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

[brutalact]

[the flinching response to his presence doesn't go unnoticed. vash did his best to hide his reactions, but instinct is a dog to beat down and knives spent a good portion of their lives giving vash a reason to be afraid. nights spent sleeping together only for vash to wake up and see knives beside him, the sickening wave of fear so intense that it shakes knives from his own sleep; he expects it. fear had a way of sneaking its tendrils into every little crevice and crack inside a person, knives knowing this intimately well.]

Taking off without even telling Vee, could have fooled me.

[of course he doesn't miss vash's inquiring look to the bundle. knives closes the distance between them, leaning down as he stands over vash to press a palm against his fever-flushed forehead. he moves to brush his knuckles over his cheeks next, feeling the heat scald his knuckles.] I would have brought you here when I returned.

[but it's a moot point now, knives getting down on a knee to unravel the bundle on the ground. two threadbare towels, a change of clothes, and a canteen filled with cold water. he picks up the canteen first and unscrews the lid before holding it out to vash.]

Drink.

[amo]

[ Vash could argue that his other self gets, more than anyone else, his penchant for disappearing without telling anyone. It's a bad habit cultivated over many, many years that he's unlikely to break anytime soon. Rather than argue, he settles for a mere shrug instead. That's between him and his double to understand about one another.

Being around Knives isn't always easy. It's probably to be expected given their past and all the pain Knives has inflicted upon him personally, but Vash wishes the slate could just be wiped clean entirely, that his body and subconscious mind would get the memo already. His initial reaction is still too often fear when Knives catches him off guard or when he finds himself waking up from a nightmare only to be face to face with the subject of many of them. Sharing a bed might not have been the wisest decision for them yet it's one Vash stubbornly sticks to. It just takes time for all of him to catch on that Knives is no longer the threat he once was and Vash is willing to wait.

Right now there's still some inherent apprehension as Knives draws close and looms over him, thoughts wanting to turn towards another time he was stood over by him just like this; the feeling of the cold hard deck of the ship against his bare skin, his brother's eyes watching cold and unfeeling as his body was contorted in ways no body ever should by another's whims— ... but that was then and this is now. Flushed by fever and humid air, warm stones grounding underneath him, the gentle sounds of water. There's no pain that follows in the wake of his brother's presence, there's only a cool hand pressed to his face that his burning skin finds some soothing relief in. His eyes droop once more at the palm against his forehead then close entirely as knuckles skim along his cheeks, head leaning into the touch ever so slightly. (See? It's fine.)

An eye is cracked open to peer dubiously up at Knives when he speaks, his skepticism plain on both his face and in his voice. ]

Would you have? You hardly let me take a few steps away from the bed.

[ Not that Vash listens all that much as they've both learned by now. Having already defied Knives' wishes by coming here and not wanting to draw any more ire, he does accept the canteen held out to him and obediently takes a swig from it though. The cold of the water is welcome even if his sore throat doesn't agree with the action of swallowing. He takes in what Knives has put down on the ground, noting the towels. ]

Going in for a soak?

[ It would likely do his brother good, (unnecessarily) stressed as he's been about Vash's state. ]

[brutalact]

Because you needed rest, Vash. Don't argue with me on this.

[they're both so terribly stubborn, cracking skulls under their own pressure until one of them finally buckled. it was something that had infuriated knives to no end throughout their lives, both together and separated, but now it feels a little more like a mirror reflecting back at him. he didn't know when to quit and neither did vash. one of them would end up losing this battle of wills and knives had drawn the short straw.

so, he gave vash more leeway here. the grumblings and judgmental looks his way over decisions knives did not agree with would stay simply that; he would try to trust vash to follow his instincts. even if those instincts clashed against knives' nearly every other step towards their continued survival here.

knives shakes his head, looking up at vash with a raised brow.]

No, you are. [his head tilts.] I will join you if that will make this easier.

[because there is no room for vash to say no here.]

[amo]

[ Fine, he won't argue. What he will do is make a face that's the equivalent of sticking out his tongue without actually doing so — ever the picture of the insolent little brother. He does need rest, but he can only toss and turn in bed for so long, unable to fall asleep because he can't breathe properly with his stuffy nose or because he can't stop coughing or whatever other annoying symptom decides to plague him next, before he gives up. Just staying in bed, staring holes at the ceiling, does not feel very restful at all. He'd rather be doing something (anything) than be left to stew in his misery like that. He's never been good at staying still anyway.

There's already a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when Knives shakes his head and yet somehow Vash is still taken by surprise by the statement that follows. ]

Huh? What?

[ He blinks, perplexed, eyes darting away from Knives to take in their surroundings and other nearby bathers. He's been careful to only get into the water when no one — or at least almost no one — is around to avoid being an off-putting eyesore in public. It's worked for him so far, even if it means going very late at night or before the crack of dawn. Right now it's the middle of the day, the chances of more people coming and going are as high as they are ever going to be.

Knives' tone brooks no argument. Vash challenges it regardless. ]

No, no, I'm good. You should take a dip though, it'll be good for you.

[ He's subtly tensing, drawing his legs closer to himself. Something that can be construed as defensive or like he's about to bolt. It might be the latter. ]

[brutalact]

I won't repeat myself, Vash.

[as if sensing his brother's growing readiness to make a run for it, knives' hand strikes out to grab a fistful of vash's shirt. if he won't undress himself, then he'll have his brother's assistance. the scars that littered his brother's body were an agonizing reminder of the inherent cruelty humans could inflict upon others, but they paled in comparison to the scars knives had inflicted on vash himself. the ones he'd carved himself, beneath everything else.]

You reek of sweat and illness, so either you undress yourself or I hold you down right here and do it myself.

[of course he's serious, already tugging the fabric of vash's shirt up to pull over his head if he doesn't make a decision soon.]

[amo]

[ Between his body's weak, sluggish state slowing his reaction time and the hand reaching for him evoking a different (much more fraught) time Knives was reaching for him, Vash doesn't really stand a chance at dodging him. His heart gets caught between beats, seeming to just stop in the few seconds that it takes for his brain to differentiate reality from memory. The hand isn't landing on his face, it's grabbing him by the shirt instead. This isn't then. He's been getting better about recognizing that more quickly. His heart kick-starts again — seemingly beating twice as fast to make up for the pause — in time for Knives' words to sink in and all he can muster is an indignant splutter before his shirt is tugged upwards without ceremony. That answers the immediate question that sprung to mind as to whether or not Knives is actually serious. Apparently very much so.

Vash knows he's in no condition to resist or escape, but with his fight or flight thoroughly triggered, he's not really thinking about that. His first instinct is (of course) to flee. Taking advantage of the fact that Knives is busy pulling the fabric over his head, Vash stops resisting and moves with him to actively slip out of his shirt. He's instantly twisting around once he's free, trying to scrabble away on all fours with all the grace of a newborn fawn. ]

Are you nuts?!

[ He's half-shrieking in a hoarse voice as he makes his desperate and most likely futile bid for freedom, trying to at least get out of range of the merciless hands seeking to strip him of all modesty. ]