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TDM: January
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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.With that taken care of...
• 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. |
Morrigan | Dragon Age | witch
[ Morrigan knows when she dreams. Yet this is not the Fade, where the world around her is not under her control but often shapes itself to reflect her beliefs, her thoughts, her desires. This is something different, and she feels somehow different.
She trudges through the jungle as she has marched through many places she would rather not be, driven as much by a desire to find its end as she is by a curiosity to find out what lies beyond. The heat puts a sheen on her skin and makes the hair escaping her pins stick to the back of her neck; it could wilt even a stone golem, she thinks, but she finds it preferable to bitter bone-deep cold.
When she hears what sounds like struggling somewhere in the trees head, she approaches warily to find an unfortunate soul struggling against the advances of an particularly large plant. The blast of ice from her hand is pure reflex, but the magic courses through her in a different way, tastes like a different flavor.
Still, it does its job. The offending tendrils are coated in a thin casing of ice. ]
A plant lover, I see.
[ rumbling 2 ]
[ Walking along the river makes the heat seem less oppressive and provides a welcome change of scenery. She barely stops for a moment until she sees the massive dragon in the distance.
No stranger to dragons, she still finds herself staring because this one is far larger than any she has seen in person before and how can you not admire the power in such a majestic creature? From where she stands she can notice other creatures changing their course when they spot the dragon. It seems an ideal place to rest for a few minutes... as long as she does not draw too much attention to herself. ]
[ grumbling ]
[ Whatever charm there was in the welcome initially given by the Fae has worn off. They are no better than the nobles of the Orlesian court, condescending and self-important. There are questions she would like to ask, if only they had interest in real conversation.
Clearly exasperated with her latest attempt, she rolls her eyes and turns back toward the beach, barely pausing when she nearly runs into someone in her path. ]
I am not cute.
[ The least of her worries, perhaps, but what a ridiculous thing for someone to say to her. ]
[ wildcard - bring your own! ]
[ I match format! personal pref is prose so if that's your pref too don't hold back for my sake. hmu via pm or gratuitousmagic @ plurk if you'd like something more specific! ]
grumbling; lmk if this is okay! i'm so sorry for him
Nope. Because you're gorgeous.
[ he'll flash her a grin and even does fingerguns, too, to make it extra cheesy. the fingerguns are kind of awkwardly posed though since his fingers are webbed, but the effort is still there. pay no mind to this dumb boy, or feel free to shut him up. ]
lol I'd expect nothing less
Well. In her opinion, he is closer to the mark than the Fae were and the fact that he is not a Fae keeps her from dismissing him immediately. ]
So I have heard.
[ But the webbing between his fingers is more interesting than the compliment. She nods slightly, toward his hands. ]
Is this a new development for you?
no subject
Uh, yeah, actually. Just got these today.
[ he looks at them, too, before he points towards his forearm. currently it's covered by his armor. ]
I felt something here, too. They seemed like scales? It's like I'm turning into a...sea monster or something.
no subject
You seem remarkably calm about turning into a sea monster. Has it long been a dream of yours?
[ Fine, she may be teasing a bit. Her displeasure with the Fae is definitely not forgotten and his initial response to her makes her think she knows his type, but curiosity makes her less grumpy about it all. ]
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[ goodness, lance. at least he laughs; he's only half-serious, after all. sure, being a mermaid would be cool, but for some reason he has the feeling that's not what's happening to him. it's a gut feeling, really, but lance's gut is usually right. ]
In all seriousness, no point in worrying about it when this is aaaall just a weird, weird dream that I'm gonna wake up from sometime soon.
[ ...right? ]
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You have my thanks.
[ Her hair is plastered to her forehead and neck by sweat. Not exactly her finest moment. ]
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She nods her acknowledgment, then tips her head as if to suggest they move with some haste. ]
'Tis probably best not to linger. Are you injured?
no subject
[ Saber's expression remains composed, although there's a flicker of irritation as she sheathes her sword. ]
I am called Saber. Yourself?
no subject
An unusual name, in her experience. ]
I am Morrigan. Are you familiar with this place?
[ It would not be accurate to say she is eager for company but she would like to have a better idea of where she is. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
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rumbling 1
So Zelda hadn't thought much of approaching the plant to inspect it. Perhaps it would bear an interesting property. Something that could be useful out here in the wild, where danger was constantly afoot... And then danger simply fell into her lap. It's lucky that this ice sorceress finds her, shattering the thing and forcing it to retreat. It seems all too easy for her, to boot. Zelda would be envious, if she weren't still horrified by the fact she were nearly eaten alive.
She falls to the ground, unceremoniously, her back colliding with the dirt. The royal tunic she wears is surely nearly unrecognizable. ]
... Elixirs.
[ Zelda sounds breathless, staring up into that sky with wide, green eyes. She seems as if she might still need to come down from the shock of it all. ] I had thought that it might have properties worth recording, should it be used in an elixir.
no subject
And the would-be victim is slow to rise from the ground, so Morrigan (perhaps somewhat reluctantly) steps closer and offers one hand to help her up... but only after first glancing around for similar plants lurking in the immediate vicinity. She will not let kindness be her downfall. ]
A worthwhile thought. [ And a cause that interests her personally. ] Large man-eating plants were not so high on my list of expected threats.
no subject
A creature's parts— guts, horns, tails... whatever you might acquire on the journey, it can be used with some herbs to some interesting effect.
[ Dusting herself off, she tilts her head. ] I thought perhaps it would be worth it to test it out. You never know what one might yield.
no subject
[ After a moment, though, she adds what seems a bit more important, under the circumstances: ]
This place is unfamiliar to you as well?
(no subject)
grumbling
Neither am I. And yet, here we are, endlessly belittled.
no subject
But misery does like company. ]
What is the point? [ She is absolutely positive that she can have a better dreams than this. ] The jungle was almost more hospitable.
no subject
What other point of patronizing is there, than to flaunt their supposed superiority? Their hubris is in no short supply.
[His eyes flicker over to other humans, the ones laboring in the oppressive heat with collars about their necks. Hubert's anger touches nothing in his features but his eyes, but they burn deeply with it.]
Had we no talent with magic, I'm sure the graceless things would want us among their numbers. No, the jungle was certainly more hospitable.
no subject
It has not happened. ]
Then perhaps it is back to the jungle we should go.
[ Less an invitation than musing aloud. ]
(no subject)
rumbling 1; HI FRIEND
He's surprisingly calm and calculating about the whole hopeless affair--it is a dream, after all. He'd just wake up if he died, not that that makes the experience of dying any more pleasant. He'd really take any opportunity he got to get out--
Which means the instant he feels the plant's vines frost over and loosen from shock, he surges to his feet, wrenching loose with every scrap of strength he can muster...and toppling over ingloriously right in front of his rescuer. Oof. At least he's not choking now. (Half elf, half snowy deer, and completely trussed up in vines, he probably resembles some demented human artist's idea of Ghilan'nain turning into a halla. Not the first impression he'd want to make.)
"Ordinarily," he says wryly, to her quip. "Though if you're implying I got into that fix through amorous intentions, I'm not that kind of Faun. Thank you, serah."
HELLO!
But his response makes her crook a smile despite herself. "And what kind of Faun are you then?"
A valid question, she thinks, not being in any particular habit of dreaming of elves turning into Fauns.
Had he not fallen directly in front of her she would be less likely to offer a hand, but as things are she does lean forward and do so after a moment, almost an afterthought.
no subject
"One who's very far from home," is his rueful reply to the question, "as I'm afraid you'll be if you've showed up here, since you don't look native." Though she does look...a little familiar for some reason he can't even begin to place yet. Now that he's on his hooves again, he takes a moment to study her through slot-pupiled eyes. That is...a very distracting outfit, and he's quick to busy himself with peeling dying vines out of his antlers when he realizes he's begun to stare.
Faun instincts are a trip. Time to hurriedly clarify his cryptic statement!
"The Fade--sorry, uh, the realm of dreams we're in now--only tends to pick new folk up if they're slated to fall through a mirror sometime, so you might avoid your reflection a while when you wake up."
Top marks for clarity, Myrobalan, you idiot.
no subject
Regardless, a small audible huff of laughter slips out of her as he studies her. She is accustomed to stares, whatever the reason behind them, and his reference to the Fade seems equally normal to her... even though the rest feels a bit like a riddle.
She tips her head, half amusement and half bemusement, and idly wipes at the sweat-slick back of her neck. "Sometimes I step quite voluntarily through magical mirrors. Does that count?"
(no subject)
grumbling
No one said you were. [Or at least he hadn't heard anyone say that.]
no subject
But it is somewhat distracted by the dramatic spread of his wings. She takes an abrupt step back, recenters, and points herself to move past him. The quick appraisal she gives everyone upon first meeting them is admittedly a bit longer in this case. ]
Perhaps you should not make assumptions about things you were not present for.
[ It irritated to be called cute in the first place and now it irritates that this strange winged elf tries to tell her that no one said such a thing. ]
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He raises an eyebrow at her response and glances around.]
You were speaking, I assumed it was to me, requiring me to make quite a few assumptions. [His tone was more than a little dry, unamused at being spoken to and then chided.] If I interrupted your one-sided conversation, I apologize.