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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Who even talks like that? --But the amusement is detached, only half-felt over the pain of everything else. Mostly Jason's just grateful for the help, not sure if he'd be able to pull himself out alone at this point. Every step, his legs seem to be screaming more and more, stiff in the wet and the cold.

The steps are like a miracle, even if he's not quite sure where they start. He'd crawl up them right now rather than getting stuck out here, so close. Luckily it doesn't take that much, just some careful kicking. He winces when his toes drive into the wood a little harder than he'd anticipated, but things could be much worse.

He stamps down hard when he does step up, tries to kick a little of the snow drift to the side in case of any other late stragglers who might trip on their way up. It's a pretty futile effort, more snow blowing in already, and Jason doesn't bother the rest of the way up, just finally lets go of Louis to grip the door's handle in two shaking hands and haul it open, nodding for him to go in first. This far from the fire, it's not even that warm, but it still feels like a blast of heat compared to the outside when the door opens.

It's so quiet indoors compared to the roar outside. His skin immediately tingles, and his extremities hurt. Remnants of pomade are frozen in his hair. Ice melts off even his eyelashes, and he unceremoniously drops his bag, bundled sundries, and overcoat.

"Goddamn why are places even allowed to be this cold?" he mutters. Louis's isn't the thickest accent, tempered by the cosmopolitan, but it's indelible.

He doesn't have his sea legs, or storm legs, or whatever passes for legs keeping him upright after all that. He sinks into a chair next to a nearby dining table and struggles to get his poorly insulated boots off with stiff fingers.

"What were you doin' out there?" As if he wasn't also looking like a fool in the storm just now.

"I thought I could wait it out by myself." He's shivering too hard to get a good grip on anything; the top coat is easy enough to unzip and shake out of, but peeling off his gloves is proving to be a little bit more challenging, and Jason's frowning down at his own hands even as he answers. "I didn't want to--"

Sit there stewing in his own thoughts with all these people around. There's not much to do stuck indoors like this, or at least not much he can do -- his usable life skills, as a sheltered rich kid, are pretty limited. And when he doesn't have something to do, it's a lot harder to stop thinking about everything at home before he came here.

It's a pretty ridiculous reason, now that he's seen how bad it really is firsthand.

"I don't know, it was a dumb idea," he mumbles, sounding every bit like the moody teenager he is. "I was wrong, anyway, and I didn't think I should wait any longer. I guess you were trying the same thing?"

Windburn aside, Louis thinks he's a fresh-faced kid who doesn't seem like he's had a hard life before this. Louis isn't sheltered, but he did come from money, and his workplace didn't involve wilderness survival in multiple feet of snow. Louis doesn't quite have it in him yet to shuck off the outer layer of snow pants worn over his regular pants. He just sits there for a moment in too-big pants and a frown.

"I thought the same. It's... hard for me to be around people for too long. But I can't survive on my own."

There it is. He said it. He can't survive on his own, and it hurts to admit. It brings up his self-hatred about being a passive observer of many things in his life. In a paradox, Louis often avoids talking about himself even if he finds it cathartic. Absolving, even.

"What about you? You look like the popular kid in school. Not a people person?"

Jason's expression is curious, pausing in his own attempts to peel off his outer layers to watch Louis, studying the person he'd stumbled in here with. Only for a few moments before he carefully looks away, not wanting to stare.

"No, I like people," he admits after a second, glancing down at his own hands self-consciously, trying to rub feeling back into his fingers. "But I'm used to people I know. The school I was at, before -- it wasn't that big. It's weird going from that to being around all these strangers."

And Louis does have that much pegged: Jason was the popular kid, and he knew how to live up to it. He knew what the people around him wanted. But here -- who even cares about one high school senior with zero survival skills? Why would anyone bother to expect anything from him?

It's probably supposed to be freeing, but it's terrifying. He's not sure who he's supposed to be around people, if it's not golden boy Jason McConnell, and the things that kid is good at aren't very helpful here. Getting good grades, throwing a ball -- okay, pretending to be straight is one he's still holding on to, but that's a bare minimum, and still much easier here where everyone probably has better things to think about.

"You don't like people?" he asks, turning the question around rather than trying to put any voice to his own reasoning. He's not really capable of putting it into words, and even if he was, it's embarrassing to admit it.

Jason could be someone out of those Arrow Collar ads. All-American golden boy. Such a privilege was never afforded to Louis. He would be called handsome, even before the Dark Gift changed his eyes to brilliant hypnotic green, but he would not be chosen to embody the style and affluence he nevertheless cultivated.

"Some people are all right." He tilts his head one way, then the other. "Some aren't. That's how it is."

Bricktop and the other ladies were all right. Cops aren't. Lestat was all right, up to a point. Claudia, of course, is his angel. That's the fatherly bias talking.

"So, you were in your own little world in school... Where you from? I was born and raised in New Orleans." Died there as well.

He finally gathers the strength to rid himself of the snow pants. Under his cobbled-together collection of warm items scavenged from Milton, he cuts a nice figure in a 3-piece suit out of a noir film. It's good enough to be buried in, if not formal enough. Instead of carrying it, he layered a wool sweater he found over his vest, one that would make any dad or college professor proud.

The clothes are weird. A suit is reasonable enough, even if it seems too nice to be scavenged from the picked-over stores around them; but something about it isn't quite the kind of suit he'd expect one of his parents' rich friends to come around in. He's not familiar enough with this kind of thing to pinpoint the reason, but he has been required to sit through enough dinners and balls to notice there's something different.

(Attractive, even accounting for the melting ice and all. But that, he's very good at ignoring, or at least making it look like he's not noticing.)

He makes himself stop looking, though, curiosity still clear on his face as he goes back to shedding his own overclothes, now that his fingers want to bend a little more easily. It's hobbled together from whatever was laying around, thin layers under a decent jacket and sweatpants over jeans. "Virginia. Not as interesting, even outside of boarding school," he notes with a little laugh. "It's pretty warm there, right? This must be a big change for you." As if he's used to anything like this weather himself.

The collar sits a little differently, and the lapels are a little wider than the modern sensibilities. The pattern on his tie is very old fashioned to a modern eye, but trendy to Louis's. He gathers up his hat and dusts the snow off the brim.

"You had beaches, I had the bayou. And mosquitoes... little bloodsuckers."

He rolls his eyes at the ceiling and resists the urge to grin too widely or chew his lip. He feels a little lightheaded. The thirst is there, and it will only get stronger, and he tries not to think about that too hard. He looks at Jason's face, not his neck. He's very good at it when he puts his mind to it. Decades of practice.

"The real crime is that they still have mosquitoes in the far north. Anywhere there's water that's not frozen... The price we pay when summer comes. If it comes..."

Louis' words give him pause. Jason fumbles with the hem of his sweater, frowning as he glances up. "God, do you think it even gets warm enough for things to melt around here?" he wonders out loud, like it's a brand new thought, twisting to look out the window at the snow falling. He's distantly aware of the fact that there are parts of the world that just kind of stay cold all year round, sure, but he hasn't really thought twice about it, even after being thrown from June into full-blown winter.

(The position leaves his neck stretched and bared, if only for a few moments; protecting yourself from hungry vampires is not really the kind of thing he's ever had to consider before.)

"I... don't know." It certainly seems like he's forgetting what warmth was like, but surely winter won't last forever...?

Jason's head turns, and Louis feels like he's staring at a delicious steak. Stop that, it's rude and weird. He turns his eyes elsewhere and settles them on the window.

"It can't have been always frozen here. A town wouldn't have survived..." He thinks. He doesn't know much about living so far north. "I... can't survive without others, so unless there's an expedition south, I won't know if we can escape."

The window proves to be a poor distraction.

"...That's bleak. Why don't you get yourself somethin' warm to drink?"

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nature offers a violence

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