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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. |
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[His tone is flat, and with an undercurrent suggesting it's less praise, and more disparaging of those grown fools.]
[Twelve. That's hard for him to gauge. His childhood had already ended by then, already stained with rebellion and his first kill, as had Edelgard's, but they... were not the most normal examples.]
Twelve. I see. [Not really. But...] If you so insist, from here on out, I shall treat you as a grown lady—complete with all the expectations that entails.
[It's a warning. He will not baby you, kid.]
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[She gets distracted from this line of thought as Hubert continues.
The player is terrified by the notion butLeslie actually brightens again. Sure, she recognizes that it is at least partially a warning. Sure, she does secretly wish she "could" be spoiled like a child by her new family and act like she really was their daughter. (Her new family very openly wants to do exactly that at every opportunity, but she thinks they're just being kind.) But she is still happy to have someone who seems as serious as this man does recognize her as an individual who is worth having expectations of.][She wiggles slightly as though she's trying to stand up straighter, but really nothing happens because she's already standing with her back about as straight as it can go.]
Thank you. I will try my best to live up to those expectations, though --
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My name is Leslie -- [oh no, she should probably give her full name, if she's going to be treated as a grown lady. It's rude otherwise. She looks a bit like she's swallowed something unpleasant -- an expression she tries to hide by ducking her head even lower -- and mumbles:] Spe --
[.......nope, she can't do it.] My name is Leslie. It's...good to meet you.
[Well, that's probably a flub, she thinks.]
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[But he started this, so he supposed he had to play along. Hubert shuffles back a step and offers her a prim bow, one arm tucked behind his back and his other hand against his heart.]
And I am Hubert—[normally he would omit his full name here, but given the odd manner she repeated hers...]—von Vestra, Minister of the Imperial Household of the Adrestian Empire, and humble servant to Emperor Edelgard.
[He straightens again, casting a subtle glance over his shoulder at the Fae.] Perhaps we should make elsewhere. I find our hosts to be of... questionable tastes.
[What, with their slave collars and made-to-order gladiator Monsters. Sickening.]
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[But -- oh geez, someone that important? She has no idea what the Adrestian Empire is, but, like she said, she doesn't know much of anything about currently existing nations outside of the Rucardius Empire. It makes sense that there wouldn't be only one empire out in the world. Had she done anything impertinent? She doesn't think so, but she dips the bow on top of the curtsy a little bit lower before she raises her head again, looking flustered.]
[The silent show of her extremely easy to read face continues as he mentions the tastes of their hosts, looking very uneasy. Right, that's what they'd started talking about. The collars.]
You're right, Sir Vestra. [Oops, nobles where she's from have middle names rather than nobiliary particles, so she assumes Von to be his blessed name.] I -- even with all of the dangerous things in the jungle, I felt less uncomfortable there than I do here. I don't know what they're doing, exactly, but it feels...wrong.
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[He gives an amused shake of his head before starting back towards the river. Despite his long legs, his stride is slow, somehow without seeming like he was deliberately slowing for her.]
Oh, but that's a natural feeling. It's unnerving, is it not? To see creatures you're accustomed to being free, treated like beasts of burden? And yet, to these Fae, they seem to see it no differently than we might an ox—to see us that way, had we not a talent for spellcraft.
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I meant it only as a sign of respect. Would Minister Vestra be more appropriate?
[Look, they were talking about horrific colonial behaviour from unknown insectoid creatures, but getting respectful titles right remains important. That said:]
It didn't feel like they had any respect for spellcraft, though. It felt less like they thought we were better than the ones they were treating like beasts, and more like...the difference between a shovel and a window of stained glass. You wouldn't use stained glass as a tool, and you mightn't even think that you own it. But both of them are objects. That was the impression I got from the way they talked.
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If you wish. I have also been addressed as Lord Hubert or Marquis Vestra, if you insist on remaining formal. It truly matters not to me.
[It really didn't. This is the man that has equally responded to "Hubie" and "that Emperor's dog."]
[Oh? She really is a sharp one. He's beginning to become intrigued. Hubert hums thoughtfully, considering her points.] I suppose that isn't untrue. I had not meant it in the context of respect—think of it more as novelty. Mere tricks they had not thought the animals capable of learning. Special, but not better.
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Even though they can speak to us and know we aren't animals.... [A full-body shiver passes over her. It feels so gross.] I wish there was a way to stop them. Even if this is in a dream, they shouldn't be allowed to get away with this.
[She doesn't think about how they're probably still in earshot of the true fae when she says this.]
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[He shakes his head lightly. Hubert does consider whether they're in earshot, but he gleefully has no fucks to give in that regard.]
The insects should be taught the nature of their transgression, but they have numbers—and, essentially soldiers in their gladiators. From what I gathered, the chimeras know nothing else, do not imagine anything else, and I would not be shocked to find them willing to fight for their masters.
No, disrupting or aggressing against their camp is a poor strategic choice at this juncture, and this is but a dream. Perhaps with time on our side we might attempt subterfuge, but that is not a resource of ours.
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It felt like a lot of time has passed in travelling between places, but it's probably still only a single night in actual time. [She hesitates briefly.] What does subterfuge mean?
[She knows transgression from her theology studies, but her official history books of the empire weren't especially interested in presenting the empire either using or being victim of underhanded tactics in its glorious past.]
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[He could provide examples, or more simplistic definitions, but Hubert was curious to see if this sharp girl had any mind for strategy.]
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Secret things, done to affect something you want to change, with words or with violence....
[She tilts her head, considering her shortened version, but it's only a few seconds later when she answers at a more normal volume.]
Like when you pay a servant to give you information about the family they're serving, or when you spread rumours that someone with testimony that contradicts your lie is sickly and weak-willed. ...Oh, but that wouldn't work for these people, who don't care about what others think of them. With soldiers, um...is it like when you wait until most of the people guarding a location have left on other business and you outnumber whoever is left behind?
[It clearly took both time and effort to work through the definition Hubert gave, but the examples come almost immediately. Rather than trying to come up with new examples from her imagination, she merely compared the definition to things she's witnessed or heard of Marquess Sperado doing and chose the ones that seemed to fit the idea most closely. She would have struggled much more to try to invent new methods, as she is herself a very open and direct person much of the time.]
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Precisely.
[And since Leslie took time to mull it over, they're far enough away to not be heard at this point, and only because of that does Hubert elaborate.]
And if you were serious about not letting the Fae get away with such behavior... As you have well noticed, the Fae only value their own opinions, so attacking them socially would be ineffective. Perhaps they could be turned on one another, somehow, but it would prove difficult.
Stealth is an option, and likely necessary, but cannot be relied upon alone; chimeras—their bestial gladiators—often have sharper senses than humans, and great care would be needed to not be detected immediately. I would suggest poison... of a sort.
[In this dream, the belongings most often on his person seemed to have come with him, and with a little slight of hand, produces a small pouch in his gloved palm.]
Something you may not be aware of is that the Fae are horribly allergic to iron. This is ferrous powder—iron dust, if you will. It's far too heavy to be added to liquids, but there's a number of other ways it could be utilized.
[And oh boy, does he have ideas.]
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The examples she gave were from Marquess Sperado, the person she hates the most in this world. They're not the kinds of things that Duchess Salvatore, the person she admires most in the world, would do. Marquess Sperado would absolutely resort to poison if it was for his advantage. Duchess Salvatore, almost inhumanly strong and noble....
...Leslie actually doesn't know for certain what the duchess would do. After all, the duchess told her not to worry about what would be involved in taking down the marquess. She doesn't think the duchess would, though. She seems to prefer to take people on directly.
Leslie doesn't say anything right away, though. The feeling in her gut is that this is wrong, but she still takes the time to think about it. After all, there isn't a Duchess Salvatore here, with the strength to fight back against the rulers of this place. There isn't a legal system to judge these Fae who seem to have taken humans as slaves. But she also doesn't know very much about the Fae. What they've done, exactly, how things became this way, and whether some of the Fae are just unable to stop the people responsible for the more reprehensible parts.
And, she realizes, she doesn't fully know what it is that Hubert is suggesting. After almost half a minute of silence, she asks:]
That allergy...what does it do to them? [Is it fatal?]
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I'm not entirely certain, I must admit. I've never witnessed it for myself.
[He idly toys with the pouch of iron, more for effect than any real fidgeting.]
It varies, from account to account, and possibly from Fae to Fae, but underlying commonality is that they seemed to be burned by it, and in some cases weakened. I'm unsure if that means a weakening of their body, or of their magic.
[He tucks the pouch away into a disguised pocket in his coat, and chuckles lowly.]
This is all hypothetical, of course.
writing this to an english cover of drop pop candy is a weird experience
But when it comes to Hubert...she can understand this isn’t the same as Marquess Sperado, as close as their titles may be. Unlike the wholly selfish Marquess Sperado, Marquis Vestra’s thought experiment was directed at stopping an oppression. She doesn’t know if it makes his hypothetical suggestions moral, but she at least doesn’t dislike him for it.
She might not like the idea of the methods, but she also wants to one day become one of the Salvatores, the most important guardians of the empire. Even if she never does anything involving subterfuge in her life, even if she’s not sure if she’ll ever be asked to be one of those guardians, she knows that she will at some point need to be prepared for others doing them to her.
So, clasping her hands in front of her, she bows to him.]
Thank you for explaining it to me, Marquis Vestra. That was very informative.
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[Hubert returns the bow politely, the motion devoid of warmth.]
You asked, and I merely answered. That's all. What courses of action you do or do not take are entirely yours.
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[Leslie is confident in her ability to recognize when someone is a danger to her by her finely honed senses when it came to anger and hatred. One day, she might learn how dangerous someone can be without caring about her at all, but, luckily, for today, she's still correct in thinking he doesn't mean her harm.]
You didn't have to answer, though. It's not like you were hired to tutor me. You took your time to introduce it to me, a stranger. Even if you think it's nothing special, I'm still grateful.
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[In a very non-hypothetical sense.]
[She's clearly uncomfortable, but driven by an intense curiosity. The back-and-forth was interesting to watch, as one won out over the other, then subsequently gave way, back and forth.]
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Are these the kinds of situations where you became well-versed on the subject? Where someone is using their strength to hurt other people?
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[Hubert vigilantly turns his gaze to their surroundings as he talks.]
Some learn the art out of necessity; perhaps they lack strength of body and cannot engage others directly, so they must learn to outwit their foes as a means of survival. [Like a child might against bigger people, nudge nudge.] Some are purely opportunistic, striking any flash of weakness they see. Others yet are preemptive, seeking to hinder or stop their opponent before they can enact something of their own.
[He shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips.] Some seek to harm, steal, or cheat. Some seek to protect, to punish those the law cannot, or rebel. There are myriad situations and reasons. Necessity, circumstance, duty, legacy—all possibilities, and still more.
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That’s an uncomfortable thought right now, though.]
I know why some people do it. At least, I know why one person does it. I was hoping you’d tell me why you do it. Unless you mean you do it for all those reasons.
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[After a contemplative moment, Hubert speaks, the quality of his voice subtly changed. Softer wasn't the right word for it, but it was close; his words were tinged with something halfway between thoughtful and proud, but not quite those, either.]
Necessity. Duty. Legacy. House Vestra has served House Hresvelg since the dawn of the Empire, as the Imperial Family's right hand and guardians in the shadows. But beyond that, I serve something greater than a mere legacy—I, as an individual, serve something greater than myself. It is a hope, a grander future, an ideal Her Majesty marches along a path to create.
I will not pretend I do not do cruel things. It's to protect Adrestia and her Emperor, and that greater future Her Majesty is on the cusp of realizing that I employ spies, bribes, and assassins—so that the corruption that has rotted and abused our society be purged with extreme prejudice.
I wage the war that the Emperor cannot acknowledge, and stain my hands so that hers might remain unsullied—so that she may soar above the conflict as every true leader should, as a virtuous ideal the people can believe in.
I shall protect these things I hold dear by any means necessary, irregardless of what history or others perceive of me. Such a cause is above the worth of any one man.
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[But, as a big philosophy nerd, there's also a part of her that is a little intrigued by this view of the world.]
...You had to make a lot of hard decisions, didn't you?
[It's hard to keep eye contact with him, but she forces herself to keep looking him in the face.]
I know you don't care about what other people think about you, but I feel better knowing you've thought about it this much. I hope I'll never be in a place where I have to make decisions like that, though.
[Well, irregardless of how others perceive him and not caring what other people think isn't exactly the same thing, but it does provide her an out from having to give a firm opinion on what he's talked about.]
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