send help.

Eventually, Interlopers may finally go and approach the lighthouse. When they knock on the door, there will be a long wait before they get a response: the door opening a crack and a woman with long, grey hair will peek out at them. Her face is weathered, and she may look to be somewhere in her late fifties, or early sixties — and there’s something familiar about her that’s hard to place. Her mouth forms a thin line as she scrutinises the Interlopers for a long moment.

“You’re new.” she utters, regarding them with suspicion. “You’re the ones who came down from Milton, right?”

She will silently absorb any introductions, nodding a little. But if Interlopers mention Milton, she’ll stare for a long moment, and you’re sure you can see some kind of horror in her eyes, and some kind of short lived ache too. But the moment passes and steps back slightly — allowing the Interlopers inside.

The main room of the interior of the lighthouse is a wide, circular room and the living space. The place is well lived-in, and cosy. It’s clear the lighthouse is not simply a place of work, but also this woman’s home. There isn’t much space for a huge number of people. A single armchair sits by the woodstove fire, and while there is a small dining table with a couple of chairs, the woman simply shrugs it off and tells Interlopers to sit where they can. Or don’t. Whatever. Interlopers will also notice an elderly orange cat snoozing on the armchair, so that chair is definitely out.

“Well, if there’s to be introductions: I’m Marra. Just Marra is fine, thank you. I’m the lighthouse keeper at the end of the world.” There’s a grim smile, “And you have some explaining to do.”

She has questions.

“The ones who came here two years ago could barely speak, and they don’t speak now. I can get blood out of a stone easier than answers out of them.” she explains. “So that leaves you: what happened in Milton?”

Marra will be open to questions from Interlopers, but she will want information of her own from the Interlopers too.

Before they leave, Marra will ask one thing of Interlopers: if they try to get to the Cannery she asks them to look for any shortwave handheld radios and to bring them to her. She will explain that she’s been picking up frequencies on her own radio during Auroras but is unable to investigate them further.

FAQs

1. This is an NPC Interaction with your new NPC, Marra. While a larger group of Interlopers may be present, this is a limited and short-thread interaction, available for up to 5 players. Threads are set at a six comment max totally: three from your character, three from Marra.

2. Characters are free to ask anything, but we ask that players don’t take liberties and list off twenty questions, for example. Keep it short and sweet, please!

3. The plotting post can be found here.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Unfortunately, Ulfrùn is sniffing at that orange cat almost immediately, so the seat may free up soon enough.

“We know very little about what happened in Milton,” Randvi says, a bit surprised but not displeased at the woman’s intensity. “When our people began arriving, everyone who was in Milton when the calamity befell it was already dead. We were shown visions once of people killing one another, and many succumbed to the elements on the road to Silverpoint. Methuselah lives, if you know him, but he says that he was not in Milton when it happened. I understand that you can see it here, when the sky goes dark and the Darkwalker comes. Do you know if that happened back then?”

"Mate, I've got no clue what you're talking about," Hickey points out, with a little shrug. What happened in Milton? That's the question on everybody's mind. "I arrived here...what, a year and a half ago? Woke up in the woods, made my way to a deserted town, been surviving ever since."

He'll answer her questions but Hickey has a few of his own as well. His demeanor is casual, as he leans against the wall, acting very much like he owns the place (though he is absolutely giving that cat the stink-eye. Don't bother him, he won't bother you.)

"Emphasis on surviving. Every other month there's some nonsense. Animals trying to kill us, poisonous fog, monsters attacking people in their sleep. You get those here as well? Or are we just lucky?"

Spaghetti is not going to entertain Ulfrùn at all, hissing moodily at the dog: back off, kiddo.

Marra eyes the two animals warily for a moment as she listens. Her expression is grave and she wipes at her brow for a moment — it's not exactly the kind of answer she had hoped for. "So, you folks just show up after? That's what you're telling me? I'd figured it was bad but... killing one another?" she asks. "Yeah, I know Methuselah. Not all surprised the man's still going. I'm guessing he was out on his ventures when things went down."

Which Marra is also not surprised about, in all honesty.

"It's hard to even describe that night, even now. It was like— the sky was wrong. Filled with light, almost blinding. Like it tore open. There were a lot of colours, not just the green that's been happening." her eyes close for a moment as she tries to picture it and she shakes her head. "It was like the end of the world, and then— it was over. Like nothing had ever happened. Everything went so... still."

Ah, Marra knows that one. The arrogance of youth. She eyes Hickey with her arms folded across her chest, looking faintly amused at the man.

"Deserted towns often come with a bit more description than that." she says plainly, eyebrows raising. "I'm sure you can muster up a bit more than that. Was the place on fire? Were there bodies? Calamity? Given the fact your arrival here times up pretty well with shit going down."

Sounds awfully suspicious, right? Her head tilts back slightly and she frowns at him for a moment before nodding to his questions.

"We've had our fair share of problems here. Wildlife being far more volatile, weather that's almost supernatural — like we're living in a disaster movie, things like that."

Ulfrùn pulls away at the hiss but keeps dancing around, play-bowing. She would love to be chased! (This is not going to happen)

Randvi nods, solemn. “Yes. I was not with the first group, but I've heard about it. They arrived to find bodies in the streets, and only Methuselah alive. They gave the bodies there a burial according to the Christian tradition.” It is important to let Marra know that they were honoured, in case she had known any of them.

“Did it seem as if the sky had been pulled together when it ended? Last summer when the sun did not come out, some of us saw a person end it. She seemed to tear the sky open, or perhaps a veil over the sky.”

Another question occurs to her. “None of the survivors from Milton have been able to offer any information about what happened there?” Midsummer had been horrible, but they can still speak of it.

It is absolutely not gonna happen, Ulfrùn. Spaghetti is eyeing daggers right now.

"... Thank you." Marra is visibly moved by Randvi's words, and her head dips. Processing, grieving. She takes a few moments, turning and wandering around the circular room, like she doesn't know what to do with herself. "The people of Milton are— were good people. Hardworking. Stubborn.

"The Mainland didn't give a shit about towns like Milton. They took what they wanted from this place and gave us nothing in return. They told us if things got bad: go to the Coast and help will come. I've been looking at that horizon for nearly two years and I haven't seen shit."

And yet a bunch of strangers turned up and tried to make things right best they could. Marra takes a breath to steady herself before she turns curiously to look at Randvi.

"No, this was like—" her hands raise and she makes a motion, almost like she's gathering something to her chest. "I don't know. It's hard to describe something impossible. ... You said a person tore open the sky last year? How?"

Marra sighs, frustrated.

"No. Or nothing of any detail. They're vague, or they just don't want to speak at all. Like they'd rather just want to forget." she explains. "... Maybe I'd wanna forget it if I were in Milton, too."

Hickey rolls his eyes before, "Deserted is good enough. Houses were there. Goods. Clothes. But no people. It's like they all up and left."

There's a moment before Hickey asks, "Does the supernatural include the Darkwalker?"

Clair Spoilers inevitable

She had been eyeing the lighthouse since she caught sight of it on the horizon on her way to Silverpoint. Finally, a lighthouse that was just a lighthouse and not also a murderous serpent terrorizing the sea and sky. It's a relief. And with the thought that the lighthouse keeper might even be willing to talk, she's more than happy to oblige if it means she gets to see the place for herself.

She doesn't sit with Marra's offer, instead she wanders a little her eye looking about in awe and wonder. Even if this is just a living space, she's still intrigued by it. With Marra's question she looks back to the elder with some remorse. "I'm sorry," she says with an apologetic rasp that's even worse than her usual hoarse words. "I really just arrived here. I'm honestly still getting to know the place." Which is why she immediately left to go explore at the first opportunity. All Milton seems to carry is the weight of death.

Her eye peeks up, wondering, though her request comes with some hesitation. "Could I.. go up and see?" It's the tallest thing around that isn't a snow-capped and deadly mountain. Surely you could see everything from up there and part of her just needs to know.

Randvi gives the woman a sympathetic look. “You’ve heard nothing? We have been wondering whether anyone out there is still alive.”

She’s always believed that this island is all that remains, but it's more of a feeling than anything concrete.

“Yes. The woman Enola, she appeared before me with her hands covered in blood and seemed to tear the sky asunder. There were lights, as you’ve said, but I fell unconscious and once I’d awakened again the sky was as it had been before the Darkwalker had come.”

If she’d known Methuselah perhaps this woman knows Enola as well.

Randvi gestures above their heads. “How did you get your lamp to work? Do other devices work here as well?”

"What else? End of the world," Rorschach says in response to her question, standing up, and looking a bit awkward with his gloved hands shoved deep into his pockets rather than sitting down anywhere.

He pulls his journal out and flips through a few pages. "Have a bit more in here." Though that depends on if Marra can read his atrocious handwriting.

"Yeah. No shit, Sherlock." There's little venom in it, more tired bemusement than anything else. Marra sighs heavily, wiping at her face with one hand. But she looks up at the journal being produced. She holds out her hand, wanting to read it. "I'll take it. Anything is better than nothing."

She is a woman starved of answers. She's absolutely going to try and read it.

"And I'm pretty sure it's really 'the world' and not just the Northern Territories." she adds. "This place has been dying a slow death for a long time, anyways."

Marra's been eyeing the girl carefully as she wanders around the room to inspect it. Her gaze lingers a little too long on the girl's face, something quiet and sad in her expression. Her answer is not one that Marra hopes to hear and she sighs softly. But— it's something. It's not nothing.

"I've spoken with people who've been here a while. You're saying people keep coming here?" she asks her.

The request isn't one Marra expects, though. She pauses for a long moment before some faint kind of amusement flutters over her face, huffing out a small laugh. Well—

"Sure. I'm coming with you, though." she agrees with a nod, grabbing a coat. "I don't want you getting knocked over the railings by some gust of wind."

Pulling on her coat, she'll lead the way — gesturing with an tilt of her head for the girl to follow her up the staircase.

"They tried to." Marra says, and her lips are a thin line for a moment as she looks away. But she's looking up again at Hickey's question.

"Ah, yes." Marra sighs, her voice then dropping to a dramatic whisper. "The boogeyman. Or close enough to it. We've all grown up with stories of the Darkwalker here. But it's only ever been that. Stories."

The Abomination. The Devourer. The Ending of Everything. Their Apocalypse.

"And then every so often over the last almost-two years, the sky goes green and the stars and moon go out and everyone goes running into their holes like frightened rabbits and after it's all over— they whisper about it being the Darkwalker being not just a story after all."

Marra's eyebrows raise.

"But I'm guessing you already know about that."

"I get signals, on occasion. Emergency broadcasts, mostly. But nothing. No one is coming. Whatever happened here, I can only suspect the Mainland got it worse. For all we know, the entire world is down."

Marra's quiet as she listens. The name isn't one she recognises, but her expression is grave as Randvi describes what happened. She's thoughtful for a long time, but says nothing — startling out of it when Randvi asks about—

"The lighthouse?" 'The lamp' is a funny way of describing it, and the workings of a smile are at the corners of her lips but it comes out as a grimace more than anything. "It's... complicated. I don't really know how to explain it."

Marra exhales, clasping her hands together, trying to find a way to.

"Everything broke down two years ago, the lights went out and the world went silent. But... for some reason I can keep this place going. I'm in here and the light still shines, and I don't know why."

She spreads her hands out, looking at them.

"I don't know if it's because of everything that's happening, or what. I've been in this Lighthouse for twenty three years. At this point, it's... all I know. I'm good at fixing things but I can't fix everything."

Le Spoilers

She nods to Marra's question. "I've only been here a few weeks, I guess." Admittedly, she hasn't really paid attention to how much time is passing. The calendar she was told about is all kinds of wrong, anyway.

With the agreement she smiles widely, warping her scars. There's no need to tell her twice and she's already at Marra's heels, eager to see what can be seen. "The auroras must be beautiful from the top." It's more assumption than question. "Do you spend a lot of time up there?"

"A few weeks, huh." Marra's thoughtful, frowning as they head up. "How often do people arrive?"

The winding stairs take them past more of Marra's living space, where she sleeps on one floor, another takes them past ample amounts of storage — crates and chests and tool boxes. It's clear it's well stocked, or that she's been here for a long time.

"The Aurora's... something alright." The woman doesn't really know how to pass judgement on it. She shrugs easily at the question. "On clear days, I keep an eye on the horizon for boats, ships, tankers." The smile drops. "I haven't seen any."

On the top floor, the spiral staircase ends and there's a wooden ladder than leads to a trapdoor — the lantern room. Marra goes first, heaving the heavy wood. It's colder up here, far from the fire below and more open to the winds of the Coast. Even in the daylight, the light is still blaring.

"Well, here she is."

The ice stretches far out onto the sea, but it breaks off eventually. No land can be seen on the horizon. To the east, the curve of the land of the island, the far, thick woods of Lakeside. To the north and west, the endless stretches of frozen tundra and looming mountains. Marra points out the tallest of them all.

"Timberwolf Mountain. There's a little settlement in its shadow on the muskeg called Mountain's Watch. Whoever lives there hasn't reached out to us, though."

"I'm.. I'm not sure. With the Aurora, maybe? Yeah, I think it's with the Auroras, sometimes." She's trying her best to have helpful answers, but unfortunately for Marra, she is far too new to have a solid grasp of the workings of this place.

She's clearly eager to be at the top, beaming at all the places Marra points out to her. There's a silent "wow" that seems to permanently reside on her face. The journey to Silverpoint felt like such a long trek, but from up here it seems so short.

At the mention of yet another settlement she seems surprised. From all she recalls of what others have said, none have mentioned Mountain's Watch. "How do you get to Mountain's Watch from here?" She'd love to see even more places.

Marra frowns, thoughtful. After a long pause, she says: "There was a little girl who came with the Aurora, once. It was a long time ago, now."

She doesn't dwell on it. The girl's joy is endearing to her, and Marra finds herself smiling — something kind and fond. At the question, however, she sucks in a breath.

"It's a long walk. A hard one, even before the lights went out. There's no roads up that way, like there is between Silverpoint and Milton." she says as she nods in that direction. "I don't even know if the way is open. They get cut off by the snow in the winter, but I don't know what this weather means for them."

Maybe they're cut off for good. Marra doesn't know.

"Considering it's killed six of our number, yeah, I do."

Hickey doesn't exactly know how to parse this out—if Marra feels that the Darkwalker is actually real or if she thinks it's just something that people are telling themselves to explain away the strange and unusual. But no matter. He knows what he saw. And he's not going to waste time trying to convince a doddering old woman that he's right.

Instead, he looks out of the window, out towards the open ocean as he asks, "You must have binoculars, yeah? You must have something. Seen any ships out there? Or hell, any signs of life in general?"

It's obvious he's hoping the answer is 'yes.'

He taps the page where she should start. The handwriting will take a while to figure out, but after squinting for a bit, the letter shapes start to stand out more. Fortunately, this part of his journal is deliberately just for trying to figure out Milton and all its secrets, so he's not worried about Marra reading anything personal. He goes on. "Kept detailed notes on this place. Answers when they have come. Trying to make connections." He's had limited success with that but Rorschach is nothing if not persistent. The story of Milton as he's been witness to throughout the almost two years he's been here is detailed as best as he's been able to make it out.

Once he's let her read for a bit, he's got some questions of his own that he wants answered. Rorschach is never one to mince words, so he just gets right down to it. "Why are you still alive?"

Arthur isn't in the vicinity of fucking around. If she's looking for answers, maybe they can damn well trade.

"We're still working on that part," he says flatly. "There’s no denying now that somehow Enola is key to it, but from what any single person can tell we just don't have enough pieces yet."

His hands go to his jacket pockets. "Is she holding back the Darkwalker? Or is something larger using her as a front, o-or a scapegoat?"

"Weird it's so particular." Marra crosses her arms. "The general idea is that it kills off the entire world population."

There's no need to convince her, she's pretty much convinced given everything. At least she's had some time to reconcile with the fact the Darkwalker isn't just a story. Two years is a long time, especially when you're toughing it out after the world's gone silent.

Her mouth twists to the side and she follows his gaze out of the window.

"No, nothing." she answers. "Been watching that horizon for twenty three years and I'd seen it all. You get used to the shipping lanes, the fishing boats, the regulars and which countries they're from. Canadian. American. Russian. Norwegian. Danish."

She inhales, shaking her head.

"But for two years? Nothing. Whatever's happened here, I think it stretches further. Global, probably." Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Marra's not all that thrilled about it either. "But I'll keep watch, just in case."

"Smart." Marra comments with a nod of her head, genuinely impressed. "And helpful."

The handwriting sure is something, but she's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth and she's going to start straight away — reading quickly once she's managed to get the hang of his hand, carefully flicking through the pages. She'll look up at his question, eyebrows raised.

"A good question." Marra inhales, thoughtful for a few moments. "Believe me, this place has tried hard in the last two years. The storms, the wildlife, the weird shit. We lost a lot of people last winter when Flu broke out."

It's not to say they haven't known hardship. Sure, the Northern Territories have always known hardship but that last two years? Well, they've been a bitch. Marra's mouth breaks into a wry smile.

"But I'm guessing what you mean is: why is Silverpoint unscathed when Milton is gone?" Marra exhales, then clicks her tongue a few times before offering a shrug. "Whatever happened in Milton wasn't natural. Nobody was doing the stuff you've written here in Silverpoint. My guess: Milton's further north? And it's no stranger to weird things happening."

Fair deal, she's in.

"So we have a puzzle, great."

Marra's voice is equally flat and she shakes her head. But she's quiet as she listens, frowning thoughtfully for a few long moments. Enola...?

"You tell me. It would be helpful to know who she is." she answers, folding her arms over her chest. "One of the others mentioned her. Said she tore the sky apart and got rid of the Darkwalker's influence last year. Thing is, I've known a lot of people over the years. I don't know anyone by that name."

Arthur frowns, curiosity more than piqued.

"Our knowledge of her life before becoming this... almost godly figure is rather limited - it mostly comes through events that she's suffering through as much as any of the rest of us during the auroras." He gestures at himself. "When the aurora happens, all of us from other universes have had visions of her in our dreams, offering us powers. The ability to run forever, or not need to eat, turning into wolves or speaking to each other with only our minds. Those with the final ability often hear her crying, during the auroras."

He gestures a hand idly. "I'm from New England, so I'm not familiar with them in a general sense - were the auroras always this frequent, or- or enchanted, I suppose, before the Darkwalker appeared?"

Rorschach tilts his head a little, tipping his hat in acknowledgement. He knows most of the Interlopers think he's crazy, the way he keeps an eye on everyone and makes detailed records of things like the Interlopers that have disappeared and the ones that have died in various. But there's a method to his madness and this proves it. While he's yet to discern more than the simplest patterns, it does help to keep everything written down during moments like this, when a fresh set of eyes can take a look to see if they see anything he's missed.

"Hurm. Not cursed then," he muses to himself. Marra certainly is easier to talk to than Methuselah, who Rorschach sometimes feels is doing anything but giving him straight answers when he goes out into the wilds with the old man.

"Know what happens to Interlopers who disappear? Kept a list of them..." He flips through a few more pages, goes back, and flips through a few more until he finds a list of all those that have vanished.

"One set out into the woods year ago. Said he was going to go as far as he could. Found writings by him later on detailing his journey. Last entry mentioned how bright and close the Aurora was. Then nothing. Found only his supplies and journal afterwards."

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NPC Interaction: Marra

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