December 2025 Test Drive Meme

[singmod]

DECEMBER 2025 TDM

IMPORTANT NOTE: THIS TDM IS THE FINAL PUBLIC APPLICATION ROUND. IF YOU ARE A NEW PROSPECTIVE PLAYER, THIS WILL BE YOUR FINAL CHANCE TO APPLY FOR THE GAME. RETURNING PLAYERS AND CURRENT PLAYERS CAN APPLY DURING THIS ROUND TOO.

A FINAL APP ROUND IN FEBRUARY WILL BE POSTED FOR RETURNING PLAYERS / CURRENT PLAYERS ONLY.

PROMPT ONE — ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST: The penultimate group of arrivals 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 — and the current inhabitants, their fellow survivors.

PROMPT TWO — JUST A SONG: A being arrives at the doors of Interlopers, causing mischief — and rewarding Interlopers for being such good sports.

PROMPT THREE — THE ICE CAVES: Interlopers find themselves as unwelcome guests in a labyrinth of ice caves.

ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST

WHEN: Mid-month.
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.

These are the words of the Darkwalker, you’ll soon come to find. This ancient creature that sneers at you, who does not want you here. Your fellow Interlopers will fill you in on this being soon enough.

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. This place has been ransacked, abandoned long ago. 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.

The sun is bright, enclosed in light fog. It is a strange kind of twilight.

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.

Or it’s possible you may come across someone else here. Someone who looks far better prepared to deal with the freezing cold and frozen landscape, out hunting or gathering. They’ll likely offer help and get you into town. However, for the unlucky ones who don’t come across anyone, you’ll carry on until you see it: the lazy trail of smoke rising in the air. Fire. Not just one, but several. Civilization...?

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. In fact, you’ll hear the muffled sounds of life. People! In the town!

As you head into the outskirts and then 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, some are dark and lifeless, some of them are boarded up, some of them are occupied. People are going about their business, or stood watching from their tiny porches of their small, timber homes. For a town this big, there doesn’t seem to be many people. Several dozen at most, but no more.

Towards the center of town, you’ll find the building from which the biggest of the smoke trail 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.

“Here we are, once again. This place continues to draw more souls in.” he nods gravely. “But I wonder for how much longer you turn up in this town. I am Methuselah. I welcome you Newcomer, although I’m sorry for how you’ve come to find yourself here. This world has been long since changed by the lights. And more change is still to come, I feel. Come. Mother Nature has not been kind to you, but there are plenty here to help.”

The room is dim, lit only by 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, and while it seems there's a few people already living here, there's enough space for those in need of them. There's places to rest for a moment and get your bearings, or just trying to recover from the cold. Down the other side are tables and chairs, and long tables laden with food, drinks and bottled water similar to one might find at a soup kitchen. Once again, Methuselah offers a feast, aided by some of the other Interlopers.

There are canisters with hot herbal teas, mostly. But some coffee can be found. There’s also soup and stew and trays of charred deer and rabbit meats, plus some grilled fish. It’s very basic, but it’s hot and filling. A feast for those who have battled the cold to come here.

Methuselah will continue to busy himself, still; there is plenty to do. He will fetch blankets, tend to wounds, serve food and drinks — aided by a handful of others in the Hall. Your fellow survivors, but those who have been here for some time now. 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 will encourage newcomers to get warm and eat, and when they are ready to — they can explore the town and find one of the many empty homes to call their own. He will not speak much, but gesture to your fellow survivors. They will have better answers than him.

JUST A SONG

WHEN: The month of December.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural creatures; folklore-inspired creatures; skeletal beings (horses); pranks/mischief.

Sounds of revelry have been heard through the streets of Milton: music, singing, bells. You can hear them from your cabin, or even as you venture through the town. It really sounds like someone’s having a pretty good time. It’s actually kind of nice to hear it, all things considered. Interlopers often find themselves with little to be cheerful about with the long night, bitter cold and difficult daily life.

Going out to find the source of such festivities will come up with nothing, however, which is both disappointing and a little unnerving. Until one night you hear the noise right at your door, and there’s the sudden boom of a knock.

Opening the door will lead to silence, but instead stands a tall being that towers higher than the door frame. Slow to move, a skull moves into view and you find yourself staring at a horse skull, adorned with ribbons, bells and flowers, its ears flicking in curiosity. Its eyes glow white in the dark. The remainder of the being’s body is covered by a huge white shroud and while it appears as a rather frightening creature — it makes no move to attack you. Instead, it stands calmly, relaxed.

Its teeth chatter for a moment, and it bursts into song: slow and cheerful:

‘I am come, dear friend, at your door to sing.
I am come, dear friend, why won’t you let me in?

If I trespass, tell me then, why that I must go.
If I trespass, state in song, you should tell me so.’

You must tell the creature, in song, why they cannot come in. It’s… almost like a game—?

So you try, singing to the creature why it cannot enter your home. But the creature is clever, and can come up with plenty of ways in which it can argue for coming inside an Interloper’s home — returning its arguments in song. It starts off a back and forth, a debate in song. Eventually, you’ll fail to come up with reasons against the creature gaining entry and fail to argue back a reply. The creature jaw chatters cheerfully and ducks — charging forwards and passes right through you. As you turn to look back inside, you’ll see nothing there — the creature is nowhere to be seen.

However, you’ll soon find yourself falling victim to a… well, it’s almost a harmless prank if anything:

Altered Speech: Interlopers find themselves talking backwards, no matter how hard they try to not. Even Interlopers with Aurora Call will find their ‘mental voice’ speaking backwards, too.

Animal Ears: Interlopers find themselves with some kind of animal ears. While they certainly don’t get the benefits of said animal’s hearing — it does make wearing hats a bit of a pain.

Confetti: Everywhere you go, rainbow-coloured confetti will fall from your head. It can either be a constant stream, like a little raincloud above your head. Or maybe it comes out when you sneeze, or cough, or even just speak.

They See You: There’s googly eyes. All shapes and sizes. Everywhere. On the furniture. On your toothbrush. On your soup can. On you. No one knows where they come from, and if you take them away — they will come back.

Plastic Wrap: When you try to go through a door, you’ll be hit in the face with plastic wrap. It won’t be every door, though. And you’ll never know if a door’s been booby-trapped with it. But any door might be one that gets you.

They keep finding a random item in every drawer

These shenanigans will keep up for several days. However, on the morning of the day after the effects have passed, Interlopers will awaken to find everything back to normal. They’ll also find at the foot of their bed a small parcel. Inside, they’ll find a sweet treat of their choice: maybe a cake or candy they like the most, something they can’t otherwise get in the Northern Territories.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

THE ICE CAVES

WHEN: The month of December.
WHERE: Everywhere…?
CONTENT WARNINGS: animal attacks / wolf attacks; supernatural animals; potential injuries, potential cold injuries/hyperthermia risk.

You wake up cold, to the sound of a great beast breathing restlessly. The sound echoes, and it feels far away and incredibly close at the same time. The air is humid, which makes the cold even more biting and the ground feels wet beneath you. As you sit up, you realise why: there are patches of ice that make up the floor, which now melt beneath your warm body. The light is dim, but you can see well enough with the soft blue glow that encompasses the area around you. As you get up to examine this glow, you realise it’s greeted by bioluminescent fungi which creep around the walls, floor and ceiling.

It’s an ice cave, and you find yourself not alone. Another is here with you.

Taking a few moments to recollect yourselves and take in your surroundings, you decide to traverse the caves in hopes of finding an exit. What meets you is a labyrinth of tunnels and atriums: all covered in the very same bioluminescent fungi and ice. The ground is slippery to walk on, and care should be taken. Every so often, the walls tremble and quake — not enough to cause any kind of cave-in, but enough to keep you on your toes.

But it’s not just you two in this cave. Not just the mysterious beast’s troubled breathing either. Something else is here, too — something far more familiar.

And soon you’ll find out: wolves.

You’ll find three here. Their eyes glowing green in the dim light. The first wolf is distinguishable by its more fluffy coat, their scruff poofs up a great deal more — tinged with white. Its approach is more softer, hoping to catch Interlopers unaware in the caves.

The second wolf is recognised by its scruffy coat, looking mangier than the others — missing chunks of it in places. This wolf is far more noisy compared to the others and tends to run more, barrelling into the Interlopers headfirst.

The third wolf is bigger than the other two, but its behaviour could only be described as being… sketchy. This wolf is far more silent, and likes to hide and stalk Interlopers from afar — even waiting for them to pass before it sneaks up from behind.

The wolves can be fought, they can even be killed — but they won’t stay down for long. Eventually, even if you’re sure they’re dead, they’ll get back up again and resume the chase of you through the caves. It’s best to keep moving and find a way out of this maze of a cave system.

You’ll find the opening soon enough, and stepping through the cave’s mouth will bring you back into a random location: you could find yourself outside a random cave in the Milton wilds, suddenly entering a long-abandonned cabin in Lakeside, or stepping inside the Frozen Angler in Silverpoint (to a confused-looking Molly). There seems to be no rhyme or reason to where you end up, and you certainly can’t go back — just hope you’re somewhere you’d like to be.

FAQs

ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST

1. Arrival threads can be treated as game canon.

2. 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.

3. 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.

4. 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. Other Interlopers will say much of the same — there's little to know about him.

5. More information about Milton can be found here.

JUST A SONG

1. The being is inspired heavily by a festive Welsh folk tradition Mari Lwyd, where participants would visit homes, singing and engaging in a rhyming battle of wits, known as pwnco. The Mari Lwyd is a figure of mischief and havoc, but also one of good luck to the homes they successfully win at entering.

2. The being can come to the same home multiple times, so Interlopers can be affected by multiple ‘prank’ effects.

3. Failure to sing at all will result in an automatic loss.

4. The being cannot be harmed, and attempts to hurt it will pass right through it. It will also mean an automatic loss — and the being might just leave you your WORST/LEAST FAVOURITE sweet treat instead.

THE ICE CAVES


1. The three wolves are a call out to the player-named unique wolves of The Long Dark who exist within internal locations: Fluffy, Scruffy and Sketchy.

2. Characters end up in the Ice Caves with whatever they happen to have on their person at the time.— if it’s typical for them to carry weapons, they’ll have this with them.

3. While the wolves will never stay dead for long, they can be killed by any means you would normally kill a wolf: bullets, knives, arrows, etc.

TALES FROM THE NORTHERN TERRITORIES NEWSLETTER

Comments

ice caves

[gascogne]

[Having woken just moments earlier, taken stock of himself and odd humidity he'd not felt since he'd been in this place, adjusted to the light when apart from the auroras now it's always dark, D'Artagnan has ventured only a few feet away from the unfamiliar man he'd found lying near him. He'd been prodding at the wall of the cave, the fungi a source of curiosity as it seems to glow from within. As he hears the startled movements of Ben getting to his feet, he turns, dagger in hand, but otherwise appearing an unassuming young man in an ill-fitting down jacket. He quirks an eyebrow at the greeting, the phrasing unknown to him and falling flat as a means of levity, yet he's somehow accidentally answering it appropriately in his own awkward way, voice rasping and lacking the inflection of concern that should be present in this situation.]

Never been.

[D'Artagnan sheathes his dagger at the small of his back, and steps away from the wall as the unsettlingly ambient breathing sounds grow apparently closer and recede again. He ignores it for now, beyond a quick glance behind them, lifting his hand to point at Ben with one finger, gesturing to the unsteady gait on the ice.]

I'm fine. You, my friend, look distressed.

[He's not had the time to perfect walking on the melting ice and its more slippery measure, but he's better off with his Milton-scavanged boots and their spiked straps he'd been fortunately wearing on his first ice fishing endeavour, the last he recalls.]

[chogsu]

( Ben hasn't even noticed the odd sound around them — it's some overarching thing he's not honed in on consciously, like static on a faraway television set. All of his senses are fixed on other things for the moment: the shocking chill of ice around them, the stranger in the room. Being a ghost for so long, a thing that existed more as a concept than a true person, adjusting to sensations is hard. He keeps getting distracted by things, knocked off-kilter by them.

It's also exciting, and he's as enthused for it as he is nervous, drawing in a steadying breath as he takes in the other man more after that very earnest response of his. Ben hadn't even noticed that weapon yet, only becoming alerted to it when D'Artagnan sheathes it, and he belatedly startles a bit at the realisation, eyebrows lifting. One hand lifts to his jacket front but makes no movement otherwise. Since waking up in this place, he hasn't really felt Them the way he usually can — that constant awareness of something pushing, pressing, restless in that strange secret world inside of him, wanting out — but that doesn't mean They aren't still there. They've always been there, even when he was dead. Maybe They've been weakened, are having to heal. Not a great idea to try and unleash a bunch of angry murderous tentacles in a cramped ice cave, anyway. It's the only way he could defend himself if he had to, but... it's never a choice he likes making. It never was.

Besides, the other man isn't acting like a threat. The weapon's tucked away, he's reaching a hand out in gesture, and Ben stares at him, giving another awkward grin, and an uncertain-sounding chuckle to go along with it. God, it's so weird that someone else can see him. Is talking to him! What the hell does he actually say now? Sorry if he keeps staring at you with awe, D'Artagnan. )

I guess I've had better days, ( he finally admits, tone light-hearted despite everything. Right on cue he wobbles again, unsteady, and gives a little sound of surprise. ) Okay, this is slippery. Uh... this is ice, right?

( He knows what it is, but only the way someone who's read up on a subject would know about a thing. He hasn't experienced ice in so long that it might as well be a foreign thing altogether. The world of the living is so strange; it's as though he's dreaming. )

[gascogne]

[D'Artagnan smiles faintly, crookedly, at the very obvious staring, unnerved by it as if under undue scrutiny. He says nothing of it though, presuming himself in some way strange to this man, as others have been to him, but without any context on why. It could be any number of things, considering the spread of times and places and cultures... and indeed, odd attributes that make one not exactly human. As Ben slips again, D'Artagnan steps closer, not quite assured in his stride, but neither is he so careful, reaching out to grasp Ben's arm, a firm grip without warning of his personal space invasion.]

It... yes, it's ice.

[One eyebrow furrowed, the other rises as he considers the reasons one might ask, mundane and completely logical reasons.]

I'm from a warmer place myself, but I've seen it. We have it. Have you been anywhere so cold before?

[Now thinking of it, he's pulling off his gloves to hand over. Surely the man must be colder than he in that leather jacket, and upon his own arrival, someone had done such a kindness for him.]

[chogsu]

( Ben tenses when the stranger moves closer, not afraid, just— not used to this. And especially not used to the grasp against his arm. He blinks widely, stare finally torn from D'Artagnan's face and going right down to stare at his hand for a long moment, wholly taken aback by the sensation. Even Klaus hadn't been able to... touch him. Not like this. The little blips of tangibility were different, but this.... it really is as though he's alive, again. )

Thanks, ( he finally says, realising that the grasp is an attempt to steady him, and he almost tentatively reaches with his free hand to hold onto D'Artagnan's arm in return. His fingers hesitate before curling into the material of his sleeve for a moment to further secure balance, loose at first, then a little tighter. Woah. He really can feel this. Whatever reality or timeline he's been brought into... he's no longer just a ghost. )

Oh, uh... ( Attention distracted by the very amazing sensation of clothing against his fingers, Ben quickly looks back up at the question. ) Nothing like this. I've kind of lived all over the place, but this is— new. All the snow and... ice.

( He blinks again as he realises the other is offering him his gloves, reaching to take them but slowly, holding one up as though to examine it. He can feel the warmth from the other man's hands still lingering against the material, fingers brushing against it. But then he's starting to hand them back, earnest. )

I don't wanna take these from you. People usually lose warmth from their fingers first, right?

( He may not have direct experience with it, but lord knows he's had years of nagging his dumbass brother to take care of himself so he doesn't wind up dead, too. How many times has he had to whisper in Klaus' ear to put on thicker socks, put on some gloves, remind him that living humans need to bundle up in the winter— ...A nurturer at heart, or maybe by necessity, or some mix of both, Ben has a hard time taking from someone else. )

[gascogne]

[There's something enduringly strange of this man, and he's starting to suspect more than unfamiliarity, perhaps a head injury. Ben does nothing to dispel that current theory with his examination of D'Artagnan's jacket and the glove. Chewing as his lip as the breathing gets louder again, he tries to be patient with this, though his instincts are to either flee or investigate — surely the latter had he been in this cave by himself.]

Generally, the extremities.

[D'Artagnan's not insistent about it, taking the gloves back without protest. A man must make his own decisions, foolish as they are. He's gotten them tugged back on just as the sound slides through in a wavering fashion, as if coming from all sides. D'Artagnan turns his gaze sharply from Ben to looking into the darkly lit crevices and tunnels around the larger cavern, apprehension growing.]

We should go. Look for a way out. It's no doubt a beast of some sort.

[Closer, suddenly, more distinct and different, a new sound, an eerie howl for its reverberation in the space more than it's strangeness. He does know it, recognisable as a wolf. D'Artagnan acts decisively then, shoving at Ben without apology.]

Go, go.

[Waving off down one larger tunnel, he sets to hustling the man along, though he knows not where he's going. They'll figure it out, he's faith in that for he refuses to die this day.]

[chogsu]

( It's probably fortunate that Ben ended up with D'Artagnan as his partner-in-crime, here. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the man who has a difficult time accepting a pair of gloves — even when the decision will come to his own detriment; it's cold in here — has little in the way of self-survival instinct or drive.

There's a reason he was the first of his siblings to be killed on a mission. That reason may have involved his bleeding heart and deep empathy! It's probably only a matter of time before both things lead him to end up dead here, too. .....Can he die again? Is he still technically dead? Would he be double dead?

Maybe, thanks to his new friend here, he'll survive the day.

That sound ripples through the chambers of the cave, and now Ben hears it too, attention alerted as he freezes, tensing up. ) Uhhh... what the fuck was— woah!

( There's a shove to his back and he's stumbling forwards in surprise, but obediently lets himself be coaxed along a few feet before he starts moving on his own, as fast as he dares. He turns his head to look back at the other man while he does, speaking in a frenzied, hushed whisper. )

I'm sorry, did you say a beast?

[gascogne]

[A short nod as he tugs on Ben's sleeve to direct the man through a smaller passageway that shoots off to the left and twists and turns, the ice underfoot thicker but perhaps thankfully less slippery for the moment.]

The nature of which, I don't know.

[D'Artagnan speaks quickly and hushed, and the howling sound again, slightly more distant.]

That is a wolf, but the other could be anything, even that unimaginable. I've seen monsters manifested from naught but thoughts, men corrupted into foul decaying creatures, heard tales of great bears and ghostly apparitions.

[chogsu]

( If there were any lingering doubts that he's somehow been made solid, the fact his new companion is fully capable of pulling him along just about settles those. Some part of Ben still half-expects to slip right through Mr. Old Timey here, but no — he stays right there with D'Artagnan, stumbling and rushing along. It gets easier the further they go, the ice no longer so slick, illuminated in that eerie blue glow. Well, easier until there's a few tremours in the walls around them.

The sound of another howl sends a shudder down Ben's spine, and he can't help thinking back to the horrors that his body serves as a vessel for. Again, probably not a good idea to unleash a mass of uncontrollable tentacles into a cavern like this, but... if it comes down to protecting themselves.... (But could he even let them out if he wanted to? Something's not right with them. It's a weirdly uncomfortable thought that he might actually be helpless right now.)

Anyway: monsters, men turned into creatures, weird animals, ghosts— )

Sounds like one of my family reunions! ( he only half jokes as he quickly takes another twisting corner, a bit more nonplussed by this variety-pack of potential nightmares than an average individual might be. That's been his reality for his entire life, after all. A lot of real weird shit. )

I think we're outrunning it, though. It sounds far away.

( Unbeknownst to him, there's more than one evil wolf to contend with, and that sketchy member of the trio is actually silently stalking them... When Ben turns another corner and comes to a solid wall, he turns around to face D'Artagnan, brows lifted. ) Dead end! We'll have to double back— Dude, watch out!

( He scrambles to pull the other man back a bit, pointing at the thing crouched low to the ground and slinking around the corner they just came from, eyes glowing green and mouth stretched into a wide grin. )

[gascogne]

[Eyebrow raised, D'Artagnan thinks to ask if he might be one of said creatures — he knows others to be capable of somehow transforming into wolves, but he's yet to witness it — but they encounter the wall, and he can feel the tremors in the side of the tunnel where he's placed his hand. Ben has repaid his 'favour' in kind by pulling him away from the wolf, but as he settles low beside the other man, D'Artagnan knows they've not avoided any of its surveillance. The wolf before them is menacing in a quiet way, the odd glow of its eyes not quite as unnerving as the slant of its mouth, the odd animal equivalent of a smirking satisfied smile, incongruent with what he knows of them.]

I didn't hear it at all.

[This one. D'Artagnan moves slowly, drawing his hand behind his back to retrieve his dagger once again. He keeps his eyes on the wolf's, direct and trying not to show any fear, of which he truly does feel very little, it's more a burgeoning excitement. The trembling starts again, and small bits of ice and rock crack down between their position and the wolf, neither the sketchy creature nor D'Artagnan move with it, a standoff.]

Is there another turn?

[His voice is hardly above a whisper, as if the wolf may very well discern what it is he asks.]

[chogsu]

( The thing's creepy, even for a wolf. It's as ethereal as the rest of this place, the way its eyes glow and the way it moves like that. So quiet and slick it's almost as though it haunts the space more than anything.

Ben half-crouches down, looking quickly around the space and keeping his voice a whisper, though he knows the thing already knows they're there. How long has it been following them? This can't possibly be the same one that howled before, right? No way it got to them that fast. )

I don't think so— I think we're trapped!

( They'll have to go back out the way they came, try another twist. But to do that, they'll have to get past the wolf, and... that's a pretty daunting thought. Heart pounding (what a weird sensation), Ben reaches for a few smaller pieces of cave that have crumbled off nearby after the tremours. )

Okay. What if I... what if I throw some rocks at it, try to scare it off? You start running, I'll follow you.

( He is maybe a little too willing to be The Sacrifice here, but some things never change. )

[gascogne]

[Inhaling audibly through his nose, a deep breath, D'Artagnan prepares himself for the inevitability of facing the wolf. Trapped, it is. Ben's latter comment has him taking his eyes from the beast to glare back indignantly at the very suggestion he should run and be under the other man's protection.]

I'm no maiden in need of your chivalry, sir.

[Acerbic but somehow still light and not venomous, it is loud enough to call forth a eerily faint growl from the wolf as if it not fully present in this realm. D'Artagnan reaches over quickly to steal the cave crumblings from Ben's hand and lob them directly at the wolf's face, provoking it in his need to assert himself. It immediately leaps at them.]

[chogsu]

( Ben's all ready for this plan of action. To him, there's no question — he fights, clears the way, helps the other members of any given party find safety. Okay, yeah, there's probably layers of unhealthy psychological reasons why he so easily offers to be the martyr of any given situation, but — there's a practical side to things, too.

He's dead. (Right? Even if he's... solid right now, and visible, that doesn't change the fact he's dead.) He's already died. His life isn't a life, doesn't matter as much as someone else who's a real living breathing person with so much potential. That's been his reality for longer than he can remember. That's been behind every painstaking attempt to keep his stupid brother alive before he can wind up like Ben.

Keep everyone else safe from the shadows. It's the plan, and he's all ready to enforce it here too, when the other guy says what he does and Ben's eyebrows lift — first in surprise, then frustration as he hisses another series of quick whispers at him. )

Oh my god dude, it's not like that— I'm already dead— Hey!

( It's at this point that the situation escalates about as badly as it possibly can. )

Shit shit shit shit! ( Ben, in some instinctive act, shoves D'Artagnan away from him as hard as he can, and rolls the opposite way, and hopefully this means they both avoid being pounced on by an evil demon wolf. It also means they're on opposite sides of the little cave room now though, and he's scrambling quickly to his feet, back pressed against the wall as he looks over at the other man. The wolf snarls and turns around quickly, but somehow its claws still don't make any scraping sounds against the ice; the thing's unnaturally quiet. Head whipping from one potential victim to the other, it seems to be considering its next move. )

Great! Got any idea what to do now, Einstein?

[gascogne]

[He'd been ready to pounce on the wolf, as much as a man can do such a thing, wrestle with it, stab it, slay the wretched beast, but no. With Ben's unexpected shove, D'Artagnan loses his footing on the ice enough to slam his shoulder into the the cave wall opposite his 'saviour' as the wolf stands between them. D'Artagnan straightens, one hand on the wall, the other waved ineffectually at the wolf, for there in front of it lies his main-gauche, the dagger the only weapon they'd had.]

Thank you for that.

[He scoffs at Ben, his droll tone laced with obvious sarcasm, but his ire almost peripheral, for he does keep watch of the wolf. They've, well he'd provoked it sufficiently, but it seems to be torn between them, or strategising a plan in which both of them fall to its sharp teeth and claws. It's intelligent.]

What is Einstein?

[The question is perfunctory, uttered with the tinge of exasperation of a man who need enquire of words and phrases and objects far too frequently as of late. He shrugs slightly, his offering of a plan vague and base.]

It can't take us both at once. On three?