singillatim | nature offers a violence

nature offers a violence

NOVEMBER 2023 EVENT

PROMPT ONE — WHITEOUT: Methuselah makes an unexpected early return to Milton to warn Interlopers of an impending monster storm, and boy does it surely come.

PROMPT TWO — A CHOICE: Following the storm, sightings of a mysterious stag prompts a hunt down in the Basin and out in the Outskirts.

PROMPT THREE — REST MY WEARY BONES: While the storm causes a great deal of mess, it also uncovers some far more pleasant surprises. Hot springs.

WHITEOUT

WHEN: Early to mid-month.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: extreme weather; storms; blizzards; themes of survival; possible character cold-related injuries; possible themes of peril.

In the times that he is no longer occupying the Community Hall in the center of town to help tend to the newcomers, Methuselah is out in the wilds. Despite his growing age, he is a hardened survivor, and has been more than accustomed to life living as a nomad, out in the thickest, deepest parts of nature. Sometimes he can be encountered, sheltered in a cave or out in the woods, huddled by a warm campfire, or busying himself with his latest game catch. He seems to be always on the move, never staying for too long, and never coming into town — unless it’s to begin preparations for the latest batch of new arrivals.

To see him returning to Milton outside of these times is a curious sight, and the grim expression he carries is enough to make anyone wary. Even his voice is grave. The warmth and kindness usually found in his expression is gone, replaced with a deathly seriousness. He doesn’t speak in jest.

"I am long used to this world and its weather, even with the changing times to more bitter nights." he will say. "I have seen the years rise and fall, too many to count. Please, I beg that you hear me with this— a storm is coming. Greater than some of you may have ever known. It is in the air, and we must prepare to see it through. We do not have much time. Three days, perhaps. But no more."

He will tell anyone and everyone; encouraging the word to be spread around. He will instruct on what needs to be done, what needs to be gathered. The storm will be long and hard, and will last for some time. With that, Methuselah will begin to prepare the Community Hall as a place of refuge with a stock of food, fuel and water to get through the storm. Interlopers will be free to join Methuselah and bunker down together, or can choose to bunker down on their own in their own homes, or with others.

You have only three days.

And sure enough, the storm comes. Maybe you can notice the signs too: the sudden updraft, the slow gathering of clouds, the drop in temperature, the changes of pressure in the air.

Halfway through the third day, the storm rolls in: a ferocious snow-storm unlike anything you’ve seen before. Even with the fading amount of daylight as mid-winter approaches, the sky turns as dark as night as will stay like night for the duration. Strong howling winds batter the town, and even the sturdiest of buildings creak and groan under the weight. Trees will be felled, some buildings might not fare the storm.

Relentless snow that falls so hard it’s a complete whiteout, and will be impossible to navigate if one were to step outside. Even then, it isn’t advisable. The temperature is bitter, with a frigid windchill. Going out in this kind of storm would be a death sentence. Staying out in it for longer than a half-hour will certainly kill you.

It would be best to wait it out, to huddle around warm fires in the darkness. It may certainly be a test of patience, depending on your choice of place to stay. The storm will last a full week, a stark reminder of what you are, the words you have heard in your arrival: thrown to Mother Nature’s mercy, the Interloper in her design.

But will you persist?

A CHOICE

WHEN: Mid-month, onwards to end of month.
WHERE: Milton Basin, Milton Outskirts.
CONTENT WARNINGS: survival themes; themes of hunting; possible animal death.

After the storm passes, there’s a certain kind of hush that falls upon Milton and its surrounding areas as Interlopers are left to pick through the wake. While the temperature certainly doesn’t get that much warmer, there’s days and nights of clear, calm weather — short afternoons of weak sunshine and nights of chilly peace, the moon hung high in the starry skies. Winter is drawing ever-closer, but it’s still for a little while.

In the early evenings, before the sun sets, there’s strange sightings of a particular white stag that can be found roaming the area — particularly down in the Milton Basin. It seems quite elusive, but there’s plenty of Interlopers that have been able to capture a glimpse over the coming days. Even Methuselah himself has seen this beast before, remarking there has long been tall tales of a ghostly stag that roams the Northern Territories and is said to bring good fortune to those who manage to hunt it down.

Perhaps you’re a little low on luck. Perhaps you’re feeling lucky. You’re going to find that stag.

Hunting down the stag, however, will take a great deal of patience and time. You might find yourself waiting several hours to wait for it to appear. Building a snow shelter, or hunkering down in some old shack might be needed in order to keep warm. But if you’re patient enough, and able to withstand the cold for long enough — the beast will soon make an appearance.

In the dying light of the day, it is there. It’s unlike any deer you’ve seen before: tall and majestic, with thick, soft fur of brilliant white. It almost looks ghost-like in some angles, it’s an incredibly beautiful creature. But it seems to have also noticed you, just as you have noticed it. It doesn’t dart away, however. Instead it stands before you, waiting for you to act.

You have a choice: slay the creature, or let it go.

It will not move until you make your decision, holding your gaze until you raise your weapon or until you lower it and give up your hunt. But there is a consequence to either action: if you choose to kill the stag, you will be rewarded with a sizeable bounty of venison. Eating said meat will help you feel fuller for longer, and the meat will keep for far longer than any other deer slain.

However, if you choose to spare the stag, the creature will lower its head, as if bowing to you. Then, it will disappear with a swirling of powdered snow. When you return home for the evening and go to sleep, the next morning you will find a gift at the foot of your bed: a pair of deerskin boots, or a deerskin blanket. These boots are supple, tough and waterproof — allowing for a great balance of mobility and warmth. The blanket is incredibly toasty, and will provide a great deal of comfort in the long nights ahead.

REST MY WEARY BONES

WHEN: Mid-month, onwards indefinitely.
WHERE: Milton Outskirts.
CONTENT WARNINGS: n/a.

The storm has blown in plenty of snow to make traversing the area much more difficult, but there’s something else of note that comes with its passing. While the storm has brought much devastation, and some places have been buried in snow drifts, plenty of snow in areas has been blown away, uncovering otherwise lost secrets within Milton. Clouds of what looks like steam can be noted not too far from town, towards the mountains of the north.

If Interlopers head to explore the clouds, they will find old trails leading up towards the mountains. It isn’t a particularly difficult journey, for once, and they will soon discover that the storm has blown away the previously blocked access to a cave. It appears that this is the right place.

The air is warm here, pleasantly so. Warm enough that hats and mittens and coats seem a little unnecessary. One might wonder if someone lives within, and that a great fire is stoked to keep the place warm. But there’s no one in sight, no sounds of life: human, animal or otherwise. If they press on, they will discover that the cave floor is well worn with footfall: plenty of people have come here before, and the reason why is soon revealed.

The air grows even warmer, and more humid. The space opening to reveal small pools of slow-flowing water, warm water. The stone houses a natural hot spring, and following the cave out the other side will lead to another space in the rock open to the air, where there are even larger pools of warm water, perfectly sized and deep enough to bathe in. It seems that this place was frequently used by the people of Milton, where their life of hardship could be forgotten for an hour or two.

The water is pleasantly hot, and incredibly inviting. After so long in the freezing cold without modern appliances and utilities, a natural hot spring sounds like an absolute luxury.

FAQs

WHITEOUT

1. Characters are free to play around with this prompt how they want. Maybe they're dumb enough to go into the cold and get injured or sick. Maybe they're stuck in the Community Hall for the week. Fights might break out as tensions run high whilst everyone's stuck together, or maybe you're actually having a nice time.

2. For those stuck in the Community Hall: there are board games and old school textbooks stored in cupboards. There is also a piano.

3. A floorplan of the Community Hall can be found here.

A CHOICE

1. .... Yes, you can pet the ghost stag.

2. Characters will get one choice only with the ghost stag, meaning they can't keep going back to find it to get extra gifts.

3. If characters can't agree on a course of action, whoever acts first will get their gift. The second character will have a chance to try again another time.

4. If both characters agree on sparing the stag, but players want different gifts (ie. one player wants the boots and one wants the blanket), characters will get the gift the player wants their character to receive.

REST MY WEARY BONES

1. The hot springs will now be a permanent fixture in the Milton Area, enjoy!

PLOTTING POST

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Sorry, doc. He'd never learned manners and still broke into his only friend's house without permission even after knowing him for twenty years. If he wasn't going to respect Daniel's boundaries, he certainly wasn't going to do that for anyone here.

If he noticed Goodsir's surprise, he didn't bother to say anything about it. He was used to this reaction from people and preferred no one ever get too comfortable in his presence.

He nodded silently at the question, nudging the bag again towards him with a foot.

Goodsir picks up the bag and opens it, mildly apprehensive until he sees what's inside.

"My goodness," he blurts out, "you've been busy."

"Good at scavenging," Rorschach said by way of explanation. His body language more than his words showed that he took pride in his skills, the way his shoulders rolled back and he stood up straight, hands out of his pockets.

He stifled a yawn as he watched Goodsir go through what he had found. He was on one of his 'keep going until he was forced to sleep' kicks that occasionally happened. It wasn't that he didn't want to sleep, it was just that too many demons in his mind made it hard to stop for rest until his body absolutely made him.

"Well—again, thank you. This will be very helpful."

Goodsir sorts through the contents of the bag and begins organising things into piles. He does hear what sounds like a muffled yawn—difficult to discern with that unsettling mask—and looks up.

"Are you—I beg your pardon, are you all right?"

Rorschach shook his head and blinked in an attempt to focus on what Goodsir was saying. "Fine." His standard answer, which he would have given even if he was bleeding out in front of the doctor.

"Haven't slept in......" He paused for a moment, trying to work through the haze in his mind to add up the amount of time he'd been up. "....three days?" It came out as more of a question than a definitive answer, given he wasn't sure. Days started to bled together after you stayed up two or three in a row.

"Three days?" Goodsir is quite honestly aghast. "You can't go on like that, good God. What is it that's keeping you awake?"

He ran a hand over his face, rubbing at his chin for a moment as if trying to focus. "Ghosts from the past," he said as a succinct explanation. He couldn't explain it more than that. Not how when he laid down to sleep, he felt himself fall into old memories, those of people he hadn't been able to save and those he'd had to kill. Sometimes even memories of his childhood, all those horrible moments spent being raised by his mother. It was like he was right there again in the memories as if they were playing out in reality once again right in front of his eyes.

It was easier just to keep going until his body was forced to sleep than thrash around for hours on end, at least in his opinion.

Goodsir sighed softly.

"There are remedies for insomnia," he says gently. "Some are more dangerous than others, but there are those I've found here that carry little to no danger of addiction. Would you try one?"

Rorschach shook his head forcefully. "No. Fine like this."

He was most assuredly not fine.

But he was also as stubborn as the hind end of a mule, so getting him to accept help of any kind was nearly impossible. He'd prefer to drop dead in the snow before allowing anyone to lend him a hand.

Goodsir was pretty confident that he could recognise not-fine when he saw it, even if it was covered up by that unsettling mask.

"You're no good to anyone, least of all yourself, if you don't rest," he said, his voice still gentle, but with a touch more severity now. "Please, allow me to give you something. I won't force you to take it, but keep it with you to use in your own time."

"Why do you care?" Rorschach said. Alright, now he was just being a grouch because he was stubborn and petulant, partially due to his insomnia but also simply because that was his personality.

He wasn't used to anyone giving a damn about him for any reason. Most of the time, it felt like he could vanish and no one would miss him personally, only the gap that was left by not having another protector to watch out for people.

"Because it is my duty to care, as a—as a doctor," he says, faltering a little on the word—I am one no longer—but he can't think of anything else to say. And then he adds, "And because I do not like to see anyone suffer needlessly."

Rorschach couldn't think of any good arguments against that. He supposed a doctor in this place especially, with only so much he could do to relieve the suffering of others due to the limited tools at his disposal, would be especially keen to help those that he could.

Finally, there was a long, resigned sigh. He gave a wordless sign. Goodsir could help him as he saw fit.

Good, he wasn't arguing. Goodsir went to his pharmacopoeia and took out a few mild sedatives, which he sealed in an envelope before giving to Rorschach.

"Take one to start when you're ready to sleep, and see if that helps."

Rorschach nodded at the instructions, sliding the envelope into one of the many pockets that his trenchcoat possessed. (And there was a lot of them.) Would he actually take them if needed? Debatable.

But just being able to take something that was offered to him with good intentions was a big step for Rorschach, whose paranoia and distrust of everyone around him made it hard to rely on anyone but himself. Yet even he knew doing that here would eventually end up with him dead in the snow. He needed allies and so he'd trust the doctor. For now.

He didn't offer any words of thanks. That wasn't in his nature.

Goodsir wasn't really expecting a thank-you; it's enough, really, that the man took his advice. "If there's anything else you need, please ask. I shall do what I can."

"Unfortunately, will be back at some point." The words were rather fatalistic but there was a reason behind his doom and gloom. Rorschach knew all too well his tendency to run into danger without considering the cost of getting hurt until the battle was over with. Only then was the price paid. He'd need to see the doctor at some point in the upcoming months even if it didn't happen right away.

Goodsir knew that was probably true of everyone in town, and he can really only respond with a resigned nod.

"Thank you again for the supplies."

Rorschach nodded, a small start running through him at being thanked for bringing the supplies over. He was still getting used to some of the people here thanking him for the things he did without even thinking much about.

Without any other words, he turned and left, just as abrupt as when he'd first come.

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nature offers a violence

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cw: Talk of PTSD and childhood abuse

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