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singillppl2023-12-06 12:21 am
singmod) wrote in singillppl2023-12-06 12:21 am
Entry tags:
December 2023 Test Drive Meme
DECEMBER 2023 TDM
PROMPT ONE — ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST: A new 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 — not to mention the fact they are not the first to come here.
PROMPT TWO — MISTY FALLS CAVE: The Interlopers go out in search of a hidden cave in the mountains found by Methuselah, which may still contain the hidden stash of a doomsday prepper. However, they get a little more than they bargained for when they venture inside.
PROMPT THREE — SERPENT'S BREATH: Interlopers investigate the mysterious cause of whatever is killing and poisoning the wildlife and vegetation of the area — and discover a supernatural creature is behind it.
ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST
WHEN: Mid-Decmber.
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 a long time. The fire is cold, the dishes in the sink are pretty 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.
It’s possible you may come across someone here. Another fellow Interloper, 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. Civilisation…?
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 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.
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.
“Ah, even more, still. Just as I thought.” he muses. “I wonder if this is perhaps the new status quo. I am Methuselah. I welcome you Newcomer, although I’m sorry for how you’ve come to find yourself here. You are not the only one, the lights are changing things. They bring more of you every so often. 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, 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 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 and coffee, along with soup and stew and trays of charred deer and rabbit meats, plus grilled fish. There's also things like instant mashed potatoes, and tinned vegetables. It’s very basic, but it’s hot and filling. A feast, although newcomers will note from others who have been here some time that this particular feast is less bountiful this time.
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.
He will encourage newcomers to get warm and eat, and when they are ready to — they can explore the time and find one of the many empty homes to call their own. He will not speak much, but perhaps you might be able to get some answers from those fellow arrivals who’ve been in this place for some time now.
However, he will speak of something important, and will gladly share with others: “I have been looking for something for you all. There was once a townsfolk I knew of: Matthew. A suspicious, paranoid old miner who was interested in Prepping. He often spoke of the world coming to an end and strived to survive it. He often spoke of a cache hidden in the mountains, where he collected things of value. I have found the place, a hidden cave, but I am unable to get through, myself.”
… Well, he is an old man, after all.
“There are signs outside, so it is promising it is still intact. Perhaps the cache is still there. It might provide something useful for your growing numbers.”
MISTY FALLS CAVE
WHEN: Mid-month, onwards.
WHERE: Milton Outskirts.
CONTENT WARNINGS: booby traps; claustrophobic situations; potential injury/maiming; potential hyperthermic situations; exploration horror;
Methuselah gives directions to those willing to check out the lead for the old prepper cache. Following the river up from Milton Basin will lead to rugged, difficult pathways up towards Misty Falls — a waterfall, the river source itself. Most of the river is completely frozen with the freezing temperatures, but it is not completely so the closer to the source you go. Misty Falls is certainly idyllic, or it would be perhaps on a fine summer’s day — good for a nice hike. But the place looks desolate in the eternal winter cursing the Northern Territories.
The half-frozen waterfall is a din of sound, but the water itself is incredibly fresh and cooling for those hot and tired from the hike up. Those paying attention might notice a small space between the water and rock, big enough to squeeze through to get behind the waterfall itself. In the small space, the entrance to a small cave can be found. There are faded handmade signs, all in the same hand, reading ‘DANGER KEEP OUT’ and it isn’t too far of a stretch to wonder if perhaps this might be the secret stash of the old miner that Methuselah spoke of.
Venturing into the cave will not be an easy task. It seems the old miner was keen to keep any trespassers out, and most of this comes down to the cave itself. The walls of the cave quickly narrow, with only enough space to walk in single file. Jutting stone will easily make those stumble and trip. Occasionally the cave’s passage becomes narrower, meaning one might have to stoop or even crawl to carry on through. Here and there, the uneven floor dips, and your feet will find themselves in shin-deep frigid water. It’s slow-going, even if the actual passage itself isn’t incredibly long.
But perhaps the worst of all is the pressing darkness. A darkness so black even with lanterns switched off, one’s eyes cannot adjust to it. It is smothering, pressing. The air is stale and damp, you feel small — and the cave itself still presses in on you. The miner also kept a few tricks up his sleeve in order to keep out intruders. There are dead-ends, making it easy to get lost. Trip wires are hidden in the darkness, causing small man-made cave-ins to fall upon unsuspecting heads.
It might be safer, saner to give up and turn back. But persevering will see the cave opening up once more, this time widening into a room. The place is fashioned into some crude shelter. There is furniture, lanterns to be lit.
With more light, the miner’s stash is revealed: the painstaking, time-costing work of a paranoid old recluse. Crates of non-perishable foods, MREs, and bottled water. Medicines and basic medical supplies, flares and tools.
A perfect supply of survival goods, ripe for the taking.
SERPENT'S BREATH
WHEN: Throughout the month.
WHERE: The entirety of the Milton area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: mentions of dead animals; malevolent creature; snakes/serpents; poison/airborne toxins; potential poisonings; potential burn injuries; potential (temporary) blinding.
It’s noticed in different ways: perhaps a trail of dead animals stands before you, each one with no particular injury other than what appears to be burned hides and flesh — it is as if the wildlife simply dropped dead, for the most part. Perhaps you notice huge, tunnel-like grooves in the deepest parts of the snow, a few feet in width — as if something long and thick had made its way through to clear a path. More worryingly for some, they might notice trails of rot: destroyed trees, decaying plant life, as if the very earth itself has been scorched in the wake of something passing through, leaving nothing but destruction and devastation.
Something is destroying the flora and fauna of the world. There seems to be no pattern, simply the random trails all over the place. There appears to be no other tracks, other than the long, smooth tunnel-like pathways. Whatever it is, it must be stopped. Resources are so precious in this world, if the beast is allowed to continue then all who live here will soon starve due to lack of animals to hunt and plants to gather.
Following the tunnels is a sure-way to hunt the beast down, although these paths will lead far from town. It is best to go prepared. But soon enough, you may come across the slumbering beast, curled up on the snow or coiled underneath some jutting space of stone along the mountains. You’ll hear and smell it before you see it: the long grumbling snores as it sleeps, and the putrid stench of rot. Everything in you tells you to flee, much like when an animal senses something toxic, or poisoning.
You press on, finally stumbling across the beast: a long, serpent-like dragon, with tremendous horns and fangs, coloured with muted grey scales and huge, glowing, flamed eyes.
The element of surprise will work in your favour to try and kill the beast, but it will give up a good fight. It will take several rounds of fights with it before it will finally be taken down permanently. It moves quickly, with scales like steel. Its eyes and mouth are its weakest spots, as is the soft underbelly of its body — fire will work well on harming this beast, especially with a well aimed shot into its mouth.
Its open mouth is where it holds its most powerful weapon. Not the fangs, no. The very reason why the air smells of rot, why the wildlife lay dead, why the earth decays at your feet: its breath. The beast’s breath is highly toxic, it will burn the skin of those it comes into contact with. Breathing in the fumes will poison those who breathe it in, and will cause a weakening, sickly illness. The breath may even temporarily blind.
These injuries are not fatal, and will heal with time and the basic medical attention available in the world. Victims will require rest for at least a week, depending on how severe the blast of the serpent’s breath. But killing the best will ensure its havoc is brought to an end.
FAQs
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.
1. Tools found would be basic survival/camping tools one might expect: knives, hand axes, rope, handsaws, torches, batteries, etc.
1. The Stoor Worm, or Mester Stoor Worm, was a gigantic evil sea serpent of Orcadian folklore, capable of contaminating plants and destroying animals and humans with its putrid breath. Assipattle, the youngest son of a local farmer, defeated the creature by flinging still-burning peat into its mouth. As it died its teeth fell out to become the islands of Orkney, Shetland and the Faroes, and its body became Iceland.
2. It is possible the harvest the beast once it is killed, particularly for its fangs and skin. The skin/scales will provide ample protection to try to use it for armouring themselves. The fangs would provide useful for crafting knives or weapons.
3. It is... technically possible to eat the meat of the beast. Care should be taken in butchering, however. And it is not advised to eat the head.
( @ 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 ) cw: bleeding, throwing up blood
So he's quickly gathering up the items he'd found (each one a different horror to come across: a photo of himself in uniform, an X-ray from the facility he'd escaped from, and a little doll), tucking them into his clothing and heading off. He's at least managed to keep a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, but it's little protection against the cold, and the clothing he's arrived in is ill-suited for it: a thin green track suit, a simple white tee-shirt, plain trainers on his feet. He's shuddering uncontrollably as he moves through the town, trying to lie low, creeping around buildings and sticking to their walls.
But he's hurt, ill. There's dark red blood caked on the man's mouth and chin, dried by now, but his stomach coils with ache and nausea, and he can taste blood in the back of his throat. He has to pause several times to lean against the nearest solid surface, or lean over with his eyes shut tightly, coaxing himself through his sickness. He has to locate a phone. Has to contact his mother. And then..... the orphanage. He has to get Aleksei. What if the military goes for the boy, to use him as bait for their wayward science experiment?
It's a slow process, checking abandoned homes. He goes for the ones that don't have any lights on, trying to keep away from people — creeping carefully up to back windows to peer inside. But eventually he's too sick to think entirely straight, stumbling across a small cabin that may not be entirely abandoned... all but collapsing against one of its front windows, palm smacking the glass with a hard thud. Then he's losing the battle against himself, doubling over as his stomach and throat convulse, spilling more dark red blood onto the snow-covered porch. ]
i'm so sorry it took me so long to get to this....
Eventually he returns to the place he calls home, throws a little extra wood on the fire (it's never quite warm enough, he doesn't know if it's ever the right temperature) and sits down at his kitchen table, laden with art materials and sheets upon sheets of paper with half-finished drawings on them. He plans on giving portraits to those he knows, for Christmas. Because that's normal, isn't it? And it distracts him from another date coming up, one that comes four days before.
He doesn't get to work for long. Suddenly, there's a hand smacking the glass of his window with a loud thud that makes him jump out of his skin. Kieren leaps from his seat, staring for a beat before he hurries to the door — indignation and fear all rolled into one. ]
Mate, what the fuck— [ He stops. Stares. Eyes huge as he sees the blood half-melting and then half-freezing blood upon the snow of his porch. Kieren openly balks, Jesus— what does he do, what's he supposed to do?
His voice softens, cracks as he speaks again. ]
Hey, hey— you okay?
[ Obviously not, he tells himself. ]
NO WORRIES EVER (cw: mention of parasitic alien)
....Is it? He can't feel the mental connection to the horror, the way he'd been able to over the past weeks since it took up residence inside of him, began to force the two of them to "bond". He can't sense its presence at all, but he thinks he physically feels it, a foreign sensation inside of him, something that makes him unbearably sick, nauseated. It takes up nearly all of the space inside of his stomach, and without the medication that the facility scientists gave him to null those effects....
But if it's inside of him... why isn't he healing? It makes no sense. Unless it, too, is wounded, perhaps needs much time to recover.... He can't know, only knows one thing in this moment, and it's pain and discomfort. He hears the door open but can't attempt to look over, just throwing up that stream of thick blood before it tapers off a bit, and with it, his strength dies. Konstantin topples over onto the snowy porch, and slowly tries to roll over onto his back and sit up a little bit, spine pressed against the porch railing as he weakly lifts his head up and blinks glossily at the person in the doorframe.
...It's a young man, doe-eyed, startled. Konstantin's giving ragged breaths, tries to swallow against the taste of blood in his throat. Tries to speak, and manages to, although it's weakly, and his eyes are going half-lidded with each word as he fights to stay conscious. ]
Do you..... have a phone, son....?
no subject
Shuffling around the blood, Kieren crouches down near the man, hands raised but hovering, not really sure what to do. He doesn't know if he should touch him, or anything. This... really isn't his thing. Like he has no clue what he's supposed to be doing here. But he can answer his question, at least, his head shaking a little. ]
No. [ He exhales, and then apologetically. ] Th—they don't work anymore.
[ And even if they might spark into life during the Auroras, there doesn't seem to be any way of calling anyone. There's not even any internet. Kieren swallows, hovering a little more. He can't just... leave the guy out here. ]
Listen, it's not good for you to be out here when you're... when you're like this. [ He wets his lips, a little awkward, and shuffles forward to try and manhandle the man into sitting up properly. ] C'mon. Let's get you inside, yeah?
no subject
But there are phones here. Perhaps he can take a look at them; he's skilled in such things, knows the inner workings of most technology. If he can just get to one..... Never mind that he's likely about to pass out.
Konstantin doesn't offer any resistance to being coaxed upwards, although the process might not be easy for poor Kieren; he's a tall and heavy man, well-muscled, stature sturdy. He at least tries to help him a little, tensing before he gives a sharp hiss of pain upon shrugging one shoulder upwards, and then the other — trying to help himself sit up. His eyes loll a bit, half-lidded as he tries to keep his head lifted, looking up at the younger man. Inside.... Yes, he needs to get inside. Out of this cold, closer to the phone he means to take a look at... but he's mostly going to have to help himself do it. There's no way this willowy youth can lug him inwards without help. ]
I'll help. I can move. [ He nods, weakly, but he slowly pushes his palms against the snow beneath him, starts willing his exhausted body upwards. It's difficult, but he forces himself even as he's groaning in pain, grabbing onto the nearby porch railing and wrapping one arm around it as he gets himself to his feet. He's leaning forwards then with a wave of nausea, his other hand finding the boy's arm, holding on. ]
I'm sorry for this. I've been— I've been hurt. Someone hurt me.
no subject
(He'd maybe try to drag him, but god that's awkward.)
But he tries, tries to work with the man to manhandle him up to his feet. His skin crawls a little, the feeling of being so close to someone else, someone strange to him. Kieren pushes through it, thinking maybe the man's too sick to notice anything off about him. He gives the man a second to find his footing before he shuffles, wrapping one of his arms around the man's middle to try to keep him supported. ]
There we go, c'mon. Just this way, yeah? Okay, no it's— [ I've been hurt. Someone hurt me. It makes his stomach flip uncomfortably, and he's sure he can feel a flash of cold sweat wash over him. Someone hurt him? Enough to have him... puking up blood.
Kieren swallows hard, his head turning to look about them with wide eyes, then across to the man. Shit. He wastes little time in getting them both inside, moving to gently deposit the man on the loveseat in front of the fire before quickly moving to shut the door. ]
Are they here? Was it... was it someone here that did this?
[ Does he need to...... like, tell someone? ]
cw: mention of suicide
He lets the younger man help him, although maintains the resilience to help himself, too. Stumbling, not leaning his full weight on the boy. It's only when he's guided to the loveseat that Konstantin lets himself collapse again, head falling back, eyes closing for a long moment as he sits through the coils of dizziness and nausea. He's painfully aware he's a mess, mouth and chin covered in blood, as well as his shirt front.
Dark eyes peeling open at the question, the man looks over at Kieren, panting quietly to catch his breath. Technically.... yes, the person who'd done this is here. Right here, on this seat. Here when he shouldn't be. He should be dead. ]
Not here. It happened... back. Back where I was before. Kazakhstan. ...But I am from Russia.
[ He's heard, by now, that this place is Canada. How....? How was he brought here so quickly? Inbetween his soft grunts of pain, Konstantin's looking around the modest cabin interior, taking in what he can see. It's small, seems too small for more than one person to live in, but the boy could be pretty young... he has a youthful face; he could be a teenager. There could be a mother and father. People who might want to alert the authorities. Konstantin's eyes drag back to him, managing a little smile, an attempt to mask the anxiety bubbling up within him. ]
Are you here alone? I don't want to frighten your parents.
no subject
You're pretty far from home. Or— maybe not so far. I... don't know the exact geography of this place. Somewhere in Canada, I guess. [ He's rambling a little. Mostly from the anxiety, mostly because he's reeling at the fact there is a man from Russia covered in blood on the couch, and also because he doesn't want to quite address the question.
Still, he stares at the blood. What's he supposed to do with that? He doesn't even know first aid. His throat feels tight. ... is he going to die on him? Finally, he shakes his head. ]
They're not here. I—I... I came alone. [ He swallows thickly and he has to look away. Instead he can focus on other things more important: he turns, moves to throw more wood on the fire and goes in search of blankets, maybe put some water on to boil — something to clean the blood away with, maybe make some tea to warm him up. It's something, even in his frenzied, lost energy. It's not doing something. If he's dying, the least Kieren can do is make the man comfortable.
He returns quickly, setting water on to boil on the fire. Blankets in his arms which he sets covering the man with. And then... a plastic bowl, to which Kieren winces. ]
... in case you need to, um. Throw up. Again.
I know this is a tdm thread so no worries if you need/want to let it go btw!!!
There's a grim little smile at that, an odd fluttering skip of his heart as he listens to the boy speak. It's part of his existence, such a huge part of it. An essential part. You're gone from home, from humanity, from Earth itself. It's what you spend years preparing for, shaping your mind and body, adjusting the limits of yourself: expanding them so that you can handle more. Be more.
So that you can leave home. And it's the return that holds all the glory — the rewards after all the risk and danger and sacrifice. The songs written always talk about the return, what will be returned to.
how we were the first to reach the cherished goal
and from the greater distance, look at Mother Earth
..."Return" represented something different for him. He was afraid to. If he could have stayed up there in the cold darkness forever, he would have. He was always happiest the further he was from home.
And now, there's some horrible irony to the fact he wants nothing more than to be back home, to his country — to his son. He knows what he needs to do, what he has to do, and he can't do it. He can't fulfill this mission. Perhaps he has already failed it. They could go for Aleksei. They might even hurt him.
'They're not here. I—I... I came alone.'
That pulls Konstantin out of his weighted thoughts, and pulls the corners of his mouth down a bit with it into a soft frown. He... came here alone? With no family? (Came, or was brought? Forced? There are so many questions. At the top of everything is the thought that this is such an isolated place to be alone.) The boy is moving away then, looking away and fetching things, and Konstantin doesn't push the matter further. It must be... extremely difficult for someone so young to be without their family. Even now, a man nearly in his forties, Konstantin misses his mother. (And Aleksei is.... completely alone. The thought makes his heart ache unbearably, and he coughs again, places a hand to his chest as the youth returns with the bowl.) ]
Thank you. [ He takes it, sets it carefully down onto his lap. ] Hopefully I won't need this, but... better safe than sorry.
[ He manages a little laugh, careful, before his expression becomes more severe again. ]
And thank you for... letting me come in. It must have been a shock to see.... [ A man collapsed in the snow, spitting up blood. He doesn't want to frighten anyone, and looks for some of the ways he knows to introduce himself, lessen the borders around the word "stranger". His smile turns warm, even if he's still trembling a little. ]
My name is Konstantin. Believe it or not, this isn't even the furthest I've been from home. Just before this, I was up in space.