methuselah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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singillppl2023-08-10 12:13 am
singmod) wrote in singillppl2023-08-10 12:13 am
Entry tags:
August 2023 Test Drive Meme
AUGUST 2023 TDM
PROMPT ONE — ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST: A group of newcomers find themselves lost in the frozen wilds and vulnerable to the dangers of nature. With luck, they make it to the town of Milton, and to a friendly face offering food, warmth and shelter.
PROMPT TWO — HOPE NOBODY NEEDS THIS ANYMORE: Once recovered from their journey, newcomers are free to explore the town of Milton for supplies and find any signs of the townsfolk.
PROMPT THREE — THE SIREN OF MILTON BASIN: A mysterious woman haunts the frozen lake of the Milton Basin, trying to lure newcomers to their deaths.
ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST
WHEN: Day One.
WHERE: Milton, Milton Outskirts.
CONTENT WARNINGS: potential animal attacks, potential injuries, potential cold injuries/hyperthermia risk.
’You are the Interloper. You are not part of nature’s design.’
It’s the last thing you hear. A dark, deep voice. Impossibly ancient. You feel afraid. Maybe you’re dreaming, maybe you’re wide awake. You saw the lights, and then your world went dark. But you hear it in the blackness, you won’t forget those words.
You awaken. You are not where you were before. It’s different for everyone, there doesn’t seem to be much of a pattern in where you find yourself. You may open your eyes to find yourself in a cold, dim and dank cabin. The air is stale, dust hangs in the rays of weak sunlight that shine through the tiny windows. Someone lived here once, but they aren’t to be found. You look around, it seems like no one has been here in several days, maybe longer. The fire is cold, the dishes in the sink are a little mouldy. It is quiet. The wood creaks around you. Or perhaps you may awaken to find yourself shivering in the yawning maw of a cave, the freezing stone below you. Or maybe you’re unfortunate enough to sit up to find yourself lying in the snow, in the middle of the wilderness. Snow lies thick around you. It’s freezing out. You haven’t felt a cold like this before in your entire life. Cruel and biting. You have no idea where you are, and what’s worse — you are completely alone.
You may feel different, too. Any powers or magics you may have feel... absent. Disconnected. Things that may not have affected you previously now do. Something in you has changed.
You know you can’t stay where you are. You’ll need to move, try to work out where you are and how you came to be here. So you walk, head out into the unknown, in hope of finding a trail or a road. You’ll find one soon enough. It’s here you may find someone else in the same boat as yourself, equally freezing and confused. You’ll both need to keep going. It won’t be easy. You hear howls of wolves around you, and the terrain is difficult: slips and falls are likely. You’re completely vulnerable out here in the open.
But it won’t be long until you see it: the lazy trail of smoke rising in the air. Fire.
Follow it, and soon enough the way you’ve taken will certainly become a path or road. Unfolding before you in the mountainous forests, you’ll see the most welcome of sights: a small mining town tucked up in the valley. Battered, rusted road signs will direct to “MILTON, POP. 947”. You’re almost there, you keep going, and it looks like other people have had the same idea as you. As you head into the outskirts and further into town, you’ll find it’s a little easier to walk but the cold has gripped you hard. You’ll find the buildings, both shops and homes, are dark and lifeless, some of them are boarded up. Other than those heading in the same direction, towards the smoke, you won’t find any townsfolk coming to greet you, or even looking at you from behind curtains. … Where is everyone?
Towards the center of town, you’ll find the building from which the smoke rises: a school-house of sorts, or some kind of community hall. Perhaps both. You’ll find more and more people all drawn to this place, each and every one of them in the same position as yourself (and your companion, if you’ve found one). Some are in worse states than others: some are bloodied, nursing bite wounds or cuts; others might have some other kind of injury sustained in the journey here from falls. Others may look as if they could faint from the cold at any second.
The door opens, and you’re greeted by the gnarled, wizened face of an elderly man, dressed in thick furs. He has a kind face. He smiles warmly, and with pity, ushering you in with haste.
“It seems like a great deal of you have come.” he muses finally. “I am Methuselah. I welcome you Newcomer, although I’m sorry for how you’ve come to find yourself here. Please, warm yourselves. Eat. Get your bearings. Mother Nature has not been kind to you.”
The room is dim, lit mostly by the weak natural daylight through the windows. A roaring fire sits at one end of the huge hall. It crackles, bright and cheerful…. and warm. Even as big as this place is, the room is pleasantly warm. You’ll also find basic cots set up down one side of the hall, places to rest for a moment and get your bearings, or just trying to recover from the cold or any injuries. Down the other side are tables and chairs, and long, foldable tables laden with food, drinks and bottled water similar to one might find at a soup kitchen.
There are canisters with hot herbal teas and coffee, along with soup and stew and trays of charred moose, deer and rabbit meats, instant mashed potatoes, and tinned vegetables. It’s very basic, but it’s hot and filling. A feast. The old man has been busy. And Methuselah will continue to busy himself, still; there is plenty to do. He will fetch blankets, tend to wounds, serve food and drinks. He does not have much time to talk. More and more people seem to be coming in from the cold. He will not stop to sit and rest until everyone is seen to, taking up a place by the fire to gaze silently into its flames. He is troubled, thoughtful.
If you ask him where you are, he will simply respond: “This is Milton, of the Northern Territories.”
If you ask how you came to be here, he will shake his head: “Something has changed. The sky, it was… full of light. The Flare. I felt you coming, a great arrival. But I cannot say for certain how, or why you are here.”
He is regretful, genuinely so. He wishes he had more answers for you, but he does not. Instead he will simply insist you rest, get warm and eat. There is plenty to go around. Eventually, when you feel well enough, Methuselah will gesture to the door: “When you are ready and able, explore the town. Many left, others could not make it out. I have found no one but the dead. They will have no use of the place now, perhaps you might in the meantime.”
HOPE NOBODY NEEDS THIS ANYMORE
WHEN: First couple of weeks since arrival.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: frozen dead bodies, unexplained deaths, suicide, murder.
Other than Methuselah in the Hall, the town of Milton is void of life. While not a particularly large town, there’s a few stores and even a gas station. Life here is rustic. Function over form. Homes are simple but sturdy and warm, it’s a rugged place and one can easily deduce that the folk living here led simple, self-sufficient lives.
Commercial buildings and stores of note include a bank and post office, a hunting/fishing supply store, a grocery store, and a clothing store. There is even a church just on the outskirts of town. The buildings are ripe for picking, with most of them still with the doors unlocked, including the residential buildings. Others are locked, but can be broken into easily enough. A few are even trickier, with some of them boarded up or with entrances blocked. In terms of contents, a third of the residential buildings seem to be almost empty, as if the owners moved out long ago. There might still be things left behind of use: old, warm clothes good for the wintery weather, tools and cooking utensils — but little in terms of food. Even if the former residents move some time ago, they didn’t completely empty their homes.
Most of the homes in Milton seem to be left as if the owner stepped out only a short while ago, and with very little disturbance. Some houses, however, seem to be abandoned in a hurry, with a mess of items strewn about in some last-minute dash to grab essentials: keys, identification, treasured personal items, supplies for a quick exit. Cupboards are typically filled with an abundance of canned goods, and some chilled goods might have survived in the cold weather within the fridge-freezers, but it might be a gamble if one wants to try and eat them. Any and all electronics within homes: televisions, computers, mobile-phones — although dated, will all appear cracked and damaged, and will not function or turn out at all. The same will go for any vehicles around the town: there is no hope of starting any of them.
Diaries and journals kept by the former residents may remark on a change in the weather, with the cold and harsh climate becoming more hostile as of late. Others remark strange lights in the skies, dating several weeks or so ago, strange noises in the air, issues with power and electrical items. Some make mentions of changes to the wildlife, with wolves coming close to the town even when they had never done so before. One or two mention problems on the Mainland, with increasing difficulty of reaching out to loved ones who don’t live in the Northern Territories, or deliveries being unable to arrive. The growing trend is that something odd and terrible has been happening, although no one can truly explain what, and the problems have been growing increasingly worse and worse up to the final entries. You might note that the actual years and dates might not line up with your own: the current year given in these entries is 2014.
The newcomers are free to take over these homes, if they wish. No one appears to be stopping them, and even Methuselah seems to shrug about moving in. And as he’d mentioned, he has found no one but the dead: and plenty of them can be found.
Bodies of the town’s former residence can be found scattered over the town. In homes, in stores, out in the snow. They appear still relatively fresh, although it may be hard to tell if it’s from the cold or if it’s from very little time passing. Most appear to have died from cold exposure, some appear to have simply dropped dead on the spot. Others may be found with a gun in hand. Some, worryingly, appear to have perished by another’s hand. You won’t find the entirety of the town’s population, but there’ll be at least several dozen. Men, women, children.
Methuselah seems to have begun laying the dead to rest, but there’s too many for one man to do. Maybe you can work out what to do with them, try to bury them in their backyards, or try to take them to the churchyard.
THE SIREN OF MILTON BASIN
WHEN: Until the next Aurora.
WHERE: Milton Basin.
CONTENT WARNINGS: mental manipulation, malevolent mythical creatures, falling through ice, attempted drowning/possible successful drowning, potential character death.
Those who venture further south of the town will find themselves traversing the steep, winding paths down towards the Milton Basin. The way down is treacherous, but if enough care is taken you should be able to make it down in one piece. The water is just about completely frozen over down here, thick and sturdy enough to walk over for the most part. Within the Basin there’s more wildlife to be found: deer and rabbit are plenty. And there’s even plenty of foragables, too.
Out on the water are two small ice-fishing cabins, enough to fit one or two people inside comfortably, which hold a few forgotten supplies to try out some ice-fishing if you want to see if anything bites. Both even hold little log burners to keep warm. An old hunter’s shack can be found along the water’s edge, for those not quite brave enough to travel out onto the ice, to take shelter in for when the weather gets a little too difficult, with an old log burner still working within it.
But it’s calm down here, for the most part. Peaceful even. It’s an excellent place for fishing and hunting, and a little more sheltered from the freezing winds.
Until you hear the voice. Something soft and feminine, echoing across the ice. The Basin helps to amplify the sound, and for a long time you can’t quite be sure of where exactly it’s coming from. It’s singing, she is singing. Something old, in a language you can’t quite understand. Maybe it’s not even a language at all, but simply melodic vocalizations. It’s... beautiful, you’ve never heard anything like it before in your life.
And then you see her: a woman standing upon the frozen waters of the Basin. You realise she’s probably the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen in your life, even if you can’t quite even begin to describe her. She appears different to everyone who beholds her, some one might see her hair is long and dark, others might see her with neat red curls. Some swear her skin is dark and rich, that looks almost plum when the light hits it just so, others claim it to be cool-toned that glistens like sunlight on snow. Whatever someone might find aesthetically pleasing is how she’ll appear, and even then to describe her to others will bring you at a loss for words. And she’s singing… to you, for you.
You’re compelled to go to her, although you can’t explain why. You’re drawn to approach her, to hear her better, see her better. Your feet carry you onto the ice, out into the midst of the Basin. You ignore the calls of everyone and anyone around you, fixated on the woman before you. She smiles when you’re close enough, beckons you a little closer.
… Then everything changes. Without warning, the woman leaps for you, her face contorting into something hideous, mouth opening to scream to reveal rows upon rows of tiny, needle-like teeth. She collides with you, and the force (paired with the slippery ice below you) is enough to send you off your feet. As you fall back, the ice cracks beneath you with an almighty sound, plunging you into the frigid depths below.
The woman fights to put you beneath the water’s surface, those needle-like teeth bared like some ferocious beast. She can be fought off easily enough, but she might just drown you before you’re able to. If you’re lucky, someone might be able to help pull you out. Tools or weapons made of iron or silver are especially harmful to her.
Once you’re pulled from the water, getting somewhere warm will be the utmost priority — otherwise the cold will kill you quicker than the woman would. The woman, you’ll find, will have vanished, and the ice where you’d fallen will have restored itself, as if it had never been broken at all.
FAQs
1. Items characters have brought from home can be found either strewn around them when they awaken, or in the community hall — as if someone left them out for them to collect. Methuselah will not know how they got there, and will be quite bemused by the happenings.
2. Reminder that all characters are now depowered upon arrival. They can choose not to notice it at first, or can immediately sense something is different about them.
3. If asked any personal questions, Methuselah will smile and say "Oh, you don't want to know about an old man like me. But I have lived all over in these parts for all my life." He will be more concerned with trying to help Newcomers, and is genuinely concerned for them and their well-being.
4. If asked how he knew that the Newcomers were arriving, he concedes that although it is a strange thing to know, it is much like how one knows a storm is coming.
1. Characters are welcome to take up residency in any of the homes of Milton. Methuselah will strongly advise characters to leave a huge, dilapidated house — known as Milton House — well alone, due to extensive fire damage.
2. More information about Milton can be found here.
1. Characters with hearing impairments will not be susceptible to the Siren's song, or may only be somewhat susceptible depending, but may be entranced to a degree by looking at the Siren. However, this will be far easier to snap out of.
2. The Siren cannot be killed, only fought off. She will disappear for a length of time to recover before she attempts to lure her next victim.
no subject
And if he can get hurt, one of the most well-known Fables of all, then they all can.
Still, even though the man still struggles with his temper nowadays, he knows when to try to not let it out. Showing it here would just be misdirected, because Max doesn't deserve any of that crap.
So he sucks in a deep breath, holds it, breathes it out. The sort of thing Snow would tell him to do to calm down, surely. ]
Alright. [ The man manages to say after that breath, giving the dog a ruffle of the fur on its head as a thanks for the nuzzle. ] When you do, I'll come with you.
[ Sure, it's not like Max would be helpless with Maurice around, but who knows what could be out here in these woods. Things even more dangerous than just wild animals - it wouldn't surprise Bigby. ]
I'm pretty good at tracking things down too.
[ Even if he's not up to his usual level. ]
no subject
She's learned to bury that instinct, too, except for when it's useful.]
Of course, I won't turn down a second pair of eyes.
[In other circumstances she might wonder if it's some bullshit idea of chivalry, or that she couldn't handle herself because she's a woman, but they're talking about searching for someone that he knows. It's not about Max, right now, it's about whoever he's lost.]
Are you comfortable with firearms? I only have a handgun as of this moment, but if I find any other weaponry in town, I'm willing to share.
[The idea of handing over a gun isn't one she's a fan of, and she wouldn't do it if things weren't quite so desperate.
At least Maurice seems to like Bigby. He's usually a good judge of character.]
no subject
I'm trained.
[ .. basically?
Technically.
Very, very technically. But he doesn't have to admit to that when Bigby knows he's a responsible enough guy when it comes to making sure no innocent people get hurt. ]
I'm a sheriff. [ He explains - the one time that factoid might actually come in useful. Portray him as reliable, rather than what it makes the Fables back home see him as. ] I prefer not to use them, but..
[ He sighs, looking away from both Max and Maurice for a moment to glance at their surroundings. ]
Something tells me we might need it here.
[ Not like the walk over was the most peaceful thing already, and things can only get more tense when a lot of people are smushed together into a tiny village in the middle of nowhere - with threats all around. ]
no subject
It helps that there's some reluctance to use fire arms, that reassures her that he isn't going to be some trigger happy asshole that she'll have to handle. The last thing she needs is trying to manage people on top of dealing with the environment and whatever external threats arise.]
I haven't wanted to cause any alarm amongst the others, but I fear that the elements may be the least of our troubles.
[It's pretty bad out there! She worries that there are much, much worse things than wolves lurking in the forest.]
no subject
[ He's willing to agree with that really easily. And it's not even the cold, and it's not even the wild animals in his opinion - because, given what Bigby is and what he deals with on a daily basis, wild animals are truly all the way at the bottom of his list of potential trouble.
Because of course he has a mental list of potential trouble. It's how he functions. ]
Putting a bunch of people who don't even know each other together in some remote place, with limited resources? [ .. Bigby pauses, but then just sighs and shakes his head.
Even having a very good boy dog around can't make that easier. He already is getting a headache just thinking about it. ]
It's like a powder keg. It's inevitably going to blow at some point or another.
no subject
Whatever's lurking in the forest is more actively dangerous, more immediate, but people are always going to be a nightmare.
She could've tried to hide her exhaustion or played at being an optimist, and maybe she would've done it well, but she isn't interested in that game right now.]
The more supplies we have and the safer people feel, the longer we may be able to avoid that outcome.
no subject
Even if he's not sure how many people here are on Max's level of understanding of the situation. ]
It won't be easy to make people feel safe here. [ He therefore replies, deciding to meet her on her own level. Sharing his own assessment of the situation with her, as someone who definitely has experience with these sorts of things.
And properly addressing Max herself, rather than just looking at the dog. ]
It's already going to be hard to get enough supplies, but even then some people are going to be scared of what's out there. The wolves. Whatever else kind of wildlife or possible dangers this land's got.
no subject
She hadn't entered this conversation intending to strategize, but now that she's here, it's hard not to slip into that mode.]
I believe our best option may be to keep everyone busy within the town. I'd like to assume our time here will be short, but if we prepare for a longer stay it will keep everyone focused.
[There's only so much scavenging that can be done, they'll potentially need to look into growing food and preparing to hunt or trap animals, all of which takes time and effort.
Keeping people busy, keeping them focused on survival, it works like hope. It might keep them from spiraling too far into the true hopelessness of the situation.]
no subject
[ Not that Bigby likes the idea all that much. He's seen how corrupt leaders can be, after all. He's never liked the idea, even back home, where he actually worked for said leaders. ]
I mean, even if we're only here for a short while, it's easier if there's someone to keep everyone focused. It's much more likely that things will end up chaotic if everyone is just left to their own devices.
[ .. Though the man is still thinking about the entire idea, slowly shaking his head at her. ]
Hard to say how to pick one though when none of us know whether we can even trust each other. [ In the end they are just a bunch of strangers put together.
Some of said strangers just have a cute dog that immediately makes them more trustworthy, if you go by how much Bigby is even deciding to tell Max here, trusting her with his thoughts. ]
no subject
People will balk at anyone attempting to assume control.
[It isn't disagreement with his overall points, just another factor to consider. It isn't just about a lack of trust, there are going to be people who'll want it for themselves, people who won't agree with decisions, people who don't want to be controlled.]
I do personally have experience with leadership, but I'm not especially interested in a power struggle.
[She's done enough of that in her life.]
no subject
It's a pain. ]
What experience do you have?
[ It might be good to know, even if - like Max is pointing out - it's not something they can just put into practice that easily. ]
.. If you don't mind sharing. [ He likes her enough so far to at least bother to be a little polite, adding that. It doesn't seem like a super personal thing, but.. you never know, and it's not like he wants to seem like he's prying. ]
no subject
People will question credentials, and she's known that this was coming since she realized other people were here, regardless of leadership positions. She isn't willing to hide how capable she is in order to maintain her old cover story, so she'd had to workshop another.
Which is why she exhales roughly, looking reluctant, but the sort of reluctance that comes from an outside force.]
Somewhat ironically, I'm not supposed to talk about this.
[It's a good performance, she sounds suitably wry with just a hint of amusement, like she's trying to keep up some humor in an unfortunate situation, but not one that's life or death.]
I work for the CIA. [She gives a little shrug, expression still wry.] This place doesn't care about security clearance.
[So there's no real reason to keep it secret, but she still somewhat uncomfortable with what she's shared, as if going against instinct and training.
If this is going to work, Max knows she needs to make it believable, and seeming too at ease with sharing this information would be suspicious.]
no subject
[ He does raise an eyebrow as he looks at her, but it's not a sceptical one, really. If anything, the man seems more surprised. Out of all possible mundies whoever is doing this could have dragged here, it just had to be a CIA officer, huh. He seems more than willing to believe the story she's selling him here.
Not that it really means anything. Maybe that's why there's just that faint moment of surprise before it already fades. What good are titles or clearances when you're stuck in the middle of bumfuck nowhere without any means of accessing outside help. It means just as little as Bigby's own sheriff title does out here. ]
I'd say it means you could get us out of here if we could figure out some form of contact with the outside world, but..
[ Bigby's voice trails off, and he shakes his head. ]
It feels like we're a little further away from home than that. [ Like, a different world further away, though he's careful enough to not put it like that out loud just yet.
He has his own secrets to hide, after all. ]
no subject
It had been my thought, too, at first.
[About making contact with the outside world; she'd tried everything she could to get a better signal with her cellphone, or to turn on any of the computers and radios around town, but there's obviously something far deeper going on.
She looks thoughtful, this time the expression is entirely genuine, as she's trying to work out how to phrase her thoughts.]
There are rumors of time travel, people with Gifts who can shape time at will, but the level of decay doesn't seem right.
[She had wondered if they might be very far in the future, as it would explain some aspects of this, but the idea had fallen apart fairly quickly.
Part of her reasoning for sharing is to make it clear that she's thinking outside the box, not limited to what should be 'logical'.]
no subject
Bigby is definitely looking at her as he asks: ]
Gifts?
[ Though the fact that he's looking at her renders her able to take a good look at his eyes, if she so wishes - and she might find there's no recognition in them when it comes to that word. It's clear that he has no idea what she's talking about.
He wonders if it's some terminology from where she comes from. Or maybe something she picked up from someone else in this place. Either way, it's a term he hasn't encountered, not even among Fables. And he's pretty sure it's no mundy thing either. ]