nature offers a violence

[singmod]

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

Comments

[fidior]

Crozier doesn't know, either. They truly are in the same place with this — but rather than be relieved by this reveal, Edward finds himself disturbed, wounded. Perhaps it's selfish of him, or weak, but he needs the captain to be the strongest, the leader, the great man that Edward Little knows he himself is not.

But then what comes.... Ah. It's something Jopson had spoken of as well, and perhaps Edward knew it was coming. Perhaps it's no surprise, given how Crozier has made it very clear he doesn't want to lead here. (Little was waiting for him all this time, he thinks, hoping he might. Jopson was angry with him for it.) To hear it confirmed hurts, and he's closing his eyes for a moment, pressing them tightly shut, as though he can't bear to even see what's in front of him. The world feels as though it's caving inwards. He cannot do this. He can't.... give up seeing Francis Crozier as his captain. How can he? If he does....

Then what is he? What is Edward Little?

Shakily, he opens his eyes again, giving a ragged exhale.

"We can still.... We can still be who we were." The words sound hollow even to him. He tries not to sound pleading, not wanting to burden Crozier, remembering Jopson's anger, how he didn't want to be referred to as 'lieutenant' anymore. Now Crozier wants to shed his position as well. Edward feels his heart racing. "We can— come together, as before. I am still loyal to you, I... do not wish to burden you, but I trust your command. I trust you."

[goingtobeunwell]

He trusts his command! Why, why, Christ, why. But he doesn't know, does he? He doesn't know how terribly he'd failed them all, or why each time he's called Captain or be looked to for leadership would feel like some kind of cruel joke. He hasn't told him, and promised he wouldn't.

"We will come together on this," he agrees quietly, because it's the most he can muster. "And we can remain the men we were, underneath the uniform and away from the Admiralty."

Crozier gestures softly out towards the rest of the Community Center, the people within, bustling about just trying to keep themselves warm and the storm at bay. "Civilians, all. They don't need officers or rank."

[fidior]

Slowly, Edward's eyes open again, but only so that he may stare mournfully at the wooden floors beneath his boots. It feels as though the ground is crumbling beneath him. Something he has feared, dreaded, finally come to light. He is the only one still holding onto what he once was. (And isn't it familiar? Hadn't he been one of the last, before? Had it helped anyone, truly...? All he knows is regret.)

But.... he'd thought this place could be something else. Not a second chance, exactly, but a way for him to... do better. Be better.

Of course he will not go against Crozier, but there have been times he has presented question to his captain when he didn't understand an order. Not that Crozier is ordering him to do anything now, but a certain degree of respect and hierarchy can't be shed by him; he doesn't want to offend the other man, and so is careful, body language submissive as he speaks.

"Forgive me for speaking so freely. But I thought perhaps.... that the people of this place seeing us, with our rank... our uniforms... it might be helpful to them. Give them stability, make them feel... secure. That we could do good that way. That I could do good... I..." A pause, and he's uncomfortable voicing this, but it comes, miserably.

"I do not know what else to do."

[goingtobeunwell]

He doesn't know how make Little understand without admitting to the true breadth of the expedition's failure. Doing good outside of the uniform is the only way forward now for him; he'd given it all up for good when he turned his back on Ross.

"You're not the only one," he admits, just as free with his words. He spends most of his time thinking about just what he's supposed to do here and how much he'll be able to handle, mentally-speaking.

"What brought us together before as a crew doesn't exist, and what kept us together didn't work in the end. We fractured whilst in the uniform. What makes us men, what keeps us true -- that's what will serve us and them.

"You can give them stability, Edward, uniform or no uniform. Can't you see that?"

[fidior]

'You're not the only one.' Again, a reminder of the particular burden that Crozier bears — and how Little may be one of the few who can truly grasp the severity of it, although certainly never the true scope as the captain, himself. But he tries, to grasp onto that sameness, to make himself like Crozier, to feel the way he feels about all of this. To get to the mindset where he doesn't need to keep wearing this uniform, where he can become.... something else, perhaps something even better-suited to this place.

He listens to the words the older man is saying and he tries to see it. Crozier is right, of course; the uniforms, the ranks, none of it had mattered in the end. They fell apart.

But... he doesn't know how to do it otherwise. How to lead or guide or assist without being.... First Lieutenant Edward Little. What rules does he follow? What guidance does he offer? He knows he is not truly a leader, at his core. He functions best being at the right arm of a leader, an extension of that leadership, but not its source.

And he knows he is not a great man. A man capable of greatness.

But he still tries to be responsive to it, even if his mouth shudders at the corners, even as he can't make eye contact with Crozier as he nods, even as it's still difficult to form words for the ache of his heart.

"I understand, sir. I will try my best to... to adopt this mindset. I know the others are... trying, too. Our own Mr. Jopson... He is already adapting to this place. He is a strong man."

It could be said for Dr. Goodsir, as well. (...And even Mr. Hickey, who is also adapting to this place with far more ease than Little ever can.)

[goingtobeunwell]

"You needn't work that hard to adopt something you've already been doing," he tells him. "I've seen you. You're a steady presence here, someone people can trust and turn to in their time of need."

There's a strength in how much Edward Little wants to be of assistance. He wants to help so badly that he's crumbling in Crozier's defiance of their old routines, but it clearly never crossed his mind to give up entirely. He can see this in him.

Crozier wishes he were a better man. A better man would help this poor, floundering former lieutenant, instead of telling him to turn away from the only structure he's known for years.

[fidior]

No matter how difficult all of this is, hearing Crozier say such a thing about him... that he's noticed his efforts, calling him a steady presence, someone people can trust? It means something. It means everything. Little swallows, clearly affected by the words, and nods again — a bit more assured this time, working to stave his upset and compose himself, painfully aware how poorly he has received much of this conversation.

"I am truly grateful for your words, sir. I will take them to heart... and use them as a source of strength."

Earnest as ever, he nods again, seriously. Everything still hurts; there is so much hurt, for all of them here, he knows. And Crozier carries.... so much of it. Little hesitates, still torn between what respectful distance he's always known to maintain, the ache in his own heart, and the need to do something for this man whose eyes carry such sadness now.

"I know you must be.... exhausted, from the journey here. Is there anything I can do for you?"

[goingtobeunwell]

Strangely, the exhaustion only hit the exact moment it was brought up. Crozier suddenly feels it gnawing away at his shoulders and down his back, burning up his calves and thighs, making itself at home in his old wounds. He grips his wrist and very gently nods his head.

If Little wants to be of help, he'll let him.

"A place to rest." Preferably not out in the open, but the community center is crowded and bustling. He'll be happy with whatever morsel he's given.