TDM: January

[moustre]

Test Drive: January

Welcome to aefenglom's test drive! All threads can be considered game canon, should you choose to do so; regardless of if you pick specific threads to remain canon to the game, the prompts and test drive itself will be. This will be touched on later in-game, so it's fairly important to note! Aside from that, here are some quick reminders:



• 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!



With that taken care of...

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.

Comments

Urianger Augurelt | FFXIV | witch

[prophexy]

A - The Natives

[ He's not used to this place, or he might have been more cautious. When he realized there was a village here, people he could converse with and get information, he approached openly, being careful to keep his hands visible but without any hesitation or concealment.

But he's not used to a world of only Hyur and monsters, and he doesn't quite grasp the situation until they've already surrounded him. In addition to his being well over six feet tall and having visibly pointed ears, Elezen proportions are off enough that they seem convinced he's some kind of monster. From what he can gather of their discussion as he stands in the middle of a group, hands in the air, with weapons pointed at him, the only question is whether they should just drive him away or make certain he's incapable of coming back. ]

I assure thee, I mean no harm to thy village. I sought only information. [ He shifts out of the way of a warning jab, and continues doggedly. ] But allow me to depart, and I shall go willingly - thy weapons are wholly unnecessary.

[Help?]

B - The Invaders

[Urianger hasn't spent three years learning to get along with pixies for nothing, right? These Fae are much larger and more insectoid, but the similarities are undeniable regardless. Even so, while well-placed flattery may put them in a good mood, he can't seem to get any useful answers about why they're here or what the deal is with their mortal pets.

Once he's given up trying, they seem content to ignore him while he stands off to the side and tries to assess the situation on his own.]

I would suspect that the difficulty lies less in freeing the bound than in ensuring they aren't recaptured...

C - Wildcard

[ By all means, drag him into something else! ]

B - /rubs hands together

[darkcharge]

[ The Fae don't pester Vanitas for good reason. After a few scorched/frozen wings and a few other mishaps, they are pretty content to give him the space he requires. Vanitas doesn't play well, after all.

When he sees the tall guy standing off to the side, muttering about how to best help the poor fools that have been captured? Eh, he can't entirely help himself but to interject. ]

Are you sure that it is really your place to interfere?

[prophexy]

[ Urianger tilts his head down at the boy. Despite Vanitas' tone, there's no sign of offense or censure in that measuring gaze - if anything, he seems almost eager to rise to the challenge offered by those words.

Probably because he's been asked a question whose answer has been thoroughly drilled into his bones: ] 'To ignore the plight of those one might conceivably save is not wisdom - it is indolence.' [ He looks back out over the captives for a moment. ] ...Though acknowledging their suffering is a different matter than acting to relieve it. If, in fact, we lack the resources to repair the situation entirely, a task left half-unfinished would likely cause more harm than leaving things be...

[darkcharge]

[ Well. Looks like someone is a thinker before a doer. Surprise surprise. Not too many of those in Van's experience. Not to mention that tattoo... Vanitas is fairly certain he has seen it before, though he's not entirely certain as to where. ]

At least you get some bonus points for realizing the futility of freedom without the means to ensure their survival. That's more than what some would think.

[ Of course those from where he's from aren't supposed to interfere at all. To do so is supposed to mess up with the world order. Vanitas has never cared about this, of course. ]

Though can you say for certain that they should be freed?

[ After all they can't possible be 100% certain about how those captives came to be as such. ]

B

[inlikethebrume]

It makes me feel uncomfortable if I have to be honest.

[Quiet and trying not to cause much of a scene but in reality, it's Mira trying to keep her emotions in check. It feels simply wrong but what even does go on in this place. There is also a bit of a pause; Mira knows by now that those she may know will not know her in return. So it's a small test to see if her hunch is right.

Halone help any fae who tries to come near her.]

[prophexy]

Indeed. I only question whether we have the resources to enact an effective solution. Ineffective assistance seems like to worsen their plight far more than leaving things as they are...

[ He turns to regard her, and indeed, there is no particular recognition in his gaze. ] But I am as yet new-come to this place. If others share our perspective on the matter, perhaps they will have more idea of how to proceed.

[inlikethebrume]

[Of course he wouldn't know her. Stupid to even think anyone would at this point in time.]

That is troublesome. Sure we would have freed them from their bindings but where could they go after we leave? Would they be able to defend and take care of themselves?

[Still sucks but Mira doesn't know much about this place to give a valid suggestion.]

B

[wordsinthesoul]

In making sure that they have somewhere to go, then…

[That- sounds familiar enough, and his thoughts are half turned to that- everything here seems enormous- before he processes that voice, and turns to look properly, ears rising a little.]

Urianger?

[prophexy]

[ The response happens in stages: Urianger first turns at the sound of his voice, a faint smile on his lips, visibly relieved to have familiar company in this strange place.

The relief fades to confusion and concern when what he sees doesn't exactly match his expectations. With his face exposed, it's very easy to read the uncertainty that he hasn't had time to conceal. ] ...Thancred?

[ It's undoubtedly his friend, but... Well. First things first. ] 'Tis a relief indeed to see a familiar face in a foreign world. ...But I fear thou may have need to explain once again what I have missed in the space between our meetings.

[wordsinthesoul]

[He expects the confusion, honestly- the changes are hard to deny, after all- and he shifts a little awkwardly, wings and feathers shifting in turn.]

It is, at that. [Even though- he can't help sorry worry as to what it means for Urianger. But at that he nods, glancing around.] We ought to find somewhere we won't be located easily first- that way, perhaps. [He hesitates for a moment, before turning- but it's important.] We may need to speak of when that way, too- many of the others recall more than I do.

A

[frostmoon]

Threats do not an ally make, [ says the man behind the villagers. Surely he wasn't there the moment before?

Urianger can't see him yet, but he's wearing a worn sheet as some sort of cloak. His bright blue hair stands out under the arid plains, mirroring the colour of the sky above. His hands are visible under the fabric of his cloak, wholly transparent as if made from ice. ]

Let him go. Wasting your weapons would make you the hunted another day.

[ The villagers whisper amongst themselves and break away, brandish their spears at the clearly more fae-looking person instead. One of the braver ones charge at him - Raemiel dodges backwards with practiced ease, remaining just out of reach to lure the mob away from the stranded elf. ]

[prophexy]

[ Broken away from considering what nonlethal magics he might employ to escape the situation, Urianger isn't going to hesitate to take the opening offered. He immediately makes toward the edge of the group, putting enough distance between himself and the villagers that they can't surround him a second time.

Once he's out of easy range, he circles back around a little. This stranger seems like someone who can take care of himself, but that doesn't mean he's comfortable just abandoning his savior either. He reaches out with an arcane gesture and conjures a wide, clear barrier of interlocked hexagonal shapes between the villagers and the two of them. ]

Return to thy homes; we shall leave thee in peace.

[ The wall is an illusion: he's gambling on the natives' fear of magic buying them a little more time to escape. ]

[frostmoon]

[ The Lost are always further from humanity than most, and thus he does not prioritize the natives over the elf before him. This prompted him to aid Urianger even at no apparent benefit to himself, for he felt compelled to assist those who were different and cast outside.

Not that he admits that, though. He stops in his dexterous evasion of their pursuers once Urianger puts up his shield; the display is enough to dissuade the villagers from continuing their attack and venturing further away from their village. He watches them leave, unmoving from where he had stopped, until the natives are a fair distance away. Only then does he look at Urianger instead - his eyes are a very pale blue, almost white.

Raemiel waits to see if Urianger will say anything or offer information about himself. He's cautious about who he meets in this odd dream. ]

B

[lyriumburned]

[Fenris frowns a little, watching the spectacle.]

That's if they even want to be freed. They likely don't know any better. I overheard some talk of -[he wrinkled his nose in distaste even thinking about it]- 'breeding'. They likely wouldn't survive out there.

[He nearly hadn't.]

[prophexy]

[Urianger sighs heavily.] ...If they have been raised in such captivity, it does provide additional barriers to their release.

[He does turn to regard this newcomer, though, gold eyes scanning his features with a measured curiosity. It's bad luck indeed, he thinks, for a young Elezen to have apparently been brought to such a place as this in the midst of reaching his full growth. The markings are interesting, too, unlike any tradition he's familiar with.] We should certainly assess the lay of the land more thoroughly before deciding upon any course of action. It's far too soon as yet to understand what greater impact we may effect.

[lyriumburned]

[Fenris would definitely be taking offense if he knew his short stature was being misinterpreted so egregiously. Luckily for both of them, he was blissfully unaware.]

What else do you know about this place? What makes you so sure we'll be afforded the time to do anything at all?

[He wasn't sure how else to phrase it. This felt like a dream, it had since he'd suddenly found himself in the jungle. It was a very strange and realistic dream, but he couldn't shake that feeling. And, if it was, he'd be waking up soon and all these figments of his imagination wouldn't need rescuing anymore.]

A - shb spoilers are a given

[exarchal]

[Just when things appear to be hopeless, the clear high note of a whistle cuts through the air. The warriors all turn to glance at the strange hooded man a few yards away. He'd been keeping a low profile until now, as low as he could at least, and there are murmurs of healer? despite the strangeness of his appearance.

So that's what he's been doing.]

As but a humble guest of your village, I implore you—pray do not act so hastily. The man you have accosted is a man, not one of the Fae who yet desire to invade your home. Like me he has learned the power of medicine, of the natural gift that the earth provides; he is a close friend from my homeland.

Should you have more wounded, I would aid them, and call upon Urianger here as my assistant.

[Though hooded, his eyes can be felt. Unless you have a better plan, my guy, you'd better play along.]

[prophexy]

[Upon recognizing the newcomer, Urianger doesn't bother to hide his relief at the reprieve - it isn't out of place regardless, even if these villagers don't understand the full situation.]

It is as he says, and I should be glad to provide any aid thou mayest require. Prithee, lay aside thine arms - thou canst see well that I have raised none of mine own. [Aside from his literal arms, anyway, which are now slowly lowering as the villagers' suspicions decrease.

With a few more murmurings, they subside enough to let him pass, and Urianger quickly makes his way to the Exarch's side.]

My thanks, indeed, friend. I should have regretted the need to defend myself had the situation grown any more fraught.

[exarchal]

[He actually isn't sure Urianger will recognize him until he does. That's a relief. Granted, from what he's wearing, that should have been a given... but things work differently here, and there's a possibility he had worn something similar to this before arriving in the First.

Whatever the case, Urianger is happily in his care now. The Exarch makes a gesture for Urianger to follow. He leans on his staff a bit as they walk, seemingly playing up the harmless old man angle. He has to do what he can to not seem like one of the feral monsters terrorizing this poor village.

He keeps his voice low.]

I do not doubt your ability to negotiate your way out of trouble, seeing as you too have dealt with the residents of Il Mheg and to great success, but these are a different lot. They are... traumatized from what they have experienced, and do not react well to outsiders. This appears seems to be a time before literature not unlike the First Astral Era... certainly different from the dream I had before I arrived myself.

B

[omnicrafter]

[This is... uncomfortably familiar. Some bizarre mishmash of Eulmore and Lydha Lran, if she had to put words to it, perhaps with a dash of Ul'dahn gladiatorial fights on top of that.

Irhya observes Urianger from afar at first, then slowly makes her way closer, knowing full well they're going to have that one awkward conversation all over again.]

It's as if the pixies have had their worst childlike traits magnified a hundredfold, losing all sense of empathy in the process. I imagine even a trade would only amuse them for so long before they changed their minds and tossed us into the pit as recompense.

[prophexy]

[He turns to watch her as she speaks, expression neutral but faintly puzzled.]

Aye, like as not. I should not like to attempt using flowers and vilekin wings to trade with these.

I beg patience with mine confusion, but...I know not thy face. Art thou of the First, to speak of the pixies with such familiarity?

A

[truescholar]

[ Somehow, dumb luck has brought Ienzo to the village a few moments after Urianger's arrival. Everyone's distracted, so they fail to notice him freezing upon realizing the place isn't so friendly, and then promptly ducking behind a nearby crop of boulders.

Ienzo peers out, lop ears catching the villagers clamoring discussion along with the elezen's request to leave. (The puca traits have some benefits he supposes...) He thinks frantically for a long moment. He's hardly a hero, and he hasn't even met Urianger but...something inside his brain giggles excitedly at the situation: 'trick them, trick them!' it whispers. So, Ienzo takes a deep breath...

And the roar of a dragon splits the air.

He's not sure how convincing it'll be. But hopefully its enough to create a useful diversion.]

[prophexy]

[It doesn't have to be very convincing, or for long. The moment the roar is heard, all of the warriors' attention turns toward the sky, unwilling to ignore even the possibility of a dragon attack. Having been waiting for any opportunity to defuse the situation without violence, Urianger slips between two of them before they have a chance to question it or regain their focus.

Once they no longer have him surrounded, with a potential unseen threat lingering, they seem much less inclined to keep him from fleeing. He doesn't give them a chance to reconsider, swiftly retreating the way he came...conveniently, right past Ienzo's hiding place, although he's too distracted to notice yet that he isn't alone.]

A.

[powerful]

( Her magics are cut off here. They don't feel the same way they used to, they don't feel familiar. It's not that she doesn't have magic. She does. It's just not hers anymore. Not truly. She can't really feel it in her soul, the way she could in Chance Harbor. There is power, of course. She looks at the scar on her palm, the Balcoin sigil, and sighs. The power here is not like the power was at home.

Cassie is so distracted by her own thoughts that it is not until she hears a deep and heavily-accented voice growing progressively more distressed with each word that she even realizes she's approached any sort of civilization whatsoever. The people in front of her look strange even by this world's standards; out of place and primitive, they remind her of indigenous tribes to the Amazon rain forest, what little photographic evidence could ever be produced of them without someone being slain for their unfamiliarity.

Which... Seems to be what is transpiring in front of her. She can't just sit back and watch this poor, weird-looking guy get stabbed at over and over again.

Closing her eyes, she concentrates. She starts to lift her hands, but then thinks better of it, and uses her thoughts alone as a means of projection. The magic here is so unfamiliar, yet feels innate, and with just a bit of focus on her intent, she abjures, essentially erecting an invisible barrier around the man, blocking the blows he doesn't manage to dodge. )

Hey!

( The villagers eyes' lift and shift their attention to her, though it was not their attention she sought. )

Um - it'd probably be a good idea to maybe run now. I don't know how long I can hold!

[prophexy]

[He doesn't bother with verbal acknowledgment right away: in fact, as soon as he realizes the barrier's presence, he's beginning to retreat. Hearing her voice only offers a direction for him to begin running.

He speaks up once he's approaching her position, though his pace doesn't slow just yet.] My gratitude for thy timely aid!