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singillppl2023-12-06 12:21 am
singmod) wrote in singillppl2023-12-06 12:21 am
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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.
cw: blood / spitting up blood
'A Russian no threat?'
....Ah. Now those words are telling. Coming into this place from the early eighties, Konstantin has spent all of his life knowing of certain tensions, and of course being smack-dab in the middle of them, given his choice of career. It's unsurprising an American would react to his presence with hostility. (And would no doubt become more hostile towards him if this aggressor knew just what Konstantin's role were — a proud cosmonaut, a beloved Commander, and the ideal picture of the New Soviet Man.)
His lips move, but no true words form, because in the next moment, his throat is rippling with a heave, and a fresh swell of blood bubbles up and out of his lips, spilling down his chin. Konstantin shudders convulsively, shaking all over as his head tips forwards and he spills more blood down between them. Sorry, Rorschach.... ]
no subject
Ennng!
[A growling sound of disgust made its way up from Rorschach's throat as the lower half of his pants and shoes were splattered in blood. He let go of the Russian, certain the man was in no condition to attack him or try to get away. Rorschach observed Konstantin's form with a scowl.]
Then again, you look more dead than alive already.
[Perhaps he'd do Rorschach a favor and just drop dead. It would keep him from having to get his hands dirty.]
no subject
Sorry— I'm sorry. [ He manages to say, fingers curling tightly into the material of his tight white tee-shirt. Is this man an interrogator? What will he do next? Konstantin has no idea, has no strength left, has nothing but his words to try and take care of this situation, to appease it somehow. He feels like he'll pass out any second, but sheer resilience keeps him awake, eyes fluttering. ]
I'm sick. I'm just— sick. [ He's panting for a few more moments before he forces his head upwards, tilted back against the support of the wall behind him. The man may not answer his question, or may try to hurt him again.... but what else can he do? Try to find out more about this situation. Try to make sure he's not perceived as a threat. It's okay to ask questions; anyone would. ]
Do you work here? Are you the one they sent to question me?
no subject
If that was the case, all Rorschach had to do was wait. He doubted even Dr. Goodsir could save this particular patient, not with the lack of advanced medical technology they had here. He stayed standing, looming over the cosmonaut now, though he wasn't quite as much of an aggressive bulldog as he'd been. There was no doubt now the man really was as ill as he looked, so it wasn't as if he was going to try to attack Rorschach anytime soon.
'They.' Rorschach understood what the meaning was behind that question immediately, given his paranoia and the tangled way at which he viewed his own country's government.]
Place isn't organized enough for that. No form of government.
[Which was both a good and bad thing. Right now, everyone was getting along, but if the chips were down the usually civilized population could start eating one another alive. If that happened, Rorschach knew he'd be hard-pressed to stop it. Still, he decided to make it clear what his own self-proclaimed role here was.]
But I protect the people here from threats nonetheless. That includes you.
[With the toe of a bloodstained boot (he'd have to see if he could scrub it out later, blood was always so damn difficult to get out of all pieces of clothing) he nudged Konstantin curiously to see if he even had enough energy to react to that stimulus.]
no subject
He's lowering his hand again when the strange masked man nudges him with his shoe, giving a soft grunt of pain, letting his head loll to the side for a moment, brows furrowed in agitation, but not aggression. Mostly it all just hurts, makes him feel sick; he wants nothing more than to find the nearest soft surface and lie down on it. Lose himself to his exhaustion. ]
I told you, I'm not a threat.
[ Again, it's not true. But he doesn't know what this guy might... know, about his situation. This clearly isn't the same facility he was in before, but surely there must be a connection, right? Perhaps he's been transferred somewhere, clearly to an entirely different country.... Perhaps his new holders don't know exactly what's wrong with him, or else surely they'd keep him confined to a solitary room. If that's the case, he should play dumb about the creature. ]
"The people here".... You mean this is a community? Everyone here isn't a prisoner?
no subject
[Rorschach corrected him. His natural paranoia combined with his distrust of nearly everyone around him meant he could see nothing in front of him but a potential enemy. If by some chance he recovered from whatever it was which was plaguing him, he'd definitely move from the position of potential enemy to actual enemy.
The question of whether or not the people here were prisoners caused the first sign of hesitation in Rorschach he'd shown in front of Konstantin. His head tilted a little to the left as he considered the question. It took a while to get an answer out of him, one of his usual periodic silences coming over him. Finally, he gave his opinion on the situation the Interlopers were in.]
Depends on your definition of a prison.
[All of them had been brought to Milton against their wills and none had been able to leave, save for the few areas that had slowly been discovered. Rorschach supposed that would fit most people's definition of being a prison.]
no subject
The concept of a "prison" gives the cosmonaut pause, too. He sits there, still breathing raggedly, tongue slick with the feeling and taste of his own blood. He's known so many prisons. So many types. Some may even feel that his little space shuttle was a sort of prison, no matter if he'd chosen to tuck himself inside of it. A small environment from which you can't escape can be such a frightening thing to most people. But for him, the escape was the the cosmos itself. The shuttle was how he got there. He felt.. safe, up there. Free. ]
A place you can't leave. Somewhere you're trapped.
[ But that's vague, he knows. And there's another thought, one that stretches down deep. It's always there with him. Konstantin watches the other carefully as he speaks. ]
A place meant to punish you.
no subject
He paced back and forth in front of the downed cosmonaut slowly, unconsciously nodding at the description as he agreed with it before he spoke again.]
Hm. Yes. Then this is a prison. Bigger than most. But still a prison.
[He paused in front of Konstantin again, staring down at the man. The gaze hidden by his fabric faze this time was intense, reflecting in the way the spots on his face kept coalescing over his eyes with each new shape that was formed.]
Might be in Hell. Not sure yet.
no subject
He slowly lifts his head to stare up at the man who pauses in front of him, watching that strange, surreal sight of the shapes upon his face shifting. A small smile lifts the corners of his mouth, although humourless. ]
The only "Hell" I know exists are the ones made by men.
[ A soft groan of pain as he shifts a bit, slides one long leg out and keeps his arm wrapped around his aching middle. ]
So you're a prisoner of this place, too? Not an interrogator?
no subject
"Maybe this world is another planet's hell."
[He murmured softly to himself. Aldous Huxley had said that and it seemed appropriate for the situation they found themselves in at the moment. It was easy to see he was quoting someone rather than just saying what he thought given it was the first full sentence he'd said without leaving out any words or breaking it up into choppy fragments.
He nodded at the mention of being a prisoner. There was no denying it. He was as trapped here as anyone else in town.]
Yes. But help keep the peace around here regardless.
[No matter what it took. He stopped moving, giving Konstantin a long look that said he considered him someone who might disturb that peace. If that meant having to take the Russian out, then that was just what he'd have to do. Rorschach had never shied away from having to do unpleasant tasks. He hadn't killed anyone since he'd arrived but that didn't mean he wouldn't eventually have to.]
no subject
There's another pause as the man adds that next part. It's... not something he's used to, being treated this way. Even in the facility that kept him prisoner before here, the military scientists and doctors regarded him with a certain respect. Perhaps it was mostly surface-level so as to keep him agreeable, but... he doesn't think all of it was. He's a Hero of the Soviet Union, a commander, a cosmonaut. He's charming, handsome, charismatic; he's everything a Hero should be.
(And yet for all that he'd done for his country, for its people, he'd been.... betrayed. Used. Abandoned.)
He looks back up, searching that featureless visage. This man only sees him with scorn, and doesn't hesitate to remind him of that fact. He smiles again, the expression intentionally friendly, warm (and for him, it always borders something a little flirtatious), even knowing that it will likely do nothing for this man. ]
In that case, it's fortunate that we want the same thing. All I want is peace. Peace, and a nice soft bed. Tell me, are there hotels here...?
no subject
For all that people labeled him a psychopath, Rorschach didn't like killing. The most he could muster up was a sense of satisfaction when he managed to take out someone who had been committing evil acts. But true pleasure at the death of another human being? No, he couldn't relish it, not the same way that someone like the Comedian was capable of.
For at least the immediate future, Konstantin was safe. After all, there wasn't any room for him to hide in this small town. Rorschach would just be keeping a very close eye on the Russian to make sure he didn't try anything sneaky. You couldn't put anything past the Reds.]
No. But plenty of abandoned houses with beds.
[But then something occurred to him which he realized had to be cleared up immediately.]
Not contagious?
[That was the crux of the matter. If Konstantin had brought some weird variation of flu or something with him, Rorschach was determined to kill him right then and there. He'd snap his neck and make an end of him before burning the body to be certain. If it wasn't and just something like internal injuries catching up to him, then he could leave the man be.]
cw: mention of suicide (via gun)
In any case, he'll hold onto that information, but it's the question afterwards that catches Konstantin's attention. His eyes rest on the other's face, or where a face should be. ]
No. It's nothing like that.
[ Of course, that's not a certainty; this creature is still such an unknown. The scientists were only just in the beginning stages of learning about it; it's only been here on Earth for less than a month. He doesn't know what it may ultimately be capable of. But... he does know that it only needs him. His body. Surely there's no danger of it... spreading to someone else. It's bonded to him.
They can't survive without one another, now. ]
I was... shot. Back in my world. Apparently the bullet hole healed somehow, but... my insides aren't so good.
[ None of it is a lie, he just doesn't divulge all the truths, either. Nor the fact that he was the one pushing the barrel of the gun to himself. ]
no subject
He came over towards Konstantin again and knelt down in front of him. His boots and pants were already covered with the man's blood, so if he vomited up a bit more it didn't really matter at this point. Without any regard for personal boundaries or asking permission, he reached out and inspected the man at his leisure as he touched him, searching for any signs Konstantin was telling the truth or lying. The barrier of wearing gloves as he did so helped keep it from feeling too odd of a thing to be doing in Rorschach's mind, as what he was doing had more of a clinical air than anything else.]
cw: parasite horror things / one upset alien worm
He waits with a spike of anxiety, unable to do anything more than that. Will he break a finger? Knock out a tooth? But it's then that the man starts examining him, touching around where the blood stains around the place where a wound should be, and Konstantin gasps out loud, startled. ]
Don't—
[ He can barely move at all, certainly has no strength to pull away from the hands touching him or stop them. But it's alarming, being touched where he knows the creature rests just beneath his skin. And it hurts, his stomach uncomfortably sore and sensitive thanks to his previous injuries and its unwelcomed inhabitant. He doesn't have the medication from the facility to make this experience more tolerable.
He feels the alien shift in response to the man's insistent touch, agitated, nudging fitfully inside of him as though trying to burrow itself deeper into his guts. But it can't, it's contained in the nest of his stomach, pressing against its walls. Konstantin lifts a hand, weakly places it on the man's wrist, eyes swimming with pain. His tolerance for it has been shot (...literally as much as figuratively), and he's not above begging. ]
Please. It hurts.
I stg I thought I replied to this and apparently it was just migraine brainfog...
Still, he didn't stop, intent on going on until he'd satisfied himself. Then he felt Konstantin grab his wrist. It was about as weak as the grasp of a kitten but it did make Rorschach pause. Then he made the mistake of looking into the Russian's eyes.
Rorschach wasn't heartless for all that he'd done a lot of cruel things in his life. Being begged to stop finally got through to him and he relented, silently pulling his hand away from Konstantin's body.]
no subject
In the moment, however, the cosmonaut resorts back to something that exists underneath the layers of everything else. Something human and pleading and desperate — something that would beg. He's too exhausted, too run-down, to do anything else. He has nothing left to give.
The man's hand is pulling back.
Konstantin's almost too shocked to process it, even when the source of pain comes to a halt. Wide-eyed, he stares up at Rorschach for a long moment, panting against the lingering agony of the creature still so fretful inside of him. At least it's stopped trying to get away from the insistent nudge of the other man's fingers, but it's still agitated, squirming around, and Konstantin coughs, loud and abrasive, leaning forward as the act racks his frame. He groans loudly in pain, slumping back against the wall, weakly placing one hand against his abdomen, gentle. Please stop, please calm down. ]
....Thank you, [ he gasps, weakly, mouth slick with the blood that still stains it. The last thing he wants to do is thank this person, but that same desperate part of him hopes maybe it will appease this stranger, this recognition of mercy. ]
no subject
Rather like in a wolf pack where a submissive one would show its belly to a more dominant aggressor to appease them, Konstantin's words did a lot to help keep Rorschach from wanting to behave more aggressively towards him than he might otherwise have felt inclined to. It was clear Konstantin knew who was in charge here and the part of Rorschach that sought to be on top in all situations appreciated that bit of tact being shown.
He finally stood back up and scooted away from the injured man. He spared a glance down at his poor deerskin boots and the bottoms of his pants, both still coated with the cosmonaut's blood. He was going to have to scrub long and hard to get that out. Sigh.]
Be watching you.
[He growled out as a final warning. He would be keeping a wary eye on Konstantin for any signs of trouble. And if he did? He'd finish what he started here if the harsh landscape in Milton failed to do so.]