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dailyadventureprompts · 1 year

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Adventure: A Tumult in Towerford

The baron repeatedly asked the populace to bear with him through this difficult time. The malcontents took him up on the offer.

Whether through natural good fortune or some long forgotten work of magic, the lands around town of Towerford and the ancient elven spire at its center are famed far and wide for their bountiful game. In recent years, the town’s ruler, Baron Lozin Blotzco has attempted to reserve these lands for the exclusive use of the nobility, hoping to turn the bounty of his holdings into political influence. This has caused a clash with a section of the populace who’ve made their living hunting, trapping, and foraging within the woods for generations. These supposed “Poachers” have suffered increasingly steep fines, punishments, and even imprisonment as the Baron’s grip has tightened, creating a bone deep resentment that threatens to boil over just as the party stroll into town.

Adventure Hooks:

In hopes of turning the wilderness into a place where nobles can course as they please the baron has posted several hefty bounties for various monsters throughout the region which has attracted the party and several other slayer bands. While some of these are quite run of the mill, others involve driving off otherwise peaceful inhuman denizens or culling predators in a way that any sensible hunter would know poses a risk to the environment. The party are likely to get heckled by the locals should they take one of these contracts, letting them know there’s more going on here than a simple payout.

Sometime after returning to town the party is caught in the public square as a hanging is about to commence. The old huntress Yilri Splitbough was one of the first accused of poaching, and ever since has been in and out of the baron’s cells as she flouts his laws on principle alone. Many consider her to be the unofficial leader of the malcontents, and the baron has decided to make an example out of her in the hopes of putting an end to all this rabblerousing. A last minute rescue attempt is made by the forest folk, but is obstructed by the baron’s guards, meaning the old huntress will likely die if the party does not intercede. If they do, it’s very likely that they’ll end up outlaws, but perhaps that’s worth it to do the right thing.

Early in the adventure the party will make the acquaintance of Countess Etoria of Ashfield, one of the many nobles Blotzco was hoping to win favour with and the first to accept his invitation. Charming, capable, and vivacious the countess and her hunting party might help the party out of a particularly nasty encounter in the wilderness, then treat them to drinks back in town to hear about their perspective on what’s going on. She’s a good friend to have, and a potential patron for future adventures.

Background: Constructed by a long faded elven court, the great spire which stands at the centre of Towerford is but the last of a series of constructions made to guard the river approach to the sylvan realm. While the rest of the spires have crumbled over time or become havens for unfriendly things, the towerford construction has lasted into the modern day primarily because of the non-elven population that took over the upkeep after the original owners moved on to unseen lands.

Located at the join of two rivers, the town is a minor trading hub for the region, specalizing in lumber and furs from the forest as well as leather goods and stone quarried from the nearby bluffs. While not as exciting as jewels or spices, these staples ensure a healthy stream of merchants in and out of Towerford all year round, making it a good place for adventurers to seek out while looking to pick up work or listen for some rumours.

Further Adventures:

Things escalate a week or so after the execution when the poachers ( with the help of a dryad who recognizes the risk to her forest) manage to sneak a direbear into his quarters several dozen stories up the spire. Knowing from allies within the towns craftspeople that the Baron is refurbishing his quarters in preparation for entertaining guests of a higher station, the poachers use a little fey trickery to polymorph the bear into an exact replica of a fancy chair and let the Baron’s own servants walk it past the guards. The party may hear about this account after the fact and be called upon to do something about the unbearable beast rampaging through the upper halls of the spire, though for added laughs consider the fun of having an outlaw party captured and dragged before the baron to awnser for their crimes, only to be suddenly faced with the dilemma of whether or not to rescue their enemy from a savage mauling or leave him behind as a distraction.

After the Baron’s unexpected mauling Etoria will step up to take charge all smiles and understanding... atleast until her troops march on and occupy the town. The countess really has no issue with the poachers and sees reason in their plight, but their murder of one of the nobility provides the perfect excuse for her to lay claim to the area under the guise of putting down “rebels”. Once her men have found a few scapegoats and mounted their heads on pikes

Unrelated to everything going on down below, it’s said that a group of elven mystics dwell at the top of the tower, having chosen to stay behind while their kinsfolk left, guarding some secret or contemplating some hidden truth. Seeking the advice of these sages could provide an excuse for why the party needed to visit Towerford in the first place.

#Forest #river #low level #settlement #outlaw #bandits #druid #fey #Assassin #monster hunt #patron #noble #politics #jailbreak #Dungeons and Dragons #d&d

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lulu2992 · 4 months

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Uncovering the unreleased Far Cry 5 in-game Encyclopedia

Aside from the places that still exist in the game, I also found a few that don’t!

Part 5: Cut locations

In the files, each location on the map has a code. Thanks to location-specific Gun For Hire comments (found in a document that DanaDuchy shared here) and other information available in oasisstrings, I tried to find which code corresponded to which location. That took me some time because I had to take my companions to several places to see which comments would be triggered, find those comments in the files, and look at the associated location code. Sometimes, I even had to go find and hire new fighters who had the “right voice” if I knew they had something to say about a place I wanted to identify! When I was done matching all in-game locations with codes, I realized there were more.

The code looks different depending on how important the place is. For example, Fall’s End is D2_HERO_01, the Baron Lumber Mill is H5_MEGA_01, and the 8-Bit Pizza Bar is E5_POI_08 (I suppose “POI” means “Point Of Interest”). That helped me find which code was which location, but in the case of deleted content, also gives information on how big the place was supposed to be before it got cut.

Using NPC comments, as well as deleted notes and other information available in oasisstrings, here are the cut Far Cry 5 locations I could find and their description in the unreleased encyclopedia (or at least what I can hypothesize about those places).

You can read the oasisstrings file here. Pictures from this encyclopedia were also extracted and posted by @xbaebsae here.

(Below, for clarity, “RF” means “Resistance Female” and “RM” is for “Resistance Male”, which are the characters’ names in the files)

Fumaroles (F5_POI_03)

A hole in the planet's crust that belches steam and gases. According to Montana Parks and Recreation officials, fumaroles are not portals to hell.

Here, Guns For Hire would say:

RF1: "Took a field trip here once. Don't remember anything about this."

RM1: "Damn, look what they've done to this place."

Hurk: "Daddy calls this the Devil's Asshole because it smells so bad."

Old Lakeside Camp (E6_POI_05)

Probably some good memories were made here under the stars.

Pilgrimage Footbridge (E7_POI_01)

Located on high cliffs and above water, it's a part of Faith's pilgrimage. Not for the faint of heart.

Here, Guns For Hire would say:

RF2: "Wonder how many folks they've already forced to march over this bridge. Makes me sick."

RM2: "Please let's not cross that footbridge."

High Cave (F7_POI_01)

A cave that is high

Here, Guns For Hire would say:

Jess: "Check out that cave. I used to smoke tons of weed in there when I was a kid."

Western Radio Tower (code unknown)

A large aerial tower used to transmit and boost radio signals.

Abandoned Motel (D6_POI_01)

(no description found)

There was a note called “Abandoned Motel note”. Its content is unknown.

Shooting Range (F5_POI_06)

(no description found)

There was a note called “Shooting Range note” that said, “Grace Armstrong should own this.”

Here, Guns For Hire would say:

Hurk: “Whoo-ya, let's fire off some rounds!”

MX Trail Head (D4_POI_06)

(no description found)

There was a note called “MX Trail Head note”. Its content is unknown.

Boulder field (E7_POI_02)

(no description found)

There was a note called “Boulder field note”. Its content is unknown.

Bob’s Gun Shop (G5_POI_07)

This one is interesting because it looks like it wasn’t completely cut but rather turned into another location with a new code: the Can of Worms Fishing Store (G4_POI_01). Look at the picture associated with the location (see link at the beginning of the post), compared to a screenshot I took of the Can of Worms Fishing Store:

Here, Guns For Hire would say:

RF3: "Never fished outta here, myself."

(Unnamed location) (E4_HERO_01)

(no description found)

I didn’t find the name of this place, but it’s the one I’m the most curious about. The code says it’s a “HERO” type of location, which suggests it was probably important since, in this category, we also find Joseph’s Island (as a whole), Dutch’s Island (as a whole), John’s Gate, Seed Ranch, Fall’s End, the McKinley Dam, St. Francis Veteran’s Center, the Wolf’s Den, and Sacred Skies Youth Camp.

Here, Guns For Hire would say:

Nick: "I think my mic's on. ...The button's stuck... C'mon."

Sharky: "Did you know doctors used to finger blast women here when they were hysterical? I wish I was a doctor."

Grace: "I don't know much about this place. It's new to me."

Jess: "Fuckin' loonie bin. Always gave me the creeps."

Adelaide: "Can you think of anything scarier than places like this? Gives me the willies."

Hurk: "This is where I come to score chicks, man."

These comments, especially what Sharky, Jess, Adelaide, and even Hurk say, make me think it could be a psychiatric facility, possibly for women only. I really wish I knew more about this!

(Unnamed location) (J3_POI_01)

(no description found)

Here, Guns For Hire would say:

Nick: "Ugh. I hate seeing crashed planes. They look so much better in the sky."

This one could have something to do with the “Mayday” Prepper Stash, but I took Nick to that location and could never trigger his comment...

And that’s pretty much all the interesting things I found!

There were a few more “orphaned” codes that simply appeared in oasisstrings but for which I didn’t find any information. There was also this description:

The Forbeth family has loved the Father's message since day one. These people were told to prepare for the Collapse and abandoned their home.

Since the Rotten Mill (Joseph’s Island) apparently didn’t have a description yet, it could be for this place, but it could also be for another, deleted location.

Finally, it seems the Elk Jaw Lodge used to be called the “Bear Jaw Lodge”, and maybe there was a place called “Killburn Farm”, but maybe it was also one of the current in-game locations’ former name.

#the most interesting part for me!#what were you 'E4_HERO_01'?#'I wish I was a doctor' sharky NO #far cry 5 #hope county #nick rye #grace armstrong #hurk drubman jr #jess black #sharky boshaw #adelaide drubman #joseph seed

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cafffine · 1 year

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the current relationship between Canada’s west coast region and the American South is pretty insane from a forestry perspective. Like I wish I could explain how serious and scary it is that Canada’s biggest and most destructive wood products companies (Canfor, Interfor, West Fraser ect) are leaving British Columbia and moving to the American South where they’re going to link up with US lumber barons for the foreseeable future but I don’t quite have the language yet. They’re leaving because they’re running from climate change. BC forests have genuinely reached a point where capitalism has decided to flee.

The lives of Native people, environmentalists, citizens and forest laborers, wildlife, agriculture companies of the South, it’s all going to change, and we can’t even truly look to Canada as a case study because most land in BC is Crown owned, versus the domination of private land ownership in the South. I literally don’t even know how to talk about this yet, but please think of the South’s forestland when discussions of climate change and capitalism come up again because that is absolutely going to be a battleground. And that’s not even mentioning the forests that are being abandoned in BC.

#I wrote a whole long ass paper on this but my conclusion was like :: uhhhhhh oh no #forestry #environmentalism #double shot

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solarishashernoseinabook · 2 months

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Yo Solaris (can I call you that? Have we reached that point in our mutualship?)

I really really want to know about 'The Log Driver's Waltz' this feels like something I'd get unnecessarily invested in.

Also, dad Halt is always good, but yk, the log waltz got my attention.

If you have the times and the energies, please, tell me more

Lmao yes people can call me Solaris, my username is ridiculously long so I don't mind people shortening it

And you're not the only one who really likes the sound of that oneshot, which is probably a sign I should work on it more!

It's based on a Canadian folk song called The Log Driver's Waltz, a personal favourite of mine even if its sung in too high a key for me to even hope to reach. It follows Will, the adopted son of Baron Arald, having a whirlwind romance with a charming log driver named Horace as he stays for a few days in Wensley village before moving on to take lumber downriver.

Maybe when this chapter is finished, I'll dedicate time to getting TLDW finished :3

#asks #rangers apprentice #my writing

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friend-crow · 1 year

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Bullying is bad, actually.

You make a good point, and I will address that momentarily, but first some background:

Our mayor is from a lumber baron family and spent over a year teargassing people protesting police brutality every night, because he is also the police commissioner (a position which he has refused to give up).

So yes, bullying is bad, and the mayor deserves to have bad things happen to him. It makes me feel good when people say things to him that are accurate and hurtful.

#ask #anon #bullying

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voices-of-hope-county · 11 months

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Eli's radio calls after the liberation of the Baron Lumber Mill, the F.A.N.G. Center, the Elk Jaw Lodge, the Whitetail Park Ranger Station, and the PIN-K0 Radar Station.

- Requested by Anonymous.

#Requested #Compilation #Eli Palmer

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hometoursandotherstuff · 2 years

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Mansion in Bangor, Maine actually is a bargain at $699K. It was built in 1898 for a lumber baron and is believed to be the only home by architect Wilfred Mansur that combines the styles of Old English, Gothic, Queen Ann, and Shingle.

It’s an attractive home, especially the painted trim colors.

Open the door to a small foyer with the main hall ahead.

The wood is amazing.

Such a grand stairway reminds me of a gothic church. Remember, the design incorporates several different styles.

Very formal looking keeping room.

Lovely large, warm, sitting room.

The dining room has a wonderful large fireplace, but I would have to do something to bring it out- it seems to fade into the wall, being the same color.

Every time they paint carved wood, like they did on this fireplace, the details get more obscured and not as sharp. I would strip it.

Original pantry.

And, a nice kitchen restoration. Too much pale gray in this house, though.

More storage in the back porch.

Guest powder room.

The knights on the stained glass windows make it look castle-like.

Wonder why it so has many long narrow rooms. Although, this does make a cozy library.

The main bed and bath have a Tudor feel.

Family room on the 2nd level.

There’s a total of 8 bds.

And, 4 full bths. Why did they paint everything?

This could be one of the bds. being used as an office.

Uppermost level has 2 more bds. and a billiard room.

Plus another large room, a nursery, and a full bth.

The carriage house is currently being used as a medical office, so it’s already been adapted and would take some work to turn into a home. Why do they do this, when they can just rent an office?

https://www.mynexthomeexperience.com/property/211-1536232-436%20State%20Street-ME-04401?

#historic home maine #architecture #old house dreams #long post

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 3 years

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“COMPANY ISSUES WRIT AGAINST TIMBER JUDGES,” Toronto Star. February 14, 1921. Page 1. ---- Spanish River Pulp and Paper Mills, Ltd., Launches Action. ---- PROBE IS ADJOURNED ---- Commissioners Say It Would Be Improper to Proceed Pending Decision ---- A writ was issued at Osgoode Hall to-day by Percy B. Wilson, C. H. Jones, George R. Gray, J. U. Gibson and the Spanish River Pulp and Paper Mills, Ltd. against Hon. Wiliam Renwick Riddell and Hon. Francis Robert Latchford, the commissioners conducting the timber investigation.

The plaintiffs claim is follows:

A declaration that defendants are professing to act as commissioners under Revised Statutes of Ontario, chapter 18, without lawful authority.

A declaration that the defendants are endeavoring to investigate matters relating to the business and of the plaintiffs without Jurisdiction.

A declaration that the subpoenas duces tecum or summons issued by the defendants to the plaintiffs dated 5th February, 1921 are beyond the jurisdiction of the defendants to issue, and are improper and should be set aside.

A declaration that it is beyond the jurisdiction of the defendants and irrelevant to the purpose of the commission to require the individual plaintiffs to attend as witnesses and produce the papers and documents set out, in said subpoenas or summonses.

And for an injunction and such other relief as the plaintiffs are entitled to.

Place of trial, Toronto.

The writ was issued by Col. Thomas Gibson, solicitor to the plaintiffs/

Shirley Denison, K.C.. solicitor for defendants, has entered an appearance. Mr. C. Hile in reference to the writ said:

The company refuses to produce anything (not having passed between the government and the company) in connection with the company's business with the government, and generally "any books, papers or documents in any way relating to the application of September 19, 1919, or to the loan of $5,000,000, or $2,500,000 from Peabody, Houghteling and Co." Probe Stands Adjourned. In consequence of the action taken by the Spanish River Pulp and Paper Co. to obtain an injunction against the Riddell-Latchford timber commission, the commissioners have declined to proceed further with any matters in connection with the timber investigation, pending the decision of the courts

At 2:10 to-day, when the probe should have resumed, Judge Riddell made the following statement:

"The statement has been made by counsel or someone in connection with the Spanish River Pulp and Paper Co. whose proceedings we were going on to investigate, that a writ has been placed for an injunction to prevent us from proceeding with the investigation. The injunction so far has failed. We think it would be improper for us to proceed with any part of the investigation so long as there can be any or the slightest doubt of our authority to proceed. "We shall be relieved of an exceedingly onerous and disagreeable duty, but we accepted it only as a public duty which we did not originate or desire in any way, and we think the wisest course, the most seemly course for us is to decline to go on with any part of the investigation of any kind until such time as we have an authoritative statement by a court of our powers - how far they extend and the proper course for us to pursue. It is for the people of the province of Ontario ultimately to say what shall and shall not be investigated.

May Appoint Other Commissions. "If the commission which we have does not sufficiently cover the investigation which we intended to make, then other commissions perhaps may be issued to some others and more efficient persons, or further legislation may be made if it is so desired, but as things stand now we decline to proceed with any part of the commission until such time as the matter is thoroughly investigated and threshed out in a court of Justice. We therefore rise sine die.

Justice Latchford: "This statement is made with my entire concurrence."

Justice Riddell: "I ought to say Mr. Scott has acted with perfect professional propriety."

#osgoode hall #government investigation #pulp and paper industry #spanish river #timber industry #government corruption #capitalism in canada #timber barons #lumber industry #northern ontario

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docgold13 · 7 months

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Profiles in Villainy

Cyril Sneer

A pink aardvark with a very long nose, and an even longer history of scheming his way through the business industry, Cyril Sneer is a lumber baron and unscrupulous business magnate who has stopped at nothing to get his way and turn a profit. On many an occasion, Sneer’s diabolical business schemes have been thwarted by the goodnatured Raccoon Family.

Megalomaniacal and more than a touch narcissistic, Cyril does hold a soft-spot for his young son, Cedric, whom he hopes will take over his business in the future. Concerned over the wellbeing of his son and gradually impressed by the nobel antics of The Raccoons, Cyril’s attitudes mellowed and he became a more honest businessman as well as an ally to the Raccoons.

The late great Michael Magee provided the voice for Cyril Sneer, with he character first appearing in the animated television special, The Christmas Raccoons, airing on December 17th, 1980.

#Profiles in Villainy #The Raccoons #Cyril Sneer #cut-out #paper art #Villains!

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myrddin-wylt · 1 year

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If you don't mind me asking, what would Arthur's manic episodes entail?

I think I've mentioned it before, but imo the nations in general do not function mentally the same way mortals do, so I wouldn't like try to give Arthur a diagnosis or anything because the fact that he's immortal kinda means he's outside the purview of the ICD or DSM, ya know?

that being said, it depends on the severity of the episode, but generally his manic episodes do last much longer than otherwise would for mortals. his position as the nation's protector/representative means he really can drop whatever life he's living and just devote himself to a specific part of English society or whatever project he's working on. problem being, the project is sometimes like, an empire-wide thing. I mean, consider the symptoms of a 'usual' severe manic episode, except you have the resources and immortality to take far further than any mortal human could.

like he'll get the feelings of grandiosity like he's suddenly hypercompetent and unstoppable, and it combines with the nervous energy and he'll throw himself into whatever impulsive idea he's got, except the impulsive idea is like. fight an undeclared war with Spain via privateers (ie, drop everything and run off to become a pirate). or start a colony in the New World (have a baby). or unionize the barons and reform the government (help the barons force the Magna Carta on the king). or deal with the risk of Napoleon seizing the Danish fleet and using it to invade Britain (preemptively bombard Copenhagen). or solve the lumber and manpower problem (kickstart the Industrial Revolution). mind you, those are severe episodes and are relatively rare.

the milder manic episodes are much more limited to an interpersonal, mundane level rather than political and are generally.... what you'd expect? like 80% of all of his manic episodes are just him overworking or starting new writing projects because it's not like he can sleep anyway. other times he'll take an impromptu trip to another city because he wanted a specific food or a book or whatever. buy a ton of clothes because he wants to get into the whole punk subculture. refurnish the drawing room. get a new pet. go on a date with someone he hasn't seen in awhile and insist on spending way too much money on dinner. go clubbing or bar hopping and drink too much and ignore his responsibilities for a little while. start talking intensely and strangely about a topic he hasn't cared for before even if it's probably inappropriate for the setting or the listener.

usually that's it, and his immortality and position as nation means he can get away with it with far fewer consequences than most people. like if he spends too much money on shit he doesn't need, what's the worse that can happen? he'll become homeless and live on the streets? yeah, that's really just not a huge problem for an immortal. so overall he comes off as incredibly functional because he can just shrug off most consequences. doesn't mean it's healthy for him, but he can do it.

I really hope this answer made sense because I kept rewriting it and also wrote it out of order >_>

#ask #the-heaminator #myrddin's hcs #hetalia hcs #hetalia hc #hetalia headcanon #hetalia headcanons

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lulu2992 · 4 months

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Uncovering the unreleased Far Cry 5 in-game Encyclopedia

The almost complete but unused in-game encyclopedia, reconstructed thanks to the oasisstrings file.

Please note that it’s still cut content, so some information might not be relevant anymore.

You can read the oasisstrings file here. Pictures from this encyclopedia were also extracted and posted by @xbaebsae here.

Part 3: Locations - Whitetail Mountains

PIN-K0 Radar Station

Part of the Pine Line early warning system, the K0 facility was shuttered in the early 90's and left to the elements.

Rattlesnake Trail Bridge

A footbridge along the Makwa Trail, it connects one side of the gorge to the other, like bridges are supposed to do.

Snowshoe Lake

A clear glacial lake high up in the Whitetail Mountains. The water is always near freezing which makes skinny dipping a terrible idea.

Hunter’s Pass Shelter

A remote cabin used as a place to warm up or stay the night by hunters.

Ozhigwan Falls

One of the highest in the area, Ozhigwan falls is one of the natural wonders of the Park.... just don't step too close.

Jefferson Lookout Tower

A watch tower in the middle of the forest, meant to keep an eye out for forest fires or bears... or bears on fire.

Whitetail Park Visitor Center

It's where you'd go to find out what's going on at Whitetail Park, back when it was operational.

Hawkeye Tunnel

A tunnel through the mountain that offers a bird's eye view of the valley below.

Whitetail Park Ranger Station

The Ranger Station that patrols the Whitetail Park to keep it safe back when it was still open.

McKinley Dam

Named after the 25th president of the United States, McKinley Dam is used to regulate water and supply power to the people of Hope County.

Jacob’s Armory

Jacob has converted part of the McKinley Dam power station to be used as sanctuary against the coming apocalypse.

Grand View Hotel

The historic hotel in the Whitetail Mountains it was once the crown jewel of the park. Financial problems shut it down in the 80's. It's been empty ever since.

North Park Entrance

The Northern most entrance to Whitetail Park, abandoned now that the park is closed.

Bo’s Cave

A renown survivalist, Bo lives deep in forest. He is completely off the grid with none of the comforts of modern life.

Cooper Cabin

Another cabin that can be rented at Whitetail Park. Lately has been used as a safe-house by the Whitetail Militia.

Red Tail Cabin

A cabin in Whitetail Park that Eli's Militia use to take refuge from the constant attacks from Jacob's patrols.

F.A.N.G. Center

Friends of the Animals Nursing Grounds is home to Cheeseburger the Bear. Feeding times are 12:00 and 6:00 daily.

St. Francis Veteran's Center

A medical center for returning veterans, St. Francis was shuttered in the 90's when a more modern facility was constructed in a nearby county. When Eden's Gate moved in, Jacob found use for it as a place to indoctrinate his new recruits.

Lansdowne Airstrip

A small airstrip used by the locals for shipping in supplies and sightseeing tours.

Elliot Residence

Home to Rick Elliot and his family, one of the last people to holdout against Jacob and his army.

The Grill Streak

When Chad's diner was burned to the ground he retreated to his food truck. He still works hard to find food for Eli and his Militia.

Breakthrough Camp

A camp where parents sent their rebellious youth in order to get a taste of clean, wholesome outdoor living.

Old Sun Outfitters

The main supply store for camping and survival gear in the area. Seeing the writing on the wall, the owners closed shop and left while they still could.

Baron Lumber Mill

The Baron family lumber mill was already failing financially when Eden's Gate moved in and bought it out.

McNeill Residence

This house once belonged to the McNeill family before they were deemed sinners in the eyes of the cult and were forced to flee.

Linero Building Supplies

A small building supply store that sold lumber and materials. The owners ended up joining Eden's Gate, though not all of them willingly.

Haskell Lookout Tower

A watch tower overlooking the north region of the Whitetail Park.

Fort Drubman

Pretty much all the Hurk Sr. has left after his divorce from Adelaide. It's from here he runs his senate campaign with the dubious help of his son, Hurk Jr.

MCA Mobile Lab

A mobile lab where the Montana Conservation Authority conducts research on the local flora and fauna.

Loresca Residence

Former residence of Jay Loresca, former Navy Seal. Rumor has it he joined the Whitetails, but it's certain that he’s long gone.

Whitetail Mountains Rail Bridge

A bridge connecting the Henbane River and the Whitetail Mountains. It's been out of use ever since the Copperhead Rail stopped running.

Elk Jaw Lodge

Part of the Whitetail Park the Elk Jaw Lodge was a nice place to relax near Silver Lake. Now... not so much.

Wolf’s Den

The secret bunker of the Whitetail Militia, home to Eli, their leader, as well as Tammy and Wheaty.

Oberlin Picnic Area

A nice place for a group to sit down, eat, and take in baseball game at the nearby diamond.

Osprey Cabin

One of the many cabins that visitors can rent at Whitetail Park. Named after birds of prey, thy are the perfect hiding places for Eli's Militia.

Kestrel Cabin

One of the handful of individual cabins available to rent at Whitetail Park.

Mansfield Lookout Tower

An abandoned fire watch tower overlooking the southern region of Whitetail Park.

Frank’s Cabin

A cabin owned by a recluse known as Lonely Frank. He seems to like it that way.

Dansky Cabin

This is where Dicky Dansky comes to write his books about Sasquatches, Bigfoot, and other cryptids.

Valley View Overlook

A place for visitors to stop and take in the view of the forest below.

Stone Ridge Chalet

High up on a rocky ridge is a Chalet where hunters and park visitors could come and warm up.

Silver Lake Parking Lot

A nice place to stop and take a refreshing dip in nearby Silver Lake.

Clagett Boathouse

A boathouse and docks maintained by the Old Sun Outfitters.

Salvage Camp

A small camp where a salvage company is attempting to recover items from the wreck of a sunken plane

Dylan’s Master Bait Shop

In case you needed some fishing pointers... Dylan will likely just point you somewhere else.

Langford Falls Parking Lot

A spot for visitors to pause and take in the beauty of the nearby Langford Falls.

Widow’s Creek

One of Skylar's favorite fishing spots. She'll probably tell you where it got its name.

Fowler’s Retreat

A not-so-secret place where Dave keeps all of his extra Cheeseburger merchandise.

South Park Entrance

The southern enterance to Whitetail Park. Once the gem of Hope County, it has seen better days.

#far cry 5 #hope county #whitetail mountains #jacob seed #bo adams #cheeseburger #chad wolanski #hurk drubman jr #hurk drubman sr #eli palmer #tammy barnes #wheaty #dylan #skylar kohrs #dave fowler

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lakecountylibrary · 5 months

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Book Review: The Darkness Surrounds Us by Gail Lukasik

Chicago, 1918: Nellie Lester flees her home in the city to be a nurse on a remote Michigan island for a wealthy lumber baron's pregnant wife. She is haunted by her mother's past and her own demons.

Nellie has more than the Spanish flu motivating her to leave Chicago. This gothic murder-mystery with a touch of romance will keep you guessing! Perfect for a cold, dark night, this novel takes place during a typical Midwest winter. I found it to have an interesting premise, although it was a little slow in sections.

Will Nellie make peace with her demons and solve the island's secrets, before the lake freezes over? Reserve your copy today to find out!

See more of Brenna's recs

Check out The Darkness Surrounds Us

#book recommendations #book review #murder mystery #gothic fiction #historical fiction #Spanish flu #the darkness surrounds us #gail lukasik #LCPL recs #brennasrecs

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evolutionsvoid · 11 months

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There is a tale that is shared in hushed whispers and shivering voices, of a town lost in a sea of insidious fog. It is not a well known one, but those who have heard it once never forget it for the rest of their lives. A story of a Great Hart, and a greedy lumber Baron who sought to slay a legend. When him and his cruel hunting party violated the sacred beast, its death cursed the entire town. It bore a noxious fog that swallowed the village and trapped all sinners in its foul clutches. Those who ravaged the Great Heart in such a way were doomed to never know peace or rest, as the horrid mist prevented all. For many, the story stops there, as the Baron and the families who worked for him remain eternally trapped in a never ending nightmare. But there are those who say that the story is not yet done, that the torment of these sinners is not quite over. There are many questions on whether what they say is true, as many ponder the hows and whys. It doesn't matter in the end, as when the storyteller speaks, all lean in and listen to hear of what lurks within that endless fog.

For how long the Baron remained tormented by the ceaseless shroud of fog, no one can truly know. The pungent mist blotted out the sun and stars, the churning clouds of gray even dispelling the dark blanket of night. To him, it had been centuries, or perhaps only minutes, he couldn't tell anymore. There truly wasn't much he could tell from this horrid fog, as it had long since leaked into his manor and filled every room. For a while he fought it in vain, trying to seal doors and plug up holes in hopes of creating a single sanctuary safe from the mist's terrible presence. But no matter how hard he tried, it followed him everywhere, always at his heels like loyal hound. There was no reprieve from it, or the things that walked within it. There were times he swore he saw figures lurking within the fog, caught only by the corner of his eye. But when he spoke there was no answer and when he charged after them in a desperate rage his fists found nothing. He knew his manor to be empty, as his servants had long since fled into the gray nothingness, never to be seen again. The only souls he knew to be around hid within homes around town, trapped in the same hell as he. He hadn't seen his fellow hunters or their families for what seemed like ages, and he had no intention of changing that. From the haunting howls and screams that occasionally rose from the swallowed homes, he knew nothing could be found out there but madness and hate. He was alone in this castle of his, yet he never felt the peace of solitude.

Time crawled on as exhaustion ate away at his body and mind, creating shadows of madness that lurked behind every corner and door. At a point he no longer knew fear from these ethereal visitors, as he simply didn't have the strength to be afraid. There was now a hope that perhaps one of these shadowy figures would come forth and end his misery, as the fog had long robbed him of the authority over his own life. Perhaps their claws would finally let him die, maybe their vengeance would at last mean peace. But the figures never pounced, they only stared. At times when he could muster his feeble voice, he begged them for mercy or even death, but they gave nothing in return. All he could do was lay listlessly in his favorite chair, staring uselessly at the mounted hart horns in his study. In a time before, he may have had the mind to tear them from the wall and destroy them; flinging them into the fireplace or smashing them to dust, but that time has long passed. This cursed trophy had now become the last hope, perhaps the only way to communicate with whatever cruel spirit held him and his men in this nightmare. Some days he would scream at them, others would find him a sobbing mess, blubbering for any kind of answer or mercy. Sometimes when he looked at them, looming in the choking fog, he would swear they were wings of an angel, but of salvation or punishment, he didn't know. All he could do was sit and wait, hoping that one day this torment would end.

The smashing of wood and holler of voices snapped him from his mindless routine one day, and he thought that at last help had arrived. Perhaps a rescue team had successfully navigated the impossible shroud, determined to save those trapped within. He mustered his strength and hurried to the door, but he only found familiar haunted faces. It was the men who aided him in his killing of the Great Hart, having ripped through his front door in a savage state. Them and their families had been afflicted with this curse too, unable to escape from the mist that severed their ghostly village from reality. The crowd that poured through his door was all those trapped in this hell, and their gaunt bodies and crazed eyes told of their misery. It only took one look at their maddened state to know their intent, but the Baron had long lost the will to fight them.

They set upon him like a mindless horde, seizing him in their groping arms and wrapping a noose around his neck. They dragged him from his manor and to the center of town, where their desperate ritual would take place. They strung him up on a lamppost, dangling him as a sacrifice to whatever monstrosity was responsible. Though the rope bit his neck and stole his breath, he didn't die. He didn't even pass out, as the fog once again fought off the sweet darkness. Though he kicked and squirmed on the end of the rope, the townsfolk simply stared, waiting for death or another horrid spirit to bring this ritual to an end. But for hours he hung from that noose and no phantom came to claim him. The townsfolk raged and despaired at this outcome, furious that they were not free from this horror. So instead they set upon his manor once again, leaving him to dangle and choke. They tore through his home and took everything they could use as supplies. Food, clothes, blankets and every useful scrap was plundered and prepared. If the cruel gods would not release them, then they would find a way out themselves. They had failed before, as the mist always spat them back out into the cursed town, but their maddened minds would not be swayed. With all the supplies they could muster, they vanished into the endless fog, leaving the Baron to hang from this crude gallows.

His cursed fellows never reappeared as he swung from that rope, as if this savage offering truly bought them freedom. He dangled uselessly from the lamppost, choking but never dying. He waited for either his men to return or for the reaper to finally come for him, but no one came. There were times he saw figures, with twisted antlers and impossible limbs, but all they did was stare and vanish into the nothingness. There was a wonder if he would spend eternity up here, struggling for worthless breath, but an odd thing happened. After who knows how long, the rope snapped and he plummeted to the cobblestone below. Though free from the rope, he had no desire to rise to his feet. He just lay there in a useless heap and wept. His sorrow and misery was endless, until he felt a presence before him. Though his eyes were to the ground, he knew something was watching him.

He weakly raised his head to behold a bestial figure in the fog. It brought to mind the Great Hart, but this silhouette was too warped and mangled to be such earthly creature. But yet this beast did not fade or vanish, it continued to stand and stare at him. With the hope that this would at last be his moment of salvation, he shakily rose to his feet. Once up, the shadowy hart turned and strolled back into the mist. Desperate not to lose his chance at answers, he gave chase. He scrambled after it, but found nothing there. Instead, his flight brought him back to his manor. Once again lost, he stumbled back into his ransacked home, unfeeling to the destruction and emptiness around him. Before all this, he would be furious at the robbed goods and his violated castle, but now such material things were worthless. He walked aimlessly in his home, until he reached his study, where he planned to continue his endless rot. But when he glimpsed within this room, a sudden jolt raised him from this stupor.

The shadowy hart stood there, for just a moment, before it dissolved back into the fog. When it vanished, all that remained was his trophy, but it was no longer on the wall. The antler mount had fallen off and broken upon the floor, perhaps done during the looting. The antlers had not snapped, but further inspection showed that one was missing. Had the crazed villagers taken one with them? For what reason? He didn't know, but he felt that this lone antler was beckoning to him. The last fragment of the Great Hart, calling to the man who slew it. He took the once prized antler into his arms, and then felt that presence once more. He turned to find the mangled silhouette standing in the doorway, before walking out of view. Before all this, he had thought he had gone mad, purely imagining just another phantom, but now it seemed real. This was no illusion of a rotting mind, this was the spirit speaking to him, leading him to somewhere or something. For the first time in what felt like centuries, there was a hope, or at least something to follow. He took the antler with him and pursued the bestial phantom. All he caught were glimpses and flickers of movement, but it was enough to lead him to the backdoor of the manor. There he watched the ethereal hart pause at the edge of the swirling gray then walk into its maw. His body screamed at him to follow, but he paused in this action. The billowing fog had a bitter cold to it, and his emaciated body shivered at its touch. For the first time in a while, he felt that chill down to his bones, and he wondered if he could even survive such a journey. The villagers had taken blankets and furs with them to ward off the fog's cruel bite, so perhaps he should do the same. He didn't expect to find anything of use in his ransacked home, but luck smiled upon him with furs that the thieves had missed. So he bundled himself up the best he could and set off into the all consuming gray. At first he walked with new found vigor, given hope from this spirit. The world around him vanished into ceaseless fog, as if everything melted away and he was left alone in this miserable cloud. All he had to guide him was the faint shadow of the hart, always just out of reach. It beckoned him and he followed.

What started with hope was eventually turned back to desperation and misery, as his journey seemed to be one without end. Even though he kept following, the hart kept moving. His confident stride was turning to exhausted stumbling, but he dare not stop. Pausing for a breath or quick rest was not allowed, as the hart wouldn't stop and wait. It would just keep trotting away, disappearing into the fog. Though he was exhausted, a new fear forced him to keep going. What if he were to wait too long and lose the trail? What if the hart abandoned him in this cold, miserable void? Though he welcomed death at this point, the idea of being trapped in this senseless freezing realm terrified him, so he followed. The journey just kept going and going, only being broken up by the occasional fallen log to climb over or gnarled trees to weave past. The Baron barely cleared these pathetic obstacles, as his momentary strength had long faded, but he still desired to keep going. There had to be an end to this madness, a purpose to this torture.

Even when his knees grew too weak to carry him, he crawled after the hart with antler in tow. At last, the shadowy hart came to a stop, and he collapsed to the earth. When he gained his breath, he finally looked up to see where the phantom had led him. To his horror, he found himself upon a familiar sight: a hefty spear, with its bloodied tip buried in the earth. Though this weapon had been taken back to his home after the successful hunt, he knew what its presence here signified. This was the spot where the Great Hart perished, this was the site of his greatest sin. The blood upon it now was surely the hart's, piercing a heart that once lay here in its final moments. He looked to the horrid shadow that brought him on this grueling journey, but it still did not speak. Instead it looked only to the antler in his hand.

His eyes followed the phantom's, wondering if this last piece of the beast was the key to solving this. Perhaps offering it to the spirit would appease the hart and let it move on from this world. Frantic, he held the antler to the shadow, holding it high with head bowed, hoping this bit of humility would earn him mercy. He felt the antler quiver in his hand, as if it was becoming alive. Then it was plucked free from his grip, springing upwards into the fog. Surprised, he dared himself to look up, to see if this was indeed his final test. When he turned his face to the heavens, he found only pain. Like an ivory bolt, the antler shot down and embedded itself into his head. The sawed stump burrowed in like a parasite, fusing to skin and bone. The agony blinded him, and it was only the insidious influence of the choking fog that kept him from passing out. When he regained his senses, the antler was now a part of him, erupting from his skull like a horrid growth. He whimpered before the uncaring hart, that still only stared. He quivered in pain and confusion, wondering what was the point of all this. Why torture him like this? Hadn't he suffered enough? Why did it bring him here? To mock him? To teach him a lesson? He didn't know and it drove his crumbling mind to madness. With what little strength he had, he got to his knees and screamed out to the terrible hart.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO!?" He shrieked at the top of his lungs, shredding his vocal cords in this one desperate plea. The guttural cry echoed through the mist, but the spirit of the Great Hart did not flinch. It seemed the Baron's cries fell on deaf ears, or at least the hart's. Though the phantom didn't react in the slightest, something responded from deep in the fog. A terrible sound, one you would hear from the darkness of your nightmare. It was like the growl of a tortured beast, a cry that can only come from a ravaged throat. It was the first sound he had heard in the entire eternity of this pointless journey, and it chilled him to the core. Then more came from the void, more horrible rumbles and barks, like the baying of rabid dogs. The hart stood still as a statue, as the first figure emerged from the fog. It took the Baron a moment to realize what he was looking at had once been human, as this beast was truly grotesque. The clothes and furs they had worn were shredded to ribbons, hanging off their skeletal frame like flaps of flayed skin. Beneath these torn garments was skin ravaged by scars and time, where old wounds had been healed and torn open again and again. The reason for this was seen in their gnarled hands, whose nails had grown to sickening lengths. Their face was barely visible from the tangled curtains of hair that spilled from their head. The only thing that could be seen was a pair of crazed eyes set above a gnashing maw of crooked, shattered teeth.

The Baron fell back in fear, disgusted and terrified by the wretched creature before him. The hair of its head and hide made it look like some terrible animal, which was almost true when one looked into those bloodshot eyes. Humanity was long gone from this vile creature, replaced with the mania of a wounded starving beast. As he gaped in horror at the grunting, slavering abomination, more emerged from the fog. Each was coated in overgrown hair, erupting in clumps from head, chin, limbs and back. It nearly masked the torn clothing on their emaciated forms, but enough remained for the Baron to recognize pieces of it. These furs and coats had once been in his very own closet, until one violent raid. As the crowd of rabid man beasts grew, the Baron realized he was now faced with the hunters and their families, those who had strung him up and dared journey into the fog. Whatever they had found in that desperate journey had changed them, driving them to some bestial madness. They looked as if they had been lost for centuries, kept alive by this terrible noxious mist.

The Baron was horrified by the maddened beasts, and wondered of his own fate. When he met their mindless gaze, he knew exactly what was in their shattered minds. A rumble of sickening growls rose from these beasts, and vile quivering jaws dripped with saliva and rot. Their long nails clacked against each other, eager to taste flesh and blood. The Baron stumbled back, his feeble limbs failing him once more. He looked to the terrible form of the Great Hart, hoping that what was about to happen was merely an illusion. What he saw in those eyes was not mercy. For the first time throughout this entire horror show, the spirit spoke to him.

"Run."

The crowd of mindless man beasts let out a terrible shriek, and he ran. Though his legs were too weak to carry him, he still ran, galloping and stumbling on all fours to escape the horde of ravenous animals. They clawed after him, letting out guttural howls and obscene barks as they tore through the fog. He ran, even though his body screamed and burned. He ran because he could feel those nails rake against his furs and haunches whenever he slowed in the slightest. Though the coat suffocated his sweating, exhausted frame and the antler hung heavy like a leaden crown, he ran. There were times he screamed and begged for his former men to stop or for the hart to grant him mercy, but words could not escape from his lips. His vocal chords were damaged beyond repair, releasing only frightened bleats and shrieks of a tortured animal. His voice found no ears or reason, so he ran. He ran because that was all he could do...

This is where the storytellers grow silent, claiming this is the end of the tale. If this is the true end of the Baron and his fellow men, there is no way to tell. The town continues to be nameless and lost, forever swallowed by the noxious mist. The tortured souls of this tale are nowhere to be found, so one cannot ask them. The only way one can ever know the truth is to somehow discover that ghostly village and see for yourself. But none hope for such a thing, because once you enter, you can never leave. Entering the fog is entering a realm of unending gray, where rest and death cannot find you. Where the choking mist violates your very essence, and unyielding clouds steal away your senses. It is a fate that makes everyone shudder when they see the morning mist, or the eerie fog of a darkened forest. It makes one wonder if they have stumbled upon this cursed place and have set foot into a terrible reeking hell. Most who hear this tale are quick to flee from these simple clouds, convinced that they will whisk them away to this horrible fate. It sounds like a silly thing, but these folk swear to it. They claim to catch a whiff of that pungent odor, of that chilling bite of the fog. And as they flee they swear they hear those terrible sounds, ones that will haunt them for the rest of their lives. Those guttural barks and howls of hunting dogs, and the tortured cry of desperate fleeing hart....

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A long time ago I posted the Spirit of Hartshorn, which spoke of a town shrouded in foul mist, brought on by a greedy Baron. There was a continuation planned for it, but obviously I have taken my sweet time posting it.

#horror story #monster #creature #art #drawing #this be a long one folks!

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