dagung | TDM: January

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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

i. welcome to the jungle

[It's not that the forest itself is something that's particularly strange for Qrow; places like the Wilde are a Huntsman's backyard. Untamed, overgrown, full of dangerous creatures. But the scale of everything still manages to flummox Qrow, who feels rather like he's somehow missed a shrink ray getting turned in reverse somewhere.

He's shaken out of his musing by the sudden apparent earthquake which turns out to be a couple of prehistoric Faun running past, ignoring his tiny ass even as he falls right on it, super gracefully, as one does.]

Ooooookay, then. That happened.

[He rubs at his face--just how much did he have to drink last night? He is going to have such a hangover tomorrow, ugh.]

ii. oh the humanity

[Ahhhh civilization. Not that Qrow is unused to or unskilled at camping, but it's always nice to come across a village. Find an inn, grab a drink, a nice bed (sleeping in a dream? that's weird, right?), pick up the chatter of the locals and maybe anything serving staff might let slip in friendly conversation.

....The best laid plans. Once he approaches close enough, it's pretty clear that there is definitely not going to be any creature comforts in this place, and what's more, the people are not exactly, uh, eager to entertain. Harbinger outstrips any of those crude weapons, of course, but that doesn't mean they wouldn't hurt, especially when he can't feel his Aura in this weird lucid dreaming state, so he doesn't make any sudden moves. He does, however, turn to his neighbor with a sardonic twist of his lips, letting his shoulders lift and fall in an overdramatic shrug.]

Quite the welcoming committee we got here, huh?

iii. what big (tiny) teeth you have

[Well, this place is just a mess, isn't it. All that complaining about Fae sounded awfully familiar, especially with those kids that seemed to never want to make eye contact with anyone for very long, and now here's an encampment that seems like it could be torn right out of the White Fang's playbook, if they'd ever gotten that far.

He mostly just observes all this with increasing levels of distaste, until a little kid comes to serve him a clearly alcoholic drink of some kind and you know what, he's done playing nice. It's time to get into some trouble. He scans around to make eye contact with the first non-Fae nearby.]

What's with the little brat? That's kind of scraping the bottom of the barrel for supposedly powerful magic users, don't you think? [A slow, deliberate smirk] Unless they're not as strong as they want us to think.

Edited 2020-01-18 01:19 (UTC)

[Although it has been some time since one of these dreams occurred, they still seem to be continuing with their trend of getting stranger and stranger with each passing dream. (Even if this is an accurate reflection of what the land once was, there's really nothing that could prepare you for the size of, well, everything in this jungle.) Ozymandias, not too far from Qrow, watches the Faun as they gallop without so much as a glance in their direction, but manages to keep his balance by place a hand on a nearby tree. He glances over at Qrow when the movement in his peripheral catches his attention, but he says nothing. Although fading, the rumbles would make it difficult to be heard and Ozymandias is actually listening to be sure they are truly fading and something else is not on the approach.]

[When it seems the Faun are merely on the move without a pursuer, he then looks over to the stranger.]

I would advise grabbing onto something next time.

[Honestly, Qrow's a little offended. Not at Ozymandias specifically; it's more of the generic kind of offense when something embarrassing happened, and someone had the audacity to both witness it and draw attention to the fact that they did. How very dare!!! The only appropriate response, of course, is to show grace and humility and maturity--by which I mean he rolls his eyes, like an adult.]

Thanks for the tip.

[Dry like the desert. But Qrow blows right past that because okay, he could buy himself being drunk enough to invent a bizarre giant forest with even more bizarre animals and no Grimm in his dreams, but people?]

Who are you, anyway? I don't usually have dreams about random strangers. [And then he grins, shittily.] But maybe you made an impression.

[Ozymandias remains relatively unruffled by the dryness of Qrow's response to genuine advice. If he chooses to ignore or neglect it, then that falls onto him as far as Ozymandias is concerned.]

If we had met, you would remember.

[Despite the implication, it doesn't sound particularly haughty. He might as well be declaring the sky blue and grass green for how matter-of-fact he sounds. And that is because while Ozymandias does not always remember every individual he meets, he's the sort of person who truly does leave a very strong impression whether by virtue of personality or titles and station.]

I am the third king of the Nineteenth Dynasty of Egypt, the God-King of the Sun, and King of Kings, Pharaoh Ozymandias.

[Can one declare themselves the King of Kings and not sound arrogant? If that's even remotely possible, Ozymandias clearly hasn't found a way yet. He speaks of himself now with notable pride, and the confidence in his posture seems to only increase tenfold.]

And you are?

[That....is a very long set of titles, sir. Qrow lets out a low whistle as the guy rattles them off, then shrugs faintly when the question is turned back on him.]

Qrow. Just Qrow.

[Of the Branwen tribe, if he had to be particular about it, but a) he doesn't care to be because fuck those guys and b) it's funnier this way.

He allows for a significant pause, and then:]

Sooooo, what's an Egypt?

[:3c]

[Ozymandias thinks nothing of the exclusion of a surname, it's more the emphasis that catches Ozymandias' attention. That's someone trying to distance themselves. As for Qrow's question? Well, that doesn't actually bother him much! He's run into enough people from worlds where he and his people didn't exist that he can only assume that to be true for Qrow.]

Egypt is the modern name of the land I once ruled over.

Never heard of it.

[Dreams! Are weird! He's kind of getting tired of this one, honestly, because usually he doesn't feel so aware of the dreamlike...ness of them until he's actually awake. He frowns mildly, vaguely irritated that he can't even tease whatever this figment of his imagination is.]

I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess you haven't heard of Remnant, either. That about right?

[Ozymandias shakes his head, confirming that he has never heard of such land before.]

We are from vastly different worlds, it would seem.

[Hm. He considers this for a moment, hand on his hip.]

So questioning dream logic might be a little ridiculous here, but I'm getting the distinct vibe that this isn't as weird for you as it is for me.

[He can't help it; old instincts are yelling at him that there's something more going on here. Maybe he'll just wake up sprawled on the floor of some bar in Mistral and shrug about this later, but he might as well gather what information he can in the meantime. If this guy suddenly turns pink or bursts into song or something he can give up the effort then.]

[ Yeah, Skyler's had about enough of this shit too. Slavery? He's not one to think too hard about it. After all, it's indeed a thing that happens to other people. As long as he doesn't catch that shit in the teeth, it's no skin off his back.

However, getting asked by a kid if he'd like anything on the menu? He narrows his eyes, watching the younger kids serving the magic bullshit whoever in the fuck they were hand and foot - some literally at their feet - and yeah, he's had about enough of the pretense too.

So he's got that shit humming in the background noise of whatever his brain has cooking up next when he hears the other non-Fae lean over and make his observation. He'll flick his eyes over - just some guy, can't tell if he's invested in any one thing or just wants to start something - and then back ahead, straight forward. ]

Sounds to me like you're planning a party. [ ... ] Why in the fuck would you when we're surrounded? [ Not a judging question, just an incredulous one. ]

["Why in the fuck would you" is a question that has been asked and will be asked of him many times in his life, and the answer is often simple: because he is Qrow Branwen, and he is a horrible ~~goose~~ crow. Being surrounded by Atlas personnel didn't stop him from picking a fight with Winter during the Vytal Festival, and it's not going to stop him from making a scene with these Fae-whatevers, either.

That said, man, this kid doesn't do subtlety, huh. He gives Skyler a bemused look as though the kid's onto some secret he isn't.]

Aren't we already at a party? It's just a shame that the help can't see over the table at the cute, tiny guests they're supposed to be serving. That's got to be pretty embarrassing. Maybe our hosts have fallen on hard times?

[The key, Skyler, is to bait them into attacking you first. Then it was just self-defense when the shotgun rounds go flying! Scouts honor!]

[ Skyler is making a hell of a stankface, dear stranger. He has no idea what he's getting at, and even if he did, he's pretty sure his point still stands. If they get shanked here, they are surrounded and someone else will have to help get them out of there. Skyler isn't counting on anyone but them to actually give a fuck.

But... right, right, subtlety. He glances around to see if the worst of the cooing, condescending fucks have moved right along, then says, in possibly the most neutral voice he can (because he cannot and will not trust himself to act casual): ]

If you're gonna throw a better party than this, you gotta make a better case for yourself. I'm not gonna throw unless you got a better DJ. The music here is balls. [ There. That's an ask along with some provocation. For free, even. ]

[The point, dear disgruntled boy, is to Shittalk until you've made enough of a scene that people are ready to throw you out by force, and then you make that very difficult on them, because you can.

To that end, he makes a very obnoxious show of grabbing the drinks off that child's serving platter after all. All of them. Like, literally all of them. There were at least four or five on there, it looks ridiculous.]

Well, I doubt I could do any worse. You'd think those things on their forehead're supposed to improve their hearing, right? Don't know how they managed to go so wrong from there.

[ He straight up doesn't get it - has to filter that message through his head once, twice, he grabs one of this guy's drinks and sniffs at it before it clicks - ah, he's saying that he just hates the shit out of these guys. Relatable. Still not entirely winning him over, but they're on the same page now at least.

He'll stare right over the lip of the cup, thinking about it. He does have that weird, clicky, nervous energy that started thrumming up as soon as he realized that the kids here probably weren't here by choice, and he never needed much of a reason to just, well, go. It's not like he's entirely opposed to the idea of starting shit. He just needs to know that if they're gonna get fucked up over something that the two of them probably can't change...

He'll take one final sniff, reel back in disgust, and very obviously, deliberately, pour it out on the floor in the direction of their generous patrons. ]

I don't know you, but if you know how to have a better time than these jack-offs, I'm down. You just have to promise me you can get some stronger shit than this garbage. [ He indicates the empty cup before dropping it to his foot, crushing it under his shoe. ] If I'm gonna get fucked up, I want it to be for real.

Don't worry, I wouldn't waste anyone's time with booze this cheap.

[Or like .... let a kid drink in his vicinity, either, but currently that's not the point. He can be the lame adult after they've appropriately completed Stirring Shit and bearing out the consequences for it.

Time to fling all the rest of these drinks over his shoulder, hopefully catching a Fae or two in the process. Come on, he's ready to make a scene already, where is the first person ready to take this bait.]

[ And Skyler may, accidentally on purpose, set the liquor dripping down the table and onto the floor, on fire. Hey, if he's a witch, he is going to take advantage of it.

If Qrow sends him any eye contact, he'll just shrug. The guards are coming. Mission accomplished. ]

That's the only thing it was good for, anyway.

[ Of a feather, as the saying goes. Eileen had a far more mosntrous look about her, the mask and crowfeather garb both hiding and accentuating her nature. The natives were definitely not going to let her into their settlement, and made that deeply clear. Even so... ]

It's safe to rest on the outskirts. [ Eileen turned her shoulder to Qrow, heading towards a stump not far from the edge of the brush, meaning to settle there. ]

Ehh...almost tempted to go back and take my chances with the monsters.

[At least beasts tried to kill you up front the first time and then left or died if they lost. With these guys he's pretty sure he'd find himself looking down the business end of one of those stone billy clubs at some point or another if they got tired of him existing roughly in their vicinity.]

Edited 2020-01-19 11:08 (UTC)

They only want us away from them... That's their right. [ She can't say she wouldn't have done the same in their position, after all. Eileen pulled a canteen from her side as she slumped down, her wings lifting up just slightly to clear the stump and let her back rest before settling back down.

Her mask was moved aside briefly, very briefly, to take a drink from the canteen before settling back into place. She offered it towards Qrow. ]

For lack of anything better. It's just water.

Ooh, very tactical thinking!

[Suffice it to say that Beatrice is disgruntled. If anyone is going to be condescending, rude, and manipulative in this situation, by rights it ought to be her. That being said, she's already broken the cardinal rule of all Fae-related situations: she's eaten something. Meat, as it happens, rare enough that it was almost still bloody. She's so hungry, for some reason.]

[Being full doesn't stop her from being sulky. Or condescending, either. Should she be even ruder to declare to the Fae that they don't have exclusive rights to shitty behavior? Maybe!]

Or they don't care about proving to you that they're strong one way or the other. They don't care about you. Why would they?

[They certainly don't care about any of them. They're entertainment, at best. At worst, candidates to become like the unfortunate fellows these guys have on retainer, pressed into service against their will. But Qrow isn't here to have a frank discussion about their relative value to their esteemed hosts right now; he is here to Stir Some Shit. Minimum goals: piss off everyone within a fifteen foot radius that doesn't join him in said shitstirring, so. Two can play at the condescension game.]

I don't know about you, but where I come from, when we entertain guests, we at least try to make a good impression. This is just embarrassing.

[ Rin's used to being dwarfed by the landscape around her – when she creates, she likes to create huge, sprawling vistas that leave her tiny and almost insignificant in comparison. It's just more fun that way. There's more room to breathe.

That's not the case here by a long stretch. Everything's so huge, but it's all crammed in every which way and instead of leaving room to breathe it feels claustrophobic, like it wants to steal all the breath from your lungs with the awful heat. Between all the rumblings and the creatures darting around, that doesn't seem like it'd be a hard task.

She's picking her way through the undergrowth when everything begins to shake again and as she's learned to do, she steadies herself against the trunk of a nearby tree to keep upright. But then as the dust settles afterwards, she hears, for the first time, a voice other than her own in the trees and without thinking, she calls out to it. ]

Hello? Is somebody else there?

[Lan Xichen is much more of a sympathetic heart than sarcastic observer, but he still takes in the village and its people with the same attention Qrow is giving their reluctant hosts. He's been polite and reserved, managing mostly to avoid the dirty looks and dark remarks simply by being so courteous. He does nod at the comment, however. The village they have found is wary, possibly ready to be hostile at any given moment when it comes to outsiders.]

Indeed. These people are frightened. I wonder how long this village has been here?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

TDM: January

Qrow Branwen | RWBY | Vampire

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