methuselah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
singmod) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
singillatim2023-11-09 04:18 pm
singmod) wrote in singillatim2023-11-09 04:18 pm
Entry tags:
- *event,
- alluri rama raju: xil,
- bigby wolf: jelle,
- cornelius hickey: kates,
- dean winchester: verna,
- edward little: jhey,
- harry goodsir: karin,
- jack kline: jean,
- jason mcconnell: balsam,
- kate marsh: cheryl,
- kieren walker: cheryl,
- knives: lassie,
- la'an noonien-singh: amy,
- levi jordan: cirape,
- louis de pointe du lac: tea,
- max mayfield: jean,
- rei ayanami (ii): floral,
- rorschach: shade,
- thomas jopson: kota,
- tim drake: fox,
- vash the stampede: fen,
- vash the stampede: fyn,
- wynonna earp: lorna
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
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.
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.
1. The hot springs will now be a permanent fixture in the Milton Area, enjoy!
cw: reference to STI medicine... in the 1700s
Moving about in various social strata, his accent tends to be a little toned down when speaking with out-of-towners, and he doesn't oscillate between English, French, and Creole like he usually does. All that is for the home team.
"Please, I'm not that old. I had electricity and a telephone, thank you very much, sir. You don't hear me complainin' about havin' the 'vapors' and the Royal Navy and my splendid muttonchops, do you?"
He mimes said muttonchops where they would be on his face. Age is not determined by the year one comes from anymore, not in Milton, but he can't resist the joke.
"Try 1940. We just had New Year's and an early Mardi Gras, war's on since last year but we ain't in it, and we don't put quicksilver on certain maladies that affect certain parts of the body." He read that in a pirate book once.
God damnit, why does he always think of last Mardi Gras... a horror of his own making. He represses it with his smile.
no subject
He'd look terrible with muttonchops, though a part of March really wants to see it.
"1940. Get outta here. I was born in 1940s."
March is dimly aware something's changed and shifted in the other's face, but he doesn't know the other well enough to pick it up or comment on it: for as incompetent as he is, sometimes his detective instincts kick into gear. But right now he's enjoying his smoke and soaking in the water with a pretty cool guy, so fuck it.
"What's it like?"
cw: reference to homophobia
Louis puts on the affectation of being normal with years of practice. Even before becoming a vampire, he honed his skill at hiding. He could not be openly gay. Even when he felt it was safe to loosen the curtain, he endured all manner of veiled threats and open slights.
"You ask a guy what his normal life is like... Well, I miss my books. Fiction and poetry, mostly." He doesn't take March for a reading man, so he glosses past that. "I miss my records. You like jazz? classical? I miss my car," he continues, because an answer isn't so important to him as just saying these things, "I miss the warm weather of course, smell of the trees, and evenin' walks in Jackson Square. Bands playin' in the streets..."
His eyes mist over like a gossamer fog rolling in from the sea.
no subject
His cigarette's almost done so he'll reach over to tap some of the ash out, clinging to it desperately and smoking it to the butt like it's a roach.
"I like rock. Funk. Earth Wind and Fire--they've got that September song that's real groovy. Makes you wanna boogie, have a drink."
Something's up, though. The other guy looks pretty homesick. Wrong line of questioning? March tilts his head to the side.
"Hey. Speaking of drink, I'm workin' on something. 'Hooch.'"
no subject
"Well shit, here I thought I would be your premium source of booze."
Now he feels like an asshole. Still, there are the cigarettes to be got.
"Funk's a whole thing now, is it?" Louis can only guess by the name, but it might be a child of jazz. Rock, well, that's probably named after a sex thing, he thinks. Only one thing people do when they "rock."
"We got to find some records in town." He gestures with his diminishing cigarette vaguely in that direction. "I want to know what happens when they put too much funk in it."
Trick question. There's never too much funk.
no subject
It's when the other mentions music--records--that he snapping his fingers and pointing at Louis in a gesture that flings water near him in his enthusiasm.
"Yeah. We're all gonna fucking die here, right? It's a matter of time. Why can't we do that with the Bee Gees? That's what I don't get. No one deserves to live without disco, that's cruel and unusual punishment."
no subject
Not that Louis is a stranger to dark thoughts. He contemplates his existence much more now that he's been made immortal. He wanted Lestat to tell him of anything he knew of their vampiric origins. Louis sought the purpose of their existence. For a while he even tried to come up with his own, but the line between hunting evildoers and murdering victims for blood was thin.
"Well, when it's ready, you let me know. I'd like to taste your vintage, even if it's shit, and put on a record. Fine way to christen your entry into the apocalypse."
no subject
It's something to look forward to. March can dig it. He hadn't realized just how much he needed something like that, either: a simple promise to see it through until at least then.