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

Goodsir laughs softly. "Please don't," he says. "I came willingly, and ... and it's good to be away from the town for a little while." He adjusts the scarf around his neck. "And it is a ... a different sort of cold to that which I experienced in the Arctic. More trees, to begin with, and that makes it considerably less bleak."

"It... is kinda nice to be outside after being cooped up for a week." she does agrees with a tiny nod. Still, she is going to remain just a tiny bit guilty about the whole thing. They've been out here for, like, forever.

"... What was it like, out there?" she asks tentatively after a short pause. "I mean, you see pictures— photographs of it and stuff in textbooks and on the internet, but—"

But that's completely different to actually being there.

This land is beautiful to me, even now.

"The ice was the most extraordinary thing I'd ever seen," he says. His gaze goes distant, and there's a soft, wondering expression on his face. "You think at first that it's white, but it is rich with veins of jade green and ultramarine blue—the bergs, in particular, like great slabs of agate. And where the sheets of ice meet the land, they crumple and fold into these great pressure ridges—" and with his hands, he demonstrates the motion and shape, "—like mountain ranges in miniature, taller than a man's head. And it can be cold—unspeakably cold—so cold that I've heard teeth can explode in it. Skin freezes to metal in an instant. But it is ... it is very beautiful. Stark and inhospitable to those who don't understand how to live there, but beautiful."

It's a surprising description, but she's attentive as she listen to him — watching as he shapes things with his hands. She can appreciate the colours, smiling a little.

... Although the mention of 'teeth exploding' is.. actually a little horrifying and she unconsciously covers her upper teeth with her tongue for a moment with a frown, as if to warm them. Please don't explode, teeth. She's quite happy with you staying where you are.

"I guess everything's beautiful in its own way, even if it might be a difficult place to be for some." she's thought for a moment, smiling. "It's God's creation. All of it's meant to be beautiful, even the... bits that seem kinda scary."

She considers for a moment. Perspective matters, she thinks.

"Although what's scary to me might not be as scary to you. Everything's... still new to me, you know?" she wrinkles her nose a little, laughing. "Except teeth exploding. That sounds pretty horrific to everyone, I think."

He's a little sorry that he mentioned the bit about the teeth—he can see it rattled her. "I never saw it happen, myself," he says. "Dr. McDonald, the surgeon on Terror, said—but I think it is not a danger here, if I never saw it when we were icebound."

He's quiet for a moment. "I ... I am not sure of my certainties anymore, as far as God is concerned," he admits. "But I do believe that there is a beauty in all natural things—from the flash of a bird's wing to the hinge of a crab's claw. It's why I became an anatomist, why I chose to study natural history. It is a source of endless wonder."

"That's good to know. I kinda like my teeth." And she would really like to keep them exactly where they are, thanks. There's a tiny huff, half-relief and half-amusement, her head shaking.

It's okay if he's not sure about God. She doesn't mind, and she's certainly not the type to be preachy about it. She finds herself smiling as she listens, though. Thoughtful as she rests her chin in her hands.

"You must never be bored." No, it's really neat, though? And she's pleased for him, still smiling for another moment.

"I can't help but wonder about this stag, though. Like... maybe it's some kind of sign. Like I hope it might be. Something... from God, maybe." she doesn't know. "I mean, are white deer even in a thing in nature?"

"The only thing that bores me is paperwork," he says with a smile. Yes, that's an actual joke.

"White deer do occur in nature," he says. "They may be albinos—all white with pink skin and red eyes, but there are also what's called leucistic colourations—white, but without the red eyes. I'm not certain of what causes these differences—but they are not unknown. But they are very rare indeed."

It actually startles a laugh out of her; not the subdued chuckles of mirth but a real laugh. She covers her mouth with the back of her gloved fingers, amusement in her eyes. No, it's actually pretty funny though. Paperwork does kind suck.

(She doesn't remember the last time she laughed. Like actually laughed.)

She knows about Albinism, but 'leucistic colourations' is a new one and she nods along as she listens. But as to how they happen—

"Oh!" Oh, she knows this! "It's like a... genetic thing? So, like, what we look like is determined by what genes we inherit from our parents, stuff like hair and eye colour. There's more to it than that, but that's how it happens."

"Genetics, yes," he says. "Another science that appears ... after me, as it were, but I've tried to read what I can here, and it is astounding. To know now that such characteristics are written in our bodies, in particles invisible to the naked eye. It's extraordinary."

"After you, but I mean, if it wasn't for those in your time, we wouldn't even know half of the stuff we do now." Which is... kind of amazing, really. There's a little pause as she considers for a moment.

"People like you and your brothers working in the sciences—" yes, she remembers him telling her when they'd first met. But yeah, those who were alive during Mr Goodsir's time. "that's why we know so much."

Is she hyping him up a little? ... Yeah, she's totally hyping him up a little.

Goodsir can't really blush in this cold, but he does feel a warmth in his cheeks and smiles.

"I should like to think so. We, of course, stood on the shoulders of those who came before us, and it's only right that our work should provide a foundation for those who came after. John was fascinated by the structure of cells—he would be astounded to know how much was truly borne inside those particles."

Oh, hype up successful!

"It sucks that no can see how much things progress." she smiles a little sadly at him. "Like you only know what happens in your own life time. It feels kind of unfair in a way, you know? But... I'm really glad you're here."

... For more than one reason, but... yes, he gets to find out. He gets to see how far they've come.

And out on the ice of the Basin, it appears they finally have some company after all these hours of waiting — appearing so suddenly. Kate inhales sharply: oh. Oh, that's... real, isn't it? That's really a white stag, right?

"I'm glad as well," he says—and then Kate reacts; he follows her gaze, and gasps as well.

"There it is," he says, his voice scarcely above a whisper. "My God. He's magnificent."

Kate's hushed, awestruck. There's a little nod in agreement. She's never seen anything like it. He's beautiful. The stag seems to stare at them for a moment. Then, very slowly, starts to pad across the ice towards them.

"He's... not scared of us?" Why isn't it scared of them? She figured wildlife would tend to stay away from people, right? Carefully as she can, she finds herself getting to her feet. The deer doesn't flinch, only continues to head towards them.

"Maybe... maybe he's okay."

Harry also stands, wincing a little from being still for too long.

"Sometimes animals with no exposure to humans have no fear of us," he says, unable even now to stop himself from a bit of information dumping. "But ..."

He stops. He has a feeling that doesn't apply here.

"More things in heaven and earth," he murmurs.

It's entire possible. Even with Milton being a town, this place seem so remote. Surely there are places here untouched by man. Animals that have never seen people before, have never known to be afraid of them.

But... yeah, this feels different.

The stag draws closer still, and Kate's lips form a thin like, her eyes still wide. It stops just on the edge of the Basin's ice — almost as if waiting expectantly. It's possibly a dumb thing to do, or possibly brave, but she stares at the creature for a long moment before her feet are carrying her forwards.

She's slowly on approach, careful and even more careful when her feet hit the ice — a little worried, but the ice holds well enough. The deer makes no attempt to move, still waiting for her. Carefully, she pulls off one glove — holds it out for the deer.

It leans in slightly to sniff before nuzzling at her— oh, his fur is so soft. Kate tentatively brushes her hand along: once, then twice. She turns her head back.

"Mr Goodsir, come see!" she urges in a loud whisper, "Come on, he's super friendly!"

Goodsir almost stops Kate—the last thing he wants is to see her fall through the ice or be mowed down by a stag, and he knows they can be dangerous—but it's soon clear that she's safe. When Kate looks back, she'll see him staring back with a look of stunned wonder.

He struggles to his feet and carefully makes his way over to join them, removing his own glove and extending his hand to the deer.

It sniffs at him lightly, snorts softly—it sounds, oddly, almost like a kindly rebuke of some kind—and dips its head as if in greeting.

Kate chuckles at the exchange. "Yeah, I think he likes you too." she says with a grin. "He's really friendly."

The fact he's willing to be petted feels a bit surreal. But this is... honestly nice.

"Do you think maybe he'll give us some good luck?"

"If this isn't a good omen, I am not sure what else would be." He pets the stag lightly on his neck, as if it were a pony. The incongruity of it almost makes him laugh.

Kate hums thoughtfully at that, offering the creature a soft scritch upon its nose. "Then please be a good omen, okay?" she tells the stag gently, with an eyebrow raised. "We could do with a little. Maybe go off and bring us some recuse, or a way out of Milton. If that's not too much trouble."

Like, you know. That'd be nice. A little help.

Curiously, the stag blinks at her and then dips his head — almost as if it understands her. A choice is made, after all.

And with that, there's a sudden shifting of the wind. Within an instant, the stag vanishes — with a gentle swirling of powdered snow. Their hands touching nothing but air. Kate stares, stunned.

"... what just happened?"

Goodsir rubs his eyes, as if that will somehow make sense of what he just saw. He looks around, eventually turning in a full circle to look in all directions. Nothing. He bends down to check the snow for tracks.

"More things in heaven and earth," he murmurs, shaking his head. "If you hadn't been here and seen it as well, I'd have thought it a hallucination."

Kate stares at her hand, turning it over to look at her palm — nothing but the faint dusting of snow on it. Like, she's sure she was definitely petting a deer, and she couldn't have possibly imagined how soft it felt. It felt as real as anything else.

"Y—yeah." This is... kind of trippy. "And like, it kind of makes sense considering this place being.... well,"

Does she really need to finish.

"Do you think we should tell the others?"

"I—I don't know." He smiles a little. "I cannot imagine there being much harm in it, but it feels ..."

Private? Personal? No, something else ...

"Like a mystery. In the religious sense, I mean."

Kate considers for a moment, thoughtful.

"Some kind of.. secret, maybe?" she offers with a raise of her eyebrows. "Like... maybe it should stay a mystery? Some things can't always be explained or discovered, I guess. Kind of like some religious or spiritual experiences."

"Like a burning bush, or a Papist's weeping statue," he muses. "We needn't say anything, I think. Not unless ... unless it feels right to do so."

He puts a hand on her shoulder. "But I'm very glad to have seen it—and to have been at your side for it."

nature offers a violence

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i swear the deer is gonna turn up, but this is darling

it's so cute!

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