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singillppl2024-04-06 07:44 pm
singmod) wrote in singillppl2024-04-06 07:44 pm
Entry tags:
April 2024 Test Drive Meme
APRIL 2024 TDM
PROMPT ONE — ARRIVAL: METHUSELAH'S FEAST: Yet another 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 — FROM FROTH-CORRUPTED LUNGS: The heavy fog plaguing the Northern Territories takes a far more deadly and sinister turn.
PROMPT THREE — SHARP CLAWS, YAWNING MAWS: Interlopers come face to face with another native animal to the Northern Territories stalking the rockier areas — and unfortunately, these feline beasts have also been warped by the Aurora.
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.
You awaken. You are not where you were before. It’s different for everyone, there doesn’t seem to be much of a pattern in where you find yourself. You may open your eyes to find yourself in a cold, dim and dank cabin. The air is stale, dust hangs in the rays of weak sunlight that shine through the tiny windows. Someone lived here once, but they aren’t to be found. You look around, it seems like no one has been here in several weeks, maybe longer. The fire is stone cold, the dishes in the sink are mouldy — it's possible the place has been ransacked, as if they've gone through the drawers and cupboards looking for something. 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. Interlopers who arrive during the month of April will find themselves waking up in a world filled with freezing cold fog, cold enough that it will feel as if your skin is burning. A kind of cold that will not shake easily. It will be easy to get lost in the fog. Best hope there's someone out here that might come across you to help you find your way.
Soon enough, you'll be able to find a path to town. A little more worse for wear, but alive. It’s here you may find someone else in the same boat as yourself, equally freezing and confused — battered from the journey. 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 smell it through the fog: the scent of smoke that seems to cling in the still air. Fire. Not just one, but several perhaps. Civilization...?
Follow it, and soon enough the way you’ve taken will certainly become a path or road. Unfolding before you in the foggy mountainous forests, you’ll see the most welcome of sights, even if it may appear a little eerie in the half-light gloom: 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. Some of them will direct you to the Community Hall, tell you to head there — you've been expected.
Towards the center of town, you’ll find the building where many people seem to gather: a community hall, by the looks of it. 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. Everyone looks as though they could faint from the cold at any second, damp and shivering.
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, but looks sad. He smiles warmly despite the sadness in him, and with pity, ushering you in with haste.
“Another batch of poor souls from the wilds, this fog has made it so difficult.” he nods gravely. No, this is not the first time that this has happened. “I am Methuselah. I welcome you Newcomer, although I’m sorry for how you’ve come to find yourself here. The lights are changing things, bringing more of you here. Come, we must get you warm and fed. Mother Nature has not been kind.”
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 and perhaps a rare canister of coffee, along with soup and stew and trays of charred deer and rabbit meats, plus some grilled fish, instant mashed potatoes, and tinned vegetables. It’s very basic, but it’s hot and filling. A feast. The old man has been busy. And Methuselah will continue to busy himself, still; there is plenty to do. He will fetch blankets, tend to wounds, serve food and drinks. He does not have much time to talk. More and more people seem to be coming in from the cold. He will not stop to sit and rest until everyone is seen to, taking up a place by the fire to gaze silently into its flames. He is very troubled, thoughtful. Much has been happening. The others from town will eventually trail in too, to eat and warm themselves, and search among the new faces.
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, his mood is... low, mournful. But perhaps you might be able to get some answers from those fellow arrivals who’ve been in this place for some time now.
FROM FROTH-CORRUPTED LUNGS
WHEN: The month of April.
WHERE: Everywhere.
CONTENT WARNINGS: supernatural/extreme weather; poisonous fog; potential respiratory/lung-related illness/injury; potential burn injuries; themes of peril
A thick fog has descended onto the Northern Territories as April comes, often difficult to navigate in and a kind of cloying damp that often brings a certain kind of wicked chill to Interlopers out travelling in it. The kind that sinks in one’s bones and takes too long to be chased away with heat and dry clothes. Sometimes, it feels almost suffocating, like it’s exhausting to be out in it — as if one might feel more like they’re underwater than on dry land, struggling to breathe if they’re out in it for too long.
It’s certainly a miserable affair for those in this world, the cold was bad enough without this.
And certainly, it can get even worse.
Maybe it’s a trick of the light, the strange thickness of the fog in the pale Spring light, but you notice in certain patches there’s… an almost green tint to the fog. You don’t have time to look at it for long. It descends upon you with a fluid steadiness, silent in its approach.
To touch the fog with bare skin, a hand, even the exposed face — you will be met with a sudden burning pain, far different to the biting cold pain of the rest of the fog. As soon as the green fog comes into contact with you, it slowly begins to burn at you — searing away at any flesh, a slow and terrible experience.
To breathe it in will be an even worse experience: it will feel as if one is slowly inhaling tiny fragments of glass, and each breath will be painful and suffocating. Coughing up blood is likely, and being out in it for too long will bring a slow, agonising death of suffocation.
Heading indoors is the best bet to ensure survival, with plugging up any doors and windows or drafty spaces to ensure the fog doesn’t seep inside. After that, it seems like the only thing you can do is wait it out. Hopefully you're stuck inside with a friendly face, and somewhere with a fire. Otherwise, it's going to be a bad time trapped inside waiting it out. The fog will eventually dissipate, and all that Interlopers will be able to see is the usual cold fog — but that could take hours of waiting.
Burns to the skin can be treated with typical medical care, and bathing the wounds will cleanse them of any lingering poison, but Interlopers should take care of signs of infection in the days afterwards. For those who suffer from inhalation of this green fog, Methuselah will direct them to Reishi mushrooms — known for their antibiotic healing properties and can be found in abundance in the world. Interlopers will find that breathing in the steam from boiling and steeping these mushrooms in water will soothe their lungs and help in the healing process.
SHARP CLAWS, YAWNING MAWS
WHEN: April, onwards.
WHERE: Milton wilds; Milton Mines (Lakeside Entrance) area; The Ravine area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: animal attacks, altered wildlife, gore, possible character injury/death, possible animal injury/death.
Certain kinds of wildcats are native to Canada and thus the Northern Territories. They are elusive animals, often keeping to themselves and have largely gone unseen by the Interlopers during their time here in this world. But the world is changing, and it has long been understood that wildlife has been altered due to the Aurora’s influence — particularly with wolves. Unfortunately, these solitary and evasive felines will not remain this way for long.
The wildcats tend to stick to the more mountainous areas of the Northern Territories: Milton’s outskirts being a primary example of this, but also the sheltered and rocky passage Interlopers must take if they are to travel through the mines and down the train tracks that lead into Lakeside. It is here in particular that they make their appearance with the recent footfall between the areas.
For newer Interlopers, it is a frightening sight. For some Interlopers who have been in this world for some time, it is an all too familiar sight to behold but no less terrifying. These beasts are warped by the Aurora and are far bigger and faster than any usual wildcat, with huge, hulking bodies, elongated fangs and unlike wolves: they can climb. Green, glowing smoke curls from their bodies and eyes, a kind of electrical current rippling over their coats with a strange shimmer. They lurk from above and wait for the opportune moment to strike — a far more silent and deadly attack than the wolf packs of last year. But if you’re paying attention, you might be able to spot them before they make their move.
These altered beasts will come no more than three at a time, but will usually attack alone. They will work with a frenzied determination to bring you down and make you their next meal. Cats, after all, are obligate carnivores. They will enjoy giving chase, and running will be the worst thing to do in dealing with them. It is best to stand your ground and try to fight back this way.
They are frightened of flames, and loud noises from gunfire or flares will keep them at a distance — but it’ll take a decent amount of ammunition to take them down, much like their canine counterparts Interlopers already encountered. Taking one down will be no small feat, but there will likely be the reward of a thick, warm pelt for those interested.
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. Skin open to the elements is at the most risk of being burned, so it's best to wrap up/cover any bare skin. Covered skin would eventually burn if Interlopers spent enough time in the fog to have their clothes saturated by the damp.
2. Breathing in the fog is the most pressing issue for everyone as a whole. The green fog can affect Interlopers who don't breathe.
1. Bobcat, Canada Lynx, and Cougar are the three kinds of wildcat native to Canada. Due to the Aurora's influence, these wildcats are bigger, faster and stronger than typical wildcats — with Cougars being the largest of the three.
2. Killing them is difficult, but not impossible. Scaring them will be far easier to accomplish than killing them.
3. Wildcat activity will continue onwards from April, but will reduce with the Interlopers' efforts to fight them back.
4. Wildcat is technically edible. But not advised due to parasites. Characters are still welcome to harvest the wildcats they kill, however.
Steve Harrington | Stranger Things
Steve wakes freezing.
It's not unusual, to be honest. He's racked up his fair share of nightmares at this point in his life, and sure, one might expect him to wake up sweating, gasping for air - the gasping for air part is true, but most nights, he wakes up cold. It's always cold, no matter the setting: the Byers house, dropping ten degrees as the wall opens to the maw of a monster; the tunnels, shielding Dustin as the dogs charge at them; the basement of the mall, miles of cold, steel tunnels with no way out.
And then, of course, there's the Upside Down.
He remembers it like an itch under his skin, something he can't wash out no matter how many times he scrubs. Cold, numbingly so. Dead. The air was dead, you could feel it, and the creatures there soulless. He'd coughed up black grime for a week after the gates had cracked open fissures to the other side, hoping that there weren't any spores or some shit in his lungs.
But, back to the point at hand. Steve wakes up freezing, and he stays freezing. He's not in the Upside Down, despite the wild, wheeling terror that grips him for a moment before the vestiges of sleep clear from his groggy mind - no, he's somewhere else entirely. Not his bed, not Hawkins, hell, maybe not even Indiana because the bitingly cold air feels like it must be further north. Wisconsin, maybe? How the hell did he end up there?
Steve takes quick stock of his surroundings - he didn't feel concussed, which had to be a good sign, right? - but he's otherwise alone in snowy woods on the cold, damp ground. The snow is starting to soak through his jeans, so he stands, patting down his pockets - not much a pack of Lucky Strikes, a lighter, his car keys, and his wallet were going to do for him. The car keys, at least, have a small pocket knife dangling from them (mostly so Steve can slice open mail). His real survival kit is stashed in the false bottom of the trunk of his Beemer, but his car is nowhere in sight.
At least he's wearing a jacket - well, it's no winter coat, but the bomber is better than nothing - which he draws up tight, unearthing a handkerchief from the inside pocket (sidenote: he should have washed it, but tying that around his neck to stop the chill from gnawing at him there is again, better than nothing). There's nothing to indicate which direction he should head, as Steve turns a slow circle - North, East, South, West - before he sighs and starts trudging through the brush, ice crunching under his sneakers.
down for whatever, dealer's choice!
hello! sorry it took me a hot minute to get to this
Eddie is a man on a mission. He hasn’t always been the only one here from home, but now that Max has disappeared, and in this bitter fog—he couldn’t forgive himself if he didn’t go looking for her. People disappear all the time, but no one seems to question it half as much as Eddie does. Where do they go when they leave neither hide or hair behind? The familiar feeling that he could have done something to prevent it is already settling in, a nasty curl in his stomach that nothing really relieves. His only real comfort is that the Darkwalker hasn’t claimed another victim, at least as far as any of them can tell so far. So he wraps himself up—a coat two sizes too big, borrowed gloves, a scarf that’s seen better days looped over his nose and mouth—and sets out on his search, never straying too far from the path. He’ll never find it again otherwise.
Eventually, he hears the sound of the footsteps in the snow, and he pauses. Whirls around, squints, just barely manages to make out another figure, poorly dressed for the weather—clearly someone new, or someone lost.
“Hey,” he calls. “When I say you’re gonna freeze your ass off out here, I mean it literal—“ He pauses as the figure comes into view. He’d know that hair anywhere.
“Harrington?”
His eyes widen in a mixture of disbelief and hesitation, like he’s holding back, waiting for something to prove him wrong. He waits one moment, then two, and with a bark of laughter that almost sounds like relief, pulls the scarf down beneath his chin. While the face face beneath is thinner and gaunter than it ever was back home, the grin is still wide and lopsided.
“Jesus Christ, dude,” he breathes out. “Are you insane? You need to get the hell out of this fog.”
He doesn’t explain, doesn’t stop make sure Steve actually remembers him this time, doesn’t even explain that he’s been looking for him as well for the last four months. He merely grabs the other man by the arm and begins to pull him back in the direction he came.
“You in one piece?”
hello! no problem!
But they know him.
The air leaves Steve's lungs in a surprised exhale as his legs carry him forward, crossing the distance, wondering who it could be - not Nancy, too tall, or Robin, who would have tripped over her own feet by now on the uneven, icy ground. The eyes of the person are visible to him now, but that still isn't providing any clarity because -
No. That can't be right. Can it? No.
"Munson?" Steve is properly gobsmacked when Eddie pulls down his scarf, unable to believe what he's seeing. He brain skips like a record, feet stumbling a little as Eddie grabs him and starts doubling back, presumably to somewhere a little less cold. "What - how are you - what?"
Is Steve dead? Did Eddie really die? Nothing has felt real since Vecna, nothing except his nightmares, and he can't trust any of it anymore. He'd never been caught in one of Vecna's hallucinations - except how would he know, anyway? What if he is, and this is another trick, and they never actually made it out of the Upside Down - maybe he's still stuck to that wall, dying, dying, dead.
First things first, however, because even if this is a hallucination, Steve can't exactly ignore a warning: "What fog? What are you talking about?"
The answer comes just in time for Steve to wish he hadn't asked the question.
The green tint is so subtle in the air, Steve's free hand swipe through it without warning, the burning on his skin so acute and immediate that he wonders if he cut it on something. No dice - he hisses, bumping shoulders with Eddie as he edges away from the encroaching fog - which shows no sign of stopping. "Fuck! Fucking - ow - what the hell - "
They need to get out of there, and fast.
no subject
“Yeah. That fog. Come on. There’s a ranger’s cabin up here somewhere. Not much, but it'll do the job.”
His grip on Steve’s arm is tight, and he doesn’t let go. It’s a desperate, anxious sort of grip, like he’s convinced himself that if he loosens up for even a moment, another person just might slip through his fingers. His footsteps are quick, but not particularly graceful. He doesn’t really move like a spry young man anymore. His movements stiff with the never-ending cold and old injuries that didn’t get the doctoring they really needed out here. But he’s undoubtedly alive, even if he does feel like he never managed to pull one foot out of the grave.
As promised, a tiny cabin stands nestled in the trees, just off the path. It’s small, clearly not want for an extended stay, and the wood used to build it is shabby and deteriorating, but it has a roof and all four walls are standing and anything is better than letting this weird, otherworldly fog eat away at them. Eddie pulls Steve inside, slams the door shut, and finally, finally lets go of his arm. He leans against the door, huffs out a breath, loosens his scarf again, and offers up a wry smile.
“Hey, Steve. Fancy meeting you here. Again.”
no subject
Even so, Steve remains alert; he's been in too many of these goddamn situations not to have a programmed response. Eddie is - he seems a little worse for wear, insofar as Steve can tell, but he also has some idea of where to go, even though the landscape all looks like one snowy, freezing Hell to him.
They veer away from the toxic fog, though it does seem to be closing in on them. The ranger's cabin looks rough, but not worse than some of the structures in the upside down. No vines to avoid, at least. The temperature barely changes as they enter it, door shut firmly behind them, but at least the only wind that reaches them is the eerie whistle coming from the broken board in the corner of the roofing.
Eddie releases him, but Steve eyes him for a second, unsure. He's smiling, so full of life and - and he didn't make it. He didn't make it out, when they'd met back up with Dustin. Steve had wanted to go back, to try pulling out the body, at least, but Nancy wouldn't let him.
"Show me your hand." Steve takes an aborted step forward, hesitation written all over his face. How can this be real? There's a part of him, despite the insane circumstances - that wants it to be real. "Eddie I - I need to see your hand."
Closest thing he has to a plan. Didn't he hear somewhere that you have extra fingers in dreams?
no subject
But he’s gotten Steve out of it--he’s found Steve after months of being eaten alive by not knowing where he’d disappeared to or whether he was alive or dead. He opens his mouth to make a sarcastic comment about the weather—Show me your hand. Eddie looks more than a little taken aback by the request. His eyebrows knit together and he shoots Steve a look that’s almost comedically puzzled.
“Uh…yeah. Sure. Why not?”
With one more quick, baffled glance, he pulls off his gloves and presents both of his bare hands, palms up for Steve to see. Ten fingers, cheap nickel rings still adorning each one like absolutely nothing has changed and no time has passed. He shifts his gaze to Steve’s face and studies it carefully, like he’s trying to work out what he’s thinking.
“You okay…?,” he tries cautiously. “Last time I saw you, uh…you didn’t really remember me. Like our timelines were out of sync or something. Real Back to the Future shit. I’m guessing if you’re acting this confused, you probably don’t remember that.”
Between that whole fiasco and Max simply having no idea about what went down in the Upside Down, no one has actually managed to inform Eddie that he’s supposed to be dead. Typical; he’s always the last to know these things, but he’s guessing there’s something weird going on, and Steve needs to be informed once more about a few things.
“This is Canada, by the way—probably? No one actually knows for sure, but it’s always cold as shit and I’ve been here for eight months. I don’t know how I got here, I don’t know what year it is, and I don’t know what season we’re in. The acid fog isn’t typical, but, uh…there’s a town up the road if it ever rolls out again.”
no subject
She hears the crunch of snow and ice at one point while she's beyond the border of the town, and she moves to check out who or what was causing it. Which is when she'll come across Steve. She blinks in surprise. She hadn't really expected to find someone new here.
"Hey- Uh- You might want to come along with me before you wind up getting hurt." She called out, a little muffled from behind how bundled up she was. There's a pause and then she adds in.
"That wasn't a threat! I mean it's dangerous out here and I'm trying to help."
no subject
"Do you know where we are?" Steve calls back to the person - it's unclear to him if it's a man or a woman by the distance, but he starts picking his way across the snow towards them. They're shorter than him, which becomes evident as he moves closer - more than a head shorter than him, so he's betting they're a girl?
no subject
"Yeah. Kind of a long story but I got stuck here a few months ago. There are more people like us out and about too." She'll move to close the distance and then offer a gloved hand up.
"Here. Let's try and keep you up on two feet. I'll take you to town."
no subject
"I'm uh - Steve." He shivers, but the cold pierces through him - it really was fucking freezing. Where were they, Alaska? He's never been, but he assumes it's like this.
no subject
"Yeah. Unfortunately it's true for both of those. I'd like to say we're working on a way out of here, but we haven't had much luck yet." It was hard given the conditions they were working with.
"Ruby. Nice to meet you Steve." And she eyes him briefly from beneath her goggles as he shivers. She let's out a little breath and moves to take off her cloak and hand it to him. It's a little small but it'll at least help for now. She still had a jacket to keep herself warm for now.
no subject
Bigby doesn't really need much to be able to tell that, especially when he's been in this place for so long now. It feels so easy at this point to tell who's new - especially when most of the time it's just the people who look horribly underdressed for the kind of weather they've found themselves in, especially if they're still out in the snow rather than in town.
"Hey!" The man therefore calls out in Steve's direction, raising his voice. Bigby definitely looks like he belongs here much more, moving through the snow in boots and wearing a thick winter coat.
"You'll freeze if you keep heading in that direction, y'know!"
Because Bigby knows the town definitely is not that way.