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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"I don't trust anyone." That wasn't strictly true but Rorschach's paranoia often made it hard to let his guard down around people whether mentally or physically. Still, he doubted there was much harm a one-handed man could do, especially when he was in such a vulnerable state himself.

He slowly removed some of the many layers he wore, neatly folding them up and putting them to the side. Surprisingly, for someone living in such freezing cold temperatures, he was lightly clad compared to what kind of clothing most people in such a situation would have been wearing. But Rorschach could be both ridiculously tough and stubborn at the same time, which meant he was always 'fine' even when in the middle of icy temperatures like those found in Milton. Growing up in a home situation that had more than one time left him literally stranded outside in the snow when his mother locked him out had also been a factor.

As he pulled off the last top layer (but still keeping on his face), it became apparent that he'd done a lot of fighting over his lifetime. Not only did he have an extremely muscular build along the lines of a boxer, there were scars littered everywhere from stab wounds, being shot, and even from breaking his bones. There was a rather bad one on his chest left by a bullet that had a corresponding one when he turned his back to put down the piece of clothing. It had healed in a very messy manner that suggested he hadn't been able to seek out proper medical care when the injury had initially occurred.

A scarred body for undoubtedly a scarred man. He seems to be some years removed from Crozier's own age, but the medical care shows an almost basic level of understanding -- or perhaps capacity for care.

He stares just a beat or two longer before he looks away, giving the man the privacy that he deserves. The part that's most intrigued with, his face, isn't likely to be exposed to the frigid air.

"I understand not giving trust to strangers," he remarks quietly. "It should be earned."

"Only found one person who earned it from me." His partner back home, Nite Owl. Even then it had taken years for Rorschach to fully feel like the man was someone he could rely on for just about anything, whether that was someone to watch his back in a fight or to let him sleep without worries on the nights he was too exhausted to make it back to his own home.

Too uncomfortable to go fully nude, even in the presence of another man, Rorschach opted for keeping on a pair of swim trunks he'd found scrounging around in one of the houses. It would make him feel less on edge about the situation when he finally entered the water, which he soon did.

There was a small sound more like a growl than a sigh from him but it still represented that even he wasn't immune to the pleasant effects of the hot springs. As a bonus for everyone who had to be near him, it meant he was finally bathing again on a (somewhat) regular basis and didn't stink nearly as bad as when he'd first arrived.

He can't argue with self-preservation. He wonders if that's why he wears the mask.

Crozier continues to give him some privacy, averting his eyes until he's sunk up to his chest in the hot water of the spring.

"It's good for the joints," he remarks, his own eyes closing. At this point in his life if he's killed whilst sitting in a hot spring he'd be fine with it. A quieter end than most got.

"Why the mask?"

If he fell asleep, Rorschach wasn't going to complain. Sometimes, it felt like the cold was unending and he never was able to feel warm anymore. He answered Crozier's question in a gruff tone.

"Why not?"

Yes, he was being difficult about this, but he couldn't help it. Everyone was always talking about his face, which was understandable, but it didn't mean he liked telling the same reasons for it over and over again. At this rate, he was going to just give a summary of it and post the paper on the message board so he could just direct newcomers to it instead of having to go over his reasoning time and again.

Yes, yes, they all wear masks everyday, no one ever knows a person's true self, etc. Crozier just smiles a little and doesn't press. A man's allowed to have his secrets and not explain himself to every passerby he encounters, even if it strikes him as odd.

"Same reason I grew the beard, I gather."

Well. That, and it's difficult to shave in the Arctic tundra.

Honestly, he found the former captain easier to talk to than some here. He asked questions but didn't press, something someone as private as Rorschach could value.

"Wanted to change?" That was what he surmised Crozier was talking about. For Rorschach, it had been about wanting to see a different face than he one he saw in the mirror every day, one he could stand to look at more.

Crozier shakes his head. "Wanted to huk-kah-hoi..." He mimics reaching into his mouth and pulling out -- what? His tongue? His soul? He holds his hand out and lets the invisible thing flutter into the air. "Disappear."

He wonders if that's why he'd wear the mask. The old self disappearing, a new self reappearing in its stead? "Facial hair like this is uncommon where I'm from."

Despite the odd gesture, Rorschach thought he got it. "Understand that. Did so with this." He gestured to his face. When he'd been in New York, it was his regular, human face that made him blend into the crowd. Just another crazy homeless man no one cared enough to look at, their eyes sliding right on by. Here, he'd abandoned that entirely and retreated entirely into his shell as a vigilante. There was no need for his humanity anymore or so he'd convinced himself.

"Where and when?" Rorschach asked for clarification. He'd only just begun to realize people here were from different times on Earth and even from different worlds.

'Where' is a normal question, 'when' is not. Crozier doesn't bat an eye.

"King William Island, by way of England and Ireland before." He seems a clever man, this stranger with a mask, he's sure to understand where King William Island is. "Last I celebrated a new year was in 1845."

Indeed, Rorschach was brighter than his eccentricities would lead a casual viewer to initially believe. He had a good enough grasp of geography to know where Crozier was talking about. While the years didn't match up at all, this was the first person Rorschach had encountered who had been closest to the area most people hypothesized Milton to be in.

He thought that over, making a note to investigate further. "Think it's far from here? Assuming this isn't Hell." He still wasn't sure they weren't all in some weird level of Hell where the Devil was watching them all for his own amusement.

Crozier chuckles softly. It’s a very big assumption.

There was magic in the Arctic Circle — incredible, horrifying things that lurked behind pressure ridges and in the whistle of the fierce gale winds. It would be no surprise to him if there was a connection to the two places, this little town and broken islands they left their bodies scattered upon.

“This isn’t so far off from where I was living. Judging solely by the amount of daylight and the local fauna, we’re a lot further south.”

Somewhere nearby must lie Great Slave Lake, his destination for the walkout. This inhospitable territory for most would have been their salvation —- it certainly feels more lush and plentiful than his current home.

Rorschach nodded slowly, filing the information away so he could later write it down within his journal. The riddle of this place was something he was working off and on in his spare time. He figured it wasn't going to be solved anytime soon, so having a slow, methodical approach was the way to go if he wanted to figure out the riddle of how they'd all been brought to Milton.

"Makes you best-prepared one in town," Rorschach remarked. Far better than him, who had arrived in dress shoes that got soaked through with snow the first time he'd taken a step.

And how strangely punitive that feels, to be the best-prepared once more in an environment so few of them understand. He's not in any position to lead here, so his advice might go just as unheeded if he was free with it.

"I suppose so," he replies quietly. "If I had more of my equipment I could possibly chart our coordinates."

Rorschach took a little more notice of what Crozier had to say. "What kind of equipment?"

He was a scrounger by nature, a talent he'd developed over long years of being just one step above homelessness, and it was easier for him to find things that people needed here in Milton than it was for others.

Crozier grunts softly and pushes his hand through his now-damp hair.

“I might be able to tell how far north we are through magnetic declination, but the instrument is notoriously fickle and not readily available.” It isn’t as though one can just find a dip circle lying about.

Rorschach listened, though he wasn't even sure just what Crozier was talking about. Needless to say, he thought whatever it was currently wasn't lying in one of the many houses in Milton.

"Can find a lot. But not that." Even his abilities to find things had its limits.

“I didn’t think so. But a proper compass and a sextant could do wonders for getting our bearings.”

Not as precise a measurement he’d be able to make with a dip circle, but it could still tell them latitude.

If there’s anything here to actually measure.

"Compass. Hm." He thought that over. A piece of equipment he expected a number of people in town would have had somewhere in their homes. Maybe even one of the stores if they all hadn't been completely picked over by this point in time. "Easier to find."

"I'd be grateful if let me borrow whatever you find," he replies. He can't imagine that there wouldn't be a single compass in this place.

Rorschach nodded. "Will do." He had no real use for a compass himself. He never went so far into the forest that he couldn't find his way back out again. It would give him a purpose for the next few days searching out to see if he could find anything Crozier could use.

Then he settled back into the water, happy to lapse into silence and let himself simply soak there.

Crozier's equally as happy to let the conversation end there and enjoy the hot spring in easy silence. It's not the worst company he's had yet -- that would be Cornelius Hickey, who tried to touch him and definitely did some uncomfortable staring.

Eventually he'll get up to leave Rorschach to enjoy the spring without company, giving him a single nod and then slipping away with frost in his beard.

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nature offers a violence

cw: child abuse and neglect mention, graphic scars mention

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