dagung | TDM: January

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* 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

Right.

[ he spins his makeshift spear into a more ready stance. not that a stick is gonna do much good about things large enough to make the ground shake. ]

There's a place we can hide a little ways that way, if you can keep your extra limbs in check.

Yes, I can keep them in check, [ he snipes back testily, even as said limbs lunge for a nearby mosquito and jerk him off balance. ] Maybe. Listen, less judging, more walking.

[ Stiles crowds Derek, trying to hustle him into movement. Which, given the difference in their builds, is about as effective as Stiles trying to shoo a boulder. ]

C’mon, lead the way.

[ nice try, stiles, but all that crowding gets is an eyeroll before derek's moving through the foliage. a little ways away, there's a small hollow between two plants, mostly covered by giant leaves that derek motions toward. ]

You first.

[ Hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, Stiles follows closely on Derek’s heels, helpless but to cast a glance over his shoulder every now and then. Even if this is a dream, he can feel sensation – and he very much does not want to meet whatever hungry creature is on the prowl. When they arrive at the hollow, he shoots it a dubious look. ]

If something bites me, I swear to god…

[ Warning aired, he creeps closer to the hollow and then slowly eases inside. His spider limbs immediately take to scoping the space, feeling out the edges and reassuring him that there’s nothing lurking inside. With a small sigh of relief, he shuffles aside to make room for the werewolf. ]

Aw, Derek, did you dig out this little den yourself? It’s cozy. Gotta say though, I prefer the loft.

[ derek ducks into the hollow and the look he gives stiles is just. flat. so very, very flat and unimpressed. ]

Keep your voice down. Whatever's out there might not be able to easily get us in here, but that doesn't mean we want to draw them here.

[ he's kind of banking on the idea that, if something does catch their scent, they'll be too small and annoying to really bother with. mostly because otherwise they're fucked.

taking a moment to peek through the leaves covering the entrance to their hidey-hole, derek growls softly in annoyance at this whole situation. only it sounds a lot less impressive without the supernatural vocal cords to back it up. ]

[ A fair point, which Stiles acknowledges by making a “lips zipped” motion with his fingers. They both know that won’t last long, though. In fact, it lasts until Derek growls. Eyebrows disappearing into his hairline, Stiles shoots the other man a vaguely concerned look. ]

You alright, buddy? [ At least he’s whispering now. ] No offense, but… That growl kind of lacked your usual oomph.

[ with a quiet sigh, derek slumps back into the hollow. he's not alright, for a whole slew of reasons, but he's more or less keeping it from showing. upsides of having a resting bitchface. ]

I'm human again.

[ it's annoying as fuck. ]

[ It’s about to get more annoying, friend. Stiles, for all his legendary intelligence, does not quite grasp what Derek’s getting at. ]

Yep. I can see that. Full shift wear you out too much or something?

No, not-- [ derek grimaces. ] I meant like after Kate and Mexico the first time. I can't shift at all.

[ while he'd started to get used to it that time, it wasn't exactly permanent. and he'd has access to things like modern weaponry and allies with guns, so there was less of a helpless feeling. ]

Oh.

[ Stiles stares at Derek, not quite sure what to make of this. It’s just a dream, right? So, while it’s inconvenient for their dream-situation, real life Derek is fine. But just in case, Stiles decides to text the man once he wakes up – he really hopes that this isn’t a bad omen. ]

Huh. So, I get these stupid things – [ the spider limbs droop sadly as he jerks a thumb over his shoulder at them ] – and you get de-wolfed. Great. Totally great. I mean, have you seen the things that are out there? It’s like Godzilla meets the Jurassic period.

[ Considering that, Derek probably wouldn't have fared well against them even as a werewolf. Maybe this is for the best. ]

[ derek, because he's occasionally a little shit and stiles is a decent target right now to vent a wee bit of his annoyance, raises an eyebrow all skeptical-like. ]

If this is a dream, what does it matter?

[ yeah, he's still not convinced this isn't real. or at least real to a degree. like someone trapped them both in a shared hallucination or something.

weirder things have happened. ]

Because dreams can become nightmares.

[ The ground continues to tremble beneath the weight of whatever haunts the jungle. Stiles draws as far back into the burrow as possible, arms folded defensively over his chest. He doesn’t meet Derek’s eye. ]

And nightmares scare the shit out of me, Derek.

[ What might have been an obvious statement from anyone else should be a rather pointed one coming from Stiles. He doesn’t give a name to what he’s thinking about, but their shared history will be enough. The Nogitsune. ]

So. Anyway.

[ well. now he feels a little guilty for snapping. and very awkward because being a, you know, nice and reassuring person is something he's still re-learning. ]

Hey. [ derek gently kicks at stiles' foot with his own. ] If it's a nightmare, all it can do is scare you. It sucks, but you'll wake up.

[ he pauses. looks back out through the leaves. ] You're still you.

Oh god.

[ Laughing uncomfortably, he jerks his shoulders in a shrug and shoots Derek an incredulous side glance that, despite the awkward air, is warm and appreciative. ]

Dude, are we having a moment? We’re totally having a moment. Look at us!

[ Stiles is definitely not capable of addressing the issue seriously, so he clumsily moves the conversation along – while hoping that Derek at least knows he’s grateful. Even if he’s an asshole who can’t deal with Talking About It. ]

Bet you never could have imagined this, back when we first met, huh, sour wolf?

[ he scowls, more out of habit than actual annoyance. ]

Any moment that we might've been having ceased to exist the moment you pointed it out.

[ they were absolutely having a moment. but banter is so much easier to deal with than emotions so he's all on board with the moment being over now. ]

You mean back when you were threatening to leave me for dead on the side of the road?

[ he raises an eyebrow as he asks that, but doesn't seem angry about it. ]

[ Oh, do not start that game, mister. He will absolutely one-up you at every turn here. ]

I meant literally when we first met in the preserve, but sure. Let’s bring up the good old days, back when Mr. Big Man on Campus wouldn’t explain anything and was determined to take care of things his way.

[ Stiles peers at Derek with a pointed look. ]

Totally not suspicious at all. And the leather jacket? It’s like you were trying to incriminate yourself as a bad guy.

[ the scowl gets more intense and little... petulant, almost. derek could bring up the fact that if stiles hadn't been a little shit who went looking for half of laura's body none of this would've happened, but. that's maybe going a bit far. and derek's pretty sure that stiles wouldn't do something like that nowadays. at least not for shits and giggles.

as for that last comment of stiles'... ]

The jacket was my dad's.

[ That little tidbit of information visibly piques Stiles’ interest. Even the faintly quaking ground can’t wipe the curiosity from his expression. ]

Huh. That explains the fit.

[ Absently, he finds himself wondering how long the jacket carried Mr. Hale’s scent – and if that scent had brought comfort to Derek in troubled times. Stiles’ feels a swell of affection for Derek. ]

Did he have a motorcycle to go with it? Oh, is that how he – pfft! [ He’s already cracking up before he even says it. ] Is that how he…awooed your mom? Get it? Awooed?

[ that is a terrible pun. absolutely awful. derek kind of loves it, but crinkles his nose as if in distaste anyway. ]

I should throw you to [ the wolves ] Godzilla for that.

[ but in all seriousness-- ]

No motorcycle, but he did have a convertible for a while. He got it after he married my mom. [ so there was no awooing with vehicles. ]

[ It really is a testament to how far their relationship has come that Derek can say something like that and Stiles’ only outward reaction is an unrepentant grin. ]

Ah ha, I’m seeing a pattern here between Hales and their cars. Does Cora have one? She seems like she’d go for something sporty.

[ Stiles mimics flipping sunglasses up and down his face, arm perched on an invisible car door window. ]

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TDM: January

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