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.
you do ONE MUTINY and steal ONE CAPTAIN and suddenly YOU'RE the bad guy
Hickey stays perfectly still as Edward walks forward. The question gets a low little chuckle before Hickey points out, "Who's left with you? Le Vesconte? Bridgens? How many of them showed up with you?"
He suspects he knows what the answer is: none of them. After all, he didn't show up with Crozier, Tozer, Hodgson, any of his men. Why would Edward be different?
"We're in a brave new world, Lieutenant. And yet you still follow your old rules."
Hickey's life is cruel! Unjust! All he asked for was to Dethrone God!!
Something wounded flickers across Edward's eyes and then settles in deeply there, darkening the browns of them to something more blackened. But Hickey's words have some... sense to them, as much as none of this makes sense. He'd woken in a small cabin alone. Clearly, they've all been... separated. Placed here. It must be some grand kidnapping. Some madness. Why not? The madness would only continue; it seems fitting.
Regardless, his silence in response to Hickey's question is probably telling of the answer.
".....Then we must find them." Finally he speaks, with a swell of desperate resolve. Right, then. Action. He must take action. Edward stays where he is, which is a few safe feet from the other man, but nudges the end of his gun quickly towards the ground. "Toss that knife here and take a step back. You'll stay with me. We'll search together."
notice him, bear-sempai
"Search for what? People who aren't here? You can waste your time doing that all you want. I'm focusing on the here and now."
Which would be a much more impressive statement if the here and now wasn't robbing corpses.
no subject
His eyes move down to the corpse near Hickey's feet, and he doesn't try to hide his disgust.
"Were it not for the frost collected on that poor soul, I would assume you were responsible for yet another fresh murder." A tremour sounds at the hollow of his throat. "How can you stand there, so proud, after what you've done? Was Irving not your comrade as much as your superior? Three years spent with that man — do you feel nothing?"
no subject
Crozier, perhaps. Once upon a time. But any feeling that the man could have been a companion instead of something to surpass was lashed out of him.
"Lieutenant Irving," and there's a mocking tone in his voice as he says his title, "was a fool. A pious idiot of a man who wouldn't be able to survive, to acclimate to what needs to be done." He lets out a low little chuckle before, "Honestly, it's best for him that I murdered him when I did. How many rations does your camp have left? Or have you moved on to other means of sustenance that aren't slowly killing you?"
no subject
Truly, he still doesn't know what to make of Cornelius Hickey. This petty officer who'd largely existed well beneath Little's scope of vision, until he began causing a problem here, then there, enough to land his name on Little's radar, but this... this shift, it still baffles him, even if the captain seemed unsurprised to have seen it coming. (Edward longs for Crozier's wisdom now, feels his heart freshly sink like a stone at his own isolation. Alone with this fiend, he... he does not know what to do with a man like this.)
His nostrils quiver, his own horror and upset by poor Irving's death having had no time to ease, to process. He wants to scream, to rage, but he stands there with everything still inside, trembling. Some part of him still tries to keep its composure; it's all he can do. Not let this man see how his words have affected him (...and some part knowing Hickey already does know.) Instead, frowning deeply at the other's words, shaking his gun at him again—
"What are you talking about? What sustenance?"
They haven't begun the cannibalism quite yet, when he's from! Fun things ahead, etc.
no subject
But then again, he already knew he was better than these men. That he was more capable. This only proves it.
"You'll figure it out soon enough," Hickey says, with a little shrug. "After all, the tins can only last so long. And even if you do manage to find some natives, trade for food, you've got a few dozen men left. You won't be able to feed them all. You'll need to make some choices."
no subject
....But he has not thought of what Hickey alludes to. No, his thoughts have not come to it, to such horrible things, and he doesn't like the carefree manner with which the other man treats this matter. Something.... lingers, an uneasiness pressing through the discomfort of this entire situation as it is. Hickey's plans, whatever he's got up his sleeve — Edward isn't prepared to handle that. His role is to keep order, not... not to outsmart a devious madman.
"That's enough!" Little barks (not knowing what else to say to this, to any of it.) "I know you are trying to steal my focus, keep me preoccupied. Meanwhile, the men whose minds you've poisoned may be tormenting our captain as we speak.... I'll not ask you again, where is he? Which of these buildings is he in? You will take me to him."
no subject
A new phase of the Arctic with houses. And other travelers. And corpses.
The Lieutenant's stubbornness and delusions would be endearing if it wasn't here, wasn't now, if he wasn't right up next to Hickey, saying these things and bothering him and desperately refusing to see the truth of what's in front of them, the truth that Hickey already knows. He takes a step closer towards Little, so he can look the man directly in the eyes as he hisses,
"He. Is not. Here. I've no idea where Crozier is, if he's even here to begin with. I arrived her alone. None of my men, none of your men, just me. If I say it enough, will you finally believe it?"
no subject
But it shakes him to the core, those words. He's still at some loss, eyes wide and wild, breaths coming in short hitches, a tight knot under his sternum.
Alone.
He is alone here. Himself, and Hickey. It cannot be, shouldn't be, and yet somehow... it is, at least for this moment. (This moment, what does he do in this moment?)
".... I cannot let you go. Surely you must know that." Edward narrows his eyes at the other man, slowly. "There is a hanging to be finished. For you, and Tozer. For what you have done."
The lieutenant's tone deepends, darker; yes, that's right. Go back to what was happening before — the trial, the sentencing, the aftermath.... it must continue. "Until we find the captain, you are going to be put where I can keep an eye on you, demon."
He casts a quick look to the side; any number of these abandoned buildings could be used to contain a mutinous madman.
no subject
He stays close to Little, looking up at him, scowl on his face as he points out, "And what will you do if we don't find him? Hang me? I do wonder what the others will think about your form of justice."
Hickey gestures to the corpse on the ground that he was just trying to rob. "I don't know that man from Adam. One dead stranger means that there's probably a few live ones as well. What will they think? New arrival here, almost instantly going to try and murder someone. Not a good first impression."
There's a nasty little smirk on his face as he points out, "You don't realize it yet. But you'll want me alive."
no subject
"I— of course not—!" He fumbles with the words, with the idea of it. Hanging a man on his own.... the thought clearly disturbs him, turns his stomach. Uncomfortable, forced to think about it those steps further by this man who thinks in steps ahead... The questions are valid ones, is the real horror of it. (That smirk Hickey wears as he makes that claim is another; something unpleasant ripples under his skin.)
"Unlike you, Mr. Hickey, I'm not so eager to take the life of a man," Little scowls. "You can be contained in one of these spare buildings until I sort out what to do with you, and you can either come willingly or by force. I'll not leave you wandering around to do God knows what to the first live person you may encounter."
He pauses, once again about to tell the man to drop that knife, but it's clear he won't, so......
"Put that blade in your pocket and keep your hands lifted. You will walk in front of me, to that building there." Little tips his head in the direction of a relatively small house just up ahead, its door wide open and not a single source of light illuminating from within its dark, frosted-over windows, clearly abandoned.
( ooc — fjf;f Nedward please.... He's trying so hard...... All this said, feel free to have Hickey make a quick escape if you'd want him to (he absolutely will not shoot at him LOL), or Little could actually get him inside and think he's got Hickey secured, only to find out he escaped later or something.... HOWEVER YOU WANT TO PLAY IT I'M COOL! )
no subject
Yeah, fuck that.
There are a few things that are obvious in Cornelius Hickey's mind. Chief among them is that Edward Little has no clue what he's doing. Expecting him to go along, playing nice and following the orders of someone who again, has no clue what he's doing? Let himself be locked in a room for who knows how long?
Again, fuck that.
So Hickey takes a step back, so he's not as in Edward's face as he was before...and just bolts, outright trying to run the hell away from the man, ducking behind whatever nearby house or obstacle or alley way he can find. Again! Not gonna do what you say, buddy! And, based on how rattled the good Lieutenant is, Hickey also doubts that he'll shoot. Time to make an expeditious and well-thought-out retreat from the situation (aka run away like a little bitch).
[ ooc: Ned, baby, sweetie, please think literally more than one step ahead for your own sake. But yeah, I AM ALSO COOL so feel free to give chase / let him go away / time jump to sometime later post "ohhhhh shit the captain really isn't here, where's my dad" / whatever u want! ]
no subject
He's still glancing towards that nearest building as the other man takes that step backwards and— Little's mind reacts a second or two after, eyes wide and shocked as he watches him run.
"N— HICKEY!"
Little bellows out, gun raised again, aimed in the direction of the sprinting figure, but Hickey's fast-footed and ducking behind things (and even now, would he really shoot? Could he?)
...He doesn't. Heart pounding, throat tight and head buzzing with white-hot static, Edward hurriedly lowers his gun and starts running, heavy boots thudding against the snow-covered ground. But even as he runs, searches, calling out the fiend's name a second and then third time.... he isn't to be found.
The lieutenant pants for breath, feeling horror and sickness welling up within him. He's stunned by it, by what he's allowed to happen — he had the enemy there and let him get away. (....But was Hickey even really there at all? All of this is surreal, dreamlike; perhaps he is losing his mind.)
He'll remain standing there in the center of town for some time in his own daze, until perhaps he is found by someone else, another lost interloper wandering through.
( ooc — Since we're on the cusp of the game opening / apps are open now, I figured I'd lead this to a wrap and look forward to potentially seeing how their next meeting might go once the game's open!!! god lmao imagining Hickey just successfully evading Little for the next few days... You'll never catch him alive, Nedward.... )