dagung | TDM: January

Entry tags:

* tdm

TDM: January

Test Drive: January

All threads can be considered game canon,

the prompts and test drive itself will be

• Reserves Open Today! If you're interested in securing a spot, put one in! We accept applications without reserves too, of course. Reserves will expire three days before the end of the application period, on the 28th.
• Applications Open The 24th! These will last until the end of the month, the 31st, with the intro log going up on February 1st. The application page can be found here. As a reminder, this will be our last uncapped application round!
• If you have any questions about the game or the world, please refer to the FAQ page; if you still have questions, feel free to ask them! For questions specific to the test drive, please ask them on the appropriate thread.
• For the purposes of the test drive, your character will have access to all magics taught by the Coven if they're a Witch, and as much of their shifted form as you'd like if they're a Monster. Feel free to play around and experiment with each!
• Test drive threads can be used as samples for your applications!

You feel like you're floating. Around you, colors and sounds and smells swirl as if trapped in a whirlpool, vibrancy and hue ever shifting. The more you watch them, the less solid they are; they only become clear out of the corner of your eye. The area around you begins to feel more solid as well, until your feet are on the ground, the wind brushes playfully against your face -

and you know one thing, and one thing alone: this is a dream, and an incredibly realistic one at that.

The Prehistoric Wilde

Thick summer heat hangs heavy over the uninfected landscape like a damp blanket, smothering. The jungle around you is thick and wet, full of the sounds of chittering animals and the high-pitched drone of insects. The flora and fauna are like nothing you've ever seen before, large and alien in colors and shapes, though they bear no signs of the Cwyld. Flowers the size of a man's head and brightly colored in rainbow hues curl their tendrils invitingly, and giant mosquitoes buzz through the air seeking a meal. You can barely see the glow of the twin moons through the thick canopy above. There are no signs of civilization - at least, not the civilization most will be used to; only the distant sound of the river, compelling you to follow its winding path. But will you go forward, or will you go back?

Rumble in the Jungle
Making headway through the jungle at night is a chore. The foliage grows thick and the humid heat is oppressive for even those who enjoy the warmth. There are no clear paths here, no easy way through. The canopy of the ancient trees far, far over your head is just as dense, but the faintest moonlight filters through the holes left by the huge leaves in stippling patterns across the musty forest floor. 'Large' seems to be the theme - lining whatever path you pick your way through, there are pitcher plants massive enough to swallow a grown man, with small animals and giant insects being digested down inside the sticky liquid that fills them. The flowers are as big as a man's head, and come in a rainbow of colors, their venomous tendrils curling toward signs of life. The trunks of some of the trees are as thick as houses, and shade the ground beneath them with leaves like umbrellas. The hand-sized mosquitoes thrive in the sticky heat and if not killed first, can make off with a full pint of blood from an unsuspecting person.

At some point in your journey, the ground begins to rumble beneath your feet. The farther you go, the longer you walk, the more signs of life become visible: thick, winding trails of crushed foliage, huge, animalistic footprints in the mud. Luckily, to this world, you are small and insignificant, and may escape the notice of the local Monsters - the massive, prehistoric ancestors of today's Monsters.

They seem like giants, colossal Titanoboa Nagas with hollow fangs like swords, towering Fauns with the lower halves of mammoths, sabertooth Turnskins, pterodactyl Harpies with leathery wings. Even the parts of them that resemble humans (and they have far fewer human-like parts than their modern counterparts) are larger than any actual human being. They operate primarily on instinct, made even stronger by the full moons above, and perceive the strange new creatures as threats - or food.

Sticking to the river seems safest - at least until you run into megalodon Merrow, singing an alien, but alluring, song to draw in prey, or the apex predator of this prehistoric world - Dragons, bigger and scalier than the ones Mirrorbound may know, stopped to drink at the river. All other Monsters flee from the huge reptiles, lest they become food themselves. Luckily you can defend yourself with your new abilities, or your neat changes - you're small, but not totally helpless.

Interesting to note... while all other Monster types are represented, there are no Fae or Chimeras in the Wilde here, and the Vampires are more like huge bat-monsters that traverse the jungle on all fours than humanoid bloodsuckers.

The Natives
Going backward, away from the distant sounds of the sea and against the current of the river, leads you through dense jungle. How long have you traversed the landscape? Hours? Days? Time passes funny in dreams. Eventually the trees thin out, grow taller and less leafy, and the air becomes drier. Instead of loamy soil beneath your feet, you start to feel rocky, harder earth, and spot outcroppings of stone. The sun begins to rise, which makes it easier to spot people on the horizon, a little settlement coming to life in the morning, nestled where the river forks into two.

They're much hardier than the familiar people of Aefenglom, sunburned and dressed in natural, rough fabrics. Their homes, if one can call them that, are shoddy little structures made of sticks and leaves and mud, pressed up against the sturdiness of the stone formations. And, when they spot strangers approaching their village, they scramble for their weapons - crude clubs, stone axes, even just large rocks snatched up off the ground.

The translation magic works on them, thankfully. Their speech is halted and simple, but they get their point across. Tell them who you are, or they'll beat your brains in. Monsters might get their brains beat in anyway if they aren't careful, even though they're much smaller than the Monsters these humans are used to. And Witches? May the gods help you if you use magic in front of these terrified, unevolved people, lest they mistake you for a Fae (the word is whispered with fear and revulsion in their voices) and swarm you with simple iron tools. If you're an actual Fae, an obvious Fae? They'll whisk their children into their huts protectively and then run you right out of the village. Violently.

The truly observant, or those who can see through illusions, among you may notice something strange, though. Some Fae actually seem to live among them, heavily cloaked in natural illusions, with the primitive humans none the wiser. There are just a few, but all of them look young, twelve or thirteen at the oldest, and they are all scared of their secret coming to light. Fae who get caught tend to be burned at the stake around here.

The Invaders
Perhaps you chose to go forward, with the current and toward the distant sound of ocean waves, where the river pours into the sea. More long-time residents of Aefenglom may notice that the shoreline is familiarly-shaped, but wider, bigger, not yet worn down by thousands of years of erosion. There is no bustling Harbor, only the waves crashing on the rocks, small islands dotting the water near the shore. There is no Bright Wall - there is no city, even, only an expanse of beach transitioning gently into an idyllic grove dotted with gauzy, pointed tents, and a beautiful, gilded ship half sunk into the sandy earth.

It seems safer than the jungle, at first - until you notice all the Fae. They're more insectoid than the ones many are familiar with, with big, glittering eyes and either bright, jewel-toned wings like dragonflies or butterflies, or delicate, leafy wings in greens and browns. They're also taller than modern, lesser Fae, though not by much, and they're thin and angular, standing on spindly limbs that barely seem able to hold them.

Characters receive a warmer welcome here, by the band of true Fae that have made their camp in the grove, though the alien-looking beings have a tendency to treat them like toys, children, or both, cooing over their sizes and their magic.
"Look at the little Monsters! Aren't they cute!"
"We should make some of our own! And oh, the little humans have magic! Delightful!"
It's hard to have a conversation with one - they're condescending at best, and at worst, flit off to another entertainment out of boredom while you're mid-sentence.

And entertainments abound in their camp. They're served and tended to like emperors by collared humans - adults and young adults do the heavy labor, including pulling grand little chariots for transportation, though there are some highly-supervised human children running about fetching drinks and fanning their Fae masters with palm leaves.

Farther out, a large, deep pit has been dug out of the earth, ringed by a waist-high barrier of logs, a few Fae gathering at the barrier and leaning over, talking in conversational, happy voices. Down below, Chimera gladiators fight for their amusement, while the Fae keep up running commentary, discussing each warrior's chances, new breeding prospects, interesting crossbreeds their fellows have come up with ("She's trying an Arachne and a Turnskin together, how delightful!"). Trying to disrupt the proceedings will only result in the Fae turning their magic on you - illusions and curses, nasty little tricks. Sit down, silly little ones! The fight is just getting good! Or maybe... Maybe they'll toss you into the pit to see what your chances are in battle.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Content Warning: Leslie was a victim of child abuse, so while she doesn’t usually talk about it, her thoughts and actions are often noticeably shaped by those experiences. If you don’t want to deal with the results of child abuse or have any other reason to not want to thread with her, her opt out post is here

IC Note: In all of these threads, Leslie is being followed around by a living shadow (living collective of shadows? it’s unclear). They’re just going to be quietly staying inside her normal shadow, so I’m not going to mention them in any of the prompts, but Word of Mod is that someone who is magically sensitive, such as an experienced Witch, could notice them. I leave it up to player choice whether your character notices or comments on wow, Leslie, why does your mom let you have two shadows stacked on top of each other?? ]

I. Rumble in the Jungle

A) A Beautiful(?) Day in My Neighbourhood

[ You think you’re amazed by the sights of prehistory? Leslie has never been in a forest in her life. She’s fascinated by everything.

Following a small set of footprints in the mud, or just happening to wander in the right direction, will lead to the sight of a child rushing about with wild abandon, looking at everything and anything with great curiosity. At a glance, she appears to be around 9 or 10 despite her hair already being white, and she also definitely doesn’t look like she belongs here. The bare feet (now caked in mud) might not look out of place, but the ruffly nightgown and the plush rabbit toy stuffed under an arm definitely aren’t prehistoric.

Some of the things she might be found doing are probably harmless, like when she tries to jump up to grab at a low-hanging giant leaf (she is still at least two feet short at the top of her jump to grab it) or when she tries to turn over a log from a fallen tree over to see underneath (a similar lack of success given her arms are thin enough that they look like they’d snap if she fell over wrong.

Others might be less so. Biology was not a part of her education growing up, so she’s unaware that bright colours in the jungle generally mean poisonous, or in the case of the curling vines, venomous. All she knows is that the flowers are pretty and she wants to know what they smell like.

In either case, she would welcome company. In the latter case, she really needs it. ]

B. Buzz Off!!

[ If visual discovery isn’t your thing, we have one here for our auditory learners when a shriek pierces the background noise of the jungle. Right now, Leslie has a bit of an insect problem.

You see, about the hand-sized mosquitoes? Leslie’s hands are quite a bit smaller than usual, being only a little over four feet tall, but that doesn’t make the mosquitoes any smaller. She currently has one riding on her back, taking up not a small amount of real estate, while Leslie flails ineffectually, trying to reach her passenger and having much less success than she’d like, even when using her black bunny plush as a bludgeoning weapon. ]

How did — what is — ow! Don’t bite me!

[ She is very rarely managing to finish her thoughts as she is freaking out over this frankly enormous bug. Please help. ]

II. The Natives

A. Astronomy Lied to Me?!

[ After calming down the villagers, Leslie has taken a seat on a flat rock (after dusting it off the best she can), placing her stuffed rabbit on her be-nightgowned lap. She doesn't really need to rest, because this is a dream, but it felt like she'd been walking for so long that she feels like she ought to take a moment's rest. Swinging her legs a little, she looks up at the night sky. It always makes her feel -- hmm? There's something strange going on here.

Getting up, she seeks out the first person she can find who doesn't back away automatically from her, which is to say you. Holding her plush toy in her arms, she tries to get into your line of sight. ]

Hello. Do you -- ?

[ She comes up short. Huh. Your clothes are a lot more like she's used to seeing than from the villagers. This is especially true if you're wearing clothes from Aefenglom, as their Victorian aesthetic isn't that far removed from her own canon's kind of Georgian period aesthetic, but really, just having regular tailoring is enough to make it familiar. After a moment, she shakes her head -- it's a dream -- and resumes her question. ]

Do you see what looks like a second moon, too? What is that?

B. Children Are Children Everywhere

[ Despite the wariness of the general village atmosphere, even here, there are the joyful shouts of children. As Terry Pratchett might say, it's a lovely sound as long as you are too far away to hear what they were actually saying.

On the outskirts of the village, a group of children have set up a very low-tech shooting gallery, which is to say they have a flat rock that they put other rocks on to try to knock off by throwing even smaller rocks. When all you have is a hammer....

One of those children definitely isn't a part of the village, wearing a ruffly nightgown, but it seems she's been roped into the game. When it comes to her turns to throw, the village children are generally using noises or simple words to express more or less "wow, you suck at this." Leslie is not a good aim.

Eventually, though, someone notices that their children are not being as cautious about this outsider than they should be, and they are rounded up, leaving Leslie standing there looking a little confused and disappointed. She dejectedly tosses a few more rocks (they all miss their intended target) before a couple of the villagers come back to shoo her off completely. Look, we're ostracizing you. Don't hog the playground.

Obediently, Leslie scurries farther off before slowing down, looking first frustrated, then determined, as she goes from merely walking away to looking around on the ground for something.

Looking up to see you, she asks: ]

Have you seen some kind of flat rock, maybe raised a little off the ground, somewhere around? Outside of the village?

[ She's not going to just let herself be bad at this game when she has an opportunity to practice. ]

III. The Invaders

[ This is Leslie's grumpy face. She doesn't like being treated like a child, and it's not especially helping that they're doing it to everyone.

The thing that is most concerning to her, though, is the way that the humans here are dressed. The history books she's read are official histories, which means that if there was slavery in the early days of the empire, they certainly never wrote it somewhere Leslie has been able to find it. But even so, something about a collar just feels...bad.

After not finding any success asking the humans working here (and the fae becoming, if anything, even more patronizing when she tries), she instead sidles up to someone who also doesn't look like they belong here. Maybe not quite as much as Leslie, who is dressed for bed with no shoes, but certainly not anyone from here. ]

Are...are the... [ She traces about halfway around her own neck to indicate the collars. ] Is it normal for servants to be dressed like that?

[Aerith's just as mystified and fascinated by the change in scenery, the wild and untamed bursts of foliage, the pitcher plants that swallow massive mosquitoes (and in one instance, a bird) whole. The distant rumble of something large and cumbersome moving in the brush. Even with her own eagerness to explore, she's observant enough to notice a child, especially one that seems so out of place, and she's luckily quick enough to catch sight of that child reaching for one of the vividly bright flowers. She doesn't recognize her, but she knows enough to look out for anyone young and unsupervised.

Aerith scrambles forward, not mindful of the noise she's making, needing to lift her skirts some in order to run and almost tripping over a large, fallen tree branch in her haste to get to the kid before she touches anything dangerous.]

Hey, hey! Don't touch that — be careful!

Edited 2020-01-17 23:15 (UTC)

[Leslie may not recognize that the problem is the danger the flower poses to her, but her instinctive reaction saves her. Someone is yelling not to touch that = back up immediately while bending her elbows and tucking her arms in close to her body so her palms are open and facing out and, more importantly, are not touching anything.

Her response comes in a tone like she'd gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar (not that she ever would).]

I'm sorry! I didn't do anything!

[The way the girl sounds so chastised makes Aerith soften immediately. She slows to a jog once danger appears not to be imminent, and stops in front of Leslie, leaning over some to catch her breath before speaking up.

When she does, she sounds relieved, and not even a little angry.]

Oh, thank goodness... I was so worried you'd touch it before I got to you! Flowers that are brightly colored like that can be dangerous, sometimes. Are you okay? You aren't hurt, are you?

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oh hey you. I do a small enough number of threads that I remember tagging you on a meme once.

yes i remember! hello again!

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