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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I'm alright. Don't worry about me."

Levi's build is generally small, but he manages to hold firm against the storm. He does have a rifle on his back, but he's currently wearing mittens so that's not really a threat right now. He moves closer to Louis and holds out a hand.

"Its easier to lose each other if you hold onto me."

He didn't notice the rifle until it was too late to retreat. A rifle even in the hands of a slight boy could kill him. Louis is reminded of his vulnerability, how he can't just shrug off bullets anymore. He supposes he knows why people have guns around here--for wildlife, ostensibly--but he doesn't like it. He's of the opinion that he's more likely to get killed by a person than a wolf (even if the wolves have been driven crazy).

He takes his hand with his own gloved one. That's one less hand for that rifle, anyway. Louis silently thanks his stars he's still in a town. If they overshoot the Hall, they may still run into another building's front and be able to trace from there.

Levi makes no move to use the rifle, at least. He just grips Louis's hand tightly, takes a moment to get his bearings then begins retracing his steps. He doesn't speak during it, even if addressed, since this is taking up most of his concentration.

The path isn't perfect but it gets them close enough to make out the hall and head straight for it. Then he breathes a sigh of relief, lets go of Louis's hand and looks back to the other man.

"We'll be safe here." Hopefully...assuming the storm doesn't get worse.

He sees the faint lights first, then the building. The Hall is big, with a wide pitched roof. It has that advantage.

Louis doesn't think anywhere is safe as long as there is a hungry vampire in it. Would be more merciful to kill this human here now to spare the rest, or take his chances trying to find rats to sustain him inside?

He doesn't kill the boy. He hasn't got the heart to deal death to one who helped him.

"I heard this is where people wanted to gather. We'll see how safe it is," he says cautiously before moving forward.

"Its been safe so far. We have enough food for awhile and the water's still running." He holds the door open for Louis. "There's a lot of people, but you can probably keep to yourself if you want."

He's been able to, at least.

He ducks in quickly, not wanting to let the frigid air inside. His skin itches as it encounters warmth. He misses his vampiric invulnerability in times like this, which is nearly every day. He does terribly with the cold.

He had specific reasons for staying away from the main group, but he's slowly becoming aware that all this makes him look like a stubborn loner destined to die in the storm if not for someone's help.

"This your hobby, collecting wayward storm travelers?"

He scrutinizes him more closely now that he's out of the blinding white. How did this boy guess he'd want to be alone? Maybe the fact that he was alone to begin with, trying to tough it out in the home he barely settled in.

He follows Louis in and quickly shuts the door after them. "Uh, no, I just wanted to check for trouble."

Well, or people out in the storm, but he wasn't doing it often.

"You found it," he grunts as he sets his bag down. He lets the two meaning intermingle without bothering to distinguish between them. Louis was in trouble; Louis is trouble.

He looks around. There are the permanent features of the Community Hall, the fireplace and stage, and then there are the temporary installments of storm supplies stacked up and more people bunking down here than usual.

"You used a rifle before?" He nods to the gun that he's a little more sure won't be fired indoors.

Once inside he starts removing his extra layers. "Yes. It's my service rifle."

He is finally getting the idea that soldiers his age aren't normal where other people are from, but the question was still getting old.

The rifle is removed for him to take off his coat. He picks it back up, but leaves it pointed at the ground. He'll put it under his bed later.

Louis piles his blanket/tarp amalgamation on top of his bag. He'll find a place for all that in a moment. He needs a moment to catch his breath and bearings. His skin tingles as warmth returns to it. It almost hurts. He forgot what that felt like until he arrived in this world.

He believes him. The kid at least seems to know his way around gun safety. Not everyone, regardless of age, knows how to use one, back in New Orleans. City folk don't really feel the need to scare off bears or hunt deer.

"In what country they enlist people young as you?"

He meant the question to be stark, casual, but something of softness slips into his voice. He's a father, or was (is still?). This kid is too young to die.

"The Eastern Union," there's bitterness in his voice. Levi has no sense of patriotism or love for his country.

"No such country where I'm from, but everyone's from everywhere and everywhen, I've noticed."

He sheds only his scarf and outer layer to let it dry by the fireplace, and some poorly-made boots in favor of his usual shoes. It takes some doing; he's stiff and uncoordinated after being blown about.

"Get you something warm to drink," he suggests. "And cheers to you not being in the forces anymore."

Jesus Christ.

"Yeah, I've heard that before." He wonders what happened in the future to erase his entire country...he hasn't figured out the different worlds part yet.

"Heh. Thanks. You should stay by the fire for awhile, make sure everything's thawed out."

"America. Uh, that is, the United States. Nineteen-forty, in the year of our Lord," he offers as he removes his gloves. Even with the short duration of his sojourn, his extremities are swollen and flushed with the cold.

He winces and lays his outer garments near the fire to dry. He thinks of his cotton button-down and how it could have killed him. He thinks he remembers something about cotton being a poor choice for the cold, too breathable and not drying like wool.

"What do you get up to now? I mean, not that there's anything like official jobs around here..."

Alright, he might be concerned that a child soldier might not have real world skills or prospects besides survival and killing... Maybe he's overthinking it. Perks of being a father and missing his daughter.

Huh, that year's close to his, he figured that was weird...but he didn't really ask about when people were from because wtf. "I'm from 1942."

He shrugs, "I patrol. I...I guess it's not really needed. But I feel better doing it. There isn't really much else. And we have had trouble with wolves before."

He definitely has real skills besides 'kill people' and 'shoot real good.'

"Oh, it's needed, I bet. There are more than just wolves out there. And see, that's just the thing: 1942. How you gain two years on me?" he asks rhetorically with eyebrows raised. "That's strange enough as it is."

It wasn't Louis's first instinct to ask when anyone was from either. He met people and had entire conversations with them without asking. But details began to surface. Clothing. Slang. Technology. He explored the town, and the evidence was there.

"I'm sure there are. Its only a matter of time before they come into town. But there are a good amount of us patrolling. Hopefully its enough." It probably won't be enough.

"Oh, uh..." he didn't like talking about the weird shit here, since he didn't even come close to understanding it and it just felt odd. "There's, um, people from different times here. I know it sounds crazy! But there are people with, like, light guns and phones you carry around. And whatever a computer is. Its, um...I don't know. I don't think anybody knows."

There were also some old timey guys wandering around, but he wasn't sure if that was a time difference or if it was just like that where ever the fuck they were from.

"Phones you... what? Portable phones..."

It's radios that do the wireless thing, not phones. Come to think of it... those common little handheld devices... Louis had thought they were simply readers, an alternative to carrying ten books around. Or maybe they're just little televisions. Surely. He'd not been able to test one out, but they have the same screens as other things that show media and information. televisions, oscillators, etc. But no, it can't be...

"Anyway, I been in town. I seen the signs. Mail dated many years into the future, weird machines... Too elaborate to be a hoax. Time travel. I already felt like a stranger here anyway... Another country may as well be another world."

He shrugs, stretching his hands out towards the fire. He doesn't know how that works, but science fiction exists.

"They don't look like phones. They're like little note pads but with a screen instead of paper. But they're called phones. I don't get it." Why would people need to carry a phone around anyway?

"Yeah...I wasn't sure what to make of those dates at first. But now I'm pretty sure they're real. So it's like...2014? here, but I've talked to people who say they're from later than that. And places I've never even heard of."

Hm, actually, if this guy's the closest to his time, he should know his country, right? Levi lived there in 1940 after all.

"Um, do you know the Eastern Union? Bohemia? Where are you from?"

He shakes his head. Why would anyone shape a phone like a notebook... But nothing works, so Louis can't test this theory. He can't just hop on over to the Eastern Union to verify its existence in this world either.

"I know Bohemia at least. Czechoslovakia. I was on my way to visit Prague and other cities in Europe. I'm American--uh, from the United States. Well--I'm Louisianian more than American, and I'm New Orleanian more than Louisianian, and I'm Creole more than anything else."

His mouth quirks to the side with a smirk of pride. If none of these names exist in this boy's world, it might be confusing, but Louis feels compelled to elaborate. It's important. Flying in the face of the white Anglo-American imposed racial binary, Louisiana cultivated a mixed race culture loudly and proudly. Louis could always tell who was from out of town from the offended looks they gave to him freely mixing with people of any color.

Aside from Bohemia, he knows none of those names. Well, someone else had mentioned being from the United States or America or something like that, but they weren't countries he'd heard of before ending up here. But there were only two years difference between them, how could these things have existed for Louis but not for him? Were these some strange countries on the continent of Vinland, a place he'd always heard was too dark and terrible for people to really live in. None of these people seemed like they'd come from a land named for the amount of wine one had to drink to forget what they saw there.

"...I don't know any of those. D-do you know, uh, the Bremen Empire? Europa? Rondon? Uh...Abyssonia? V-vinland?"

He had to know that last one, right? If there really was a civilization in Vinland he didn't know about surely he'd still know the name of the land?

He might sound a little bit desperate. Because this is freaking him out.

Louis wrinkles the bridge of his nose in thought. He didn't expect to go crashing through half-remembered geography.

"Bremen... I think I seen ships from there, maybe, while ago. Must be a port. We got some Germans in town--though not with the war on. Abyssinia is... being invaded by the Italians currently. Vinland... That's Canada?"

His eyebrow quirks higher as he tries to remember.

"Hey listen, we're far from home and isolated regardless," he intones with practicality he himself must take refuge in. As a vampire, he is always going to be a little isolated no matter where he goes. "I haven't been able to find an atlas, but there's maps in town with countries I ain't never heard of, and all the most recent writing suggests the inhabitants were trapped here, whether by snow or the recent... catastrophe."

Louis knows some of the names, but not all of them. And possibly other names for places he knows? Ugh, this is making his head hurt. Is there even more time between them, or something else?

But Louis is right about them being far from home, and isolated. He'll take that over trying to understand things.

"I'm not sure this place is anything like where any of us know." He sighs and shakes his head. "The, uh, the catastrophe...it didn't trap them."

At least, he assumes its what killed everyone. But there may have been trouble before that.

One thing at a time. In a classic case of overcompensating, Louis is a master at compartmentalizing and ignoring things that upset him, sometimes repressing things to his own detriment later. It's all just too much to take on at once.

"The sudden deaths... but there are 'Interlopers.' So you're saying more people came only after the old ones were killed--uh, died suddenly?"

"N-no...Those of us who showed up first, I think we were the first Interlopers. We cleaned up the bodies of whoever lived here. That old guy was the only one alive and he wont say what happened."

The bodies hadn't bothered him, but he's aware that it'd bother most people. Normal people. So he's tried to avoid mentioning the state of the town when he got here.

"Uh, I don't think there have been many nights with them lately, but for awhile ghosts showed up. Like, um, not like real ghosts, like someone playing a film strip of what happened over the town. Something happened, and they all either died because of it or killed each other."

nature offers a violence

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cw: reference to racism

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