dagung | TDM: May

Entry tags:

* tdm

TDM: May

Test Drive: May

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 on up June 1st. The application page can be found here.
• 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!
• While current players won't be allowed to post top levels on the test drive itself, feel free to reference or play with the dreams in-game.
• 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 Eternal Fall

The smell of autumn leaves surrounds you, a myriad of colors sparkling into existence at the same time. Despite the warmth and light, the air feels heavy and stiff, as if on razor's edge. The forest is eerily silent - not a bird, bug, or rodent dares to stir - and when you do hear something, it's the high-pitched crying, whining, weeping, sobbing, howling sounds of something far off. The tunnel of bent branches invites you further with an unpleasant compulsion; though fighting it and turning around finds you in front of a chilly, damp cave alight with the faint, cool glow of bubbling fountains and streams.

The Compulsion
Unable to sway yourself from the call of the forest - or maybe you're simply curious as to where it leads - your feet pull you further and further into the autumnal tunnel. The cry from before grows more distant, but in return, the air weighs even heavier on your shoulders than before. The branches hang lower and lower as well, as if pushed by gravity, until their leaves smack your face, twigs offering small cuts from the thorns protruding from their bark.

But you can't stop. Not now. The end of the tunnel seems so close; but it's seemed that way for a while now, you suppose, and you've already come this far - you might as well stay the course, wherever it might lead.

The further you go, the brighter everything becomes, and you realize it's the leaves surrounding you; they've begun to glow, encouraged by the sunlight streaming in from above, and the wind begins to whisper in your ear. At first, it's only encouraging things, or silly facts - harmless words, but as the foliage begins to shimmer and reflect your image, the wind's words turn colder. Within those reflections on the autumn tunnel, you begin to see your worst moments - morally, ethically, emotionally. The things you don't want anyone else to know, that you'd feel ashamed or struck for anyone - especially those close to you - to see. The wind becomes louder as the scenes play out one right after another, boldly declaring your true feelings as they were in that moment, good or bad.

Worst of all - you still can't bring yourself to turn back, even as your mind begins to free itself from the tunnel's compulsion. Maybe someone else can help out, if they're not too taken by their own memories, or maybe the shock of sharing such private secrets will jolt you and anyone else back to reality. Either way, it's that, or staying stuck watching your worst memories play on repeat for what feels like the rest of your life.

The Cry
While not compelled by any means, you still feel a curious draw down the path in front of you; as you follow the leaf tunnel, with others or alone, you find another, less-traveled path. Following it reveals a large pond colored orange and gold by the reflection of the area it's in, sunlight and shadows playing on its surface. At a glance, it seems to be rather shallow, but that's hardly the truth.

You realize, after a moment, that the crying has continued, evidently coming from the water. Looking closer, the culprit is an infected Merrow, who - upon begin seen - shrieks and dives for whoever's looking at it with the clear intent to drag them down beneath the water. Its claws are extra sharp, its teeth similar to a shark in number and shape, and its scales have turned a pale black; an oil-like substance flows from beneath them and from its gums as well, shimmering the same way gasoline does in the light, and its eyes are the tell-tale white of a Shade.

It isn't impossible to fight it to get away, especially as some of you have new abilities at hand, and some of you have a few neat changes to help that along. Once distance is successfully put between you and the infected Merrow, it howls in a wet, warbly voice, visibly frustrated. Unlike ordinary Merrows, who can walk on land and have legs as long as they stay dry, this Merrow can't seem leave its pond at all, and electricity sparks from it like little static shocks in its irritation. It does dive back under once it realizes it can't reach you, resurfacing as your character's most important person in an attempt to lure them back. The expressions are far too real, too genuine; even those aware it's a Merrow might be fooled. While its voice isn't a perfect mimicry, the song it begins to sing has with it notes of yearning and beckoning to join it, join your beloved person, in the water.

The Cave
Pulling yourself from curiosity or compulsion, the cave behind you - in front of you, if you've turned around - gives off an oddly pure feeling. Like an oasis in a desert, it feels refreshing and calm; incredibly safe, compared to the eerie call of the forest it's in. Within the cave are pools of water that glow and glimmer from the magic runes found around them. The runes shift similar to a mirage whenever you try to focus on them; and try as you might, you can't glimpse what they say exactly.

It isn't so hard to figure out though, as the pools of water surrounded by them have a pleasingly cold temperature, while those without them are near scalding. A few of the latter have runes around them, but they're not glowing like the rest - feeding a little magic into them changes this immediately, and steam rises in a sudden blast as the water cools rapidly. The opposite can be done for the colder pools too - taking their magic somehow or ruining the runes will make them bubble and boil as they surge in temperature.

But that isn't all the cave has to offer. Moving further inward, you get the feeling you're going down - beneath the ground and the enchanting forest. Eventually, the cave widens out to a massive underground lake, multiple waterfalls pouring into it; despite their number and size, the room is completely silent. All tunnels seem to lead to this one room, with a few of them looking more man-made than natural. Traversing other tunnels leads you into a maze that only ever brings you to the lake, or to the cave's entrance, no matter how many different paths you take.

Something different happens eventually though; signs of life begin to appear, or at least signs that life once lived there. Leather pouches rotted by the dampness of the cave hang on sharp nails beaten into the cave walls, with boots in similar condition strewn here and there. Torn, soaking clothing lays in piles in the tunnels, and candles burnt down to their wick's end stand in shelves carved from the navy blue and black stone. There's broken toys and books too waterlogged to read, instruments with snapped strings or clogged holes, and - most peculiarly - smooth, round devices that heavily resemble large pocketwatches or hand mirrors. They refuse to turn on though, either due to age or due to the wetness of the air.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Berserker stares at the young woman. Was she talking to him...? Not that it particularly mattered. Her irritation isn't a usual reaction, either. With a slight cock of his head, he speaks. ]

What are you telling to go away? It wants you in the water, so it's going to find a way to draw you in.

It tried before. It's not going to happen again.

[She hasn't looked at him just yet. She's still rather annoyed at the creature. She could feel her foot go forward, before she resolutely planted it backward.

Nope. She refused.]

It wasn't very good at it either. Perhaps if I had a knife...

[Her frown deepens. It'd be better for her to go, but she doesn't want to.]

Do you have a weapon? I'll only borrow it to kill it, and give it back.

[She hasn't glanced up at Beserker. Not yet. His voice sounds...oddly familiar, but she can't place it.]

[ Her determination is admirable, really. Berserker's interest is piqued, perhaps she could be useful. At the question, he huffs. ]

I have a weapon, but I don't let anyone borrow it...but if you want me to, I can take care of it.

[ It's a courtesy he offers, nothing more. He knows he's good at killing and would probably have an easier time doing it than this frail-looking woman before him. ]

[She sighs at first, thinking that she's back to where she's started but-the offer has her glance up at him. She blinks for a moment, taken aback but...

Her startled expression vanishes after a few moments, retreating back to a cool neutrality.]

Please do.

[Her gaze goes back at the creature.]

I'd take care of it myself, but I was foolish.

[And annoyed. She still needs to adjust.]

[ He thinks nothing of the briefly startled expression -- he knows he's intimidating, that must have been the cause of it. Berserker takes a step forward, the barbed red spear in hand. ]

Fine.

[ The killing blow on the wounded creature is brutally efficient. A single thrust into the water, a brief cry, then silence. He takes a step back once the task is done, no emotion showing on his face once again. ]

Would you have stood there forever if someone hadn't offered to kill it?

[He's rather large and imposing, that is true. But...well. She wasn't going to say anything. There wasn't really a point.

Speaking of, when his spear struck home, and the song died, Caren's body relaxed. She hadn't realized how tense she'd become in her irritation.]

Until I found a weapon of my own or borrowed one, yes.

[She glanced up, raising one eyebrow. Startled as she might have been one point, she got over it quickly.]

I wouldn't have let myself be lured in.

[She seems certain of it too. She's just that stubborn.]

You say that, but you're only human. It probably would've gotten annoyed and tried to drag you under the hard way.

[ Starving, mad creatures are determined, after all. He lowers his spear back to his side and looks more closely at Caren now. ]

You're stubborn, though...I will give you that much. What's your name?

[ Not that he particularly cared, he just wants something to call her, lest that stubbornness be turned on him. ]

It would have had to crawl. I might have found a rock, or I could have screamed for help, if I thought it would be useful.

[And likely she would have been swayed one way or another by seeing Avenger, eventually. But who knows, it might have taken awhile. She was stubborn enough to try.]

Caren. Caren Ortensia. And you? What do you like to be called?

Hm...If you say so.

[ Pointlessly stubborn, in his mind. No matter, though -- it was her decision, after all. It was all a moot point since the situation had been resolved, so there's no sense in him continuing to think on it. ]

You can call me Berserker.

[She huffs at him, but she doesn't refute it. She is stubborn to a fault when it suited her at least.]

Beserker...I see. Beserker, would you like to accompany me?

[Not that she's sure that he likes anything.]

We're going the same way. It'd be annoying, I'm sure, if it looked as if I was following you.

[ He doesn't like or care for anything, but it is easier if he accompanies her. He has no reason or want to protect her, but from a practical sense, it's more convenient. ]

Like to...no, I don't like to do anything. But I will come along. It's easier that way. [ A beat. ] You should find a weapon in case I decide to take a different path. I won't help you without good reason again.

[At least if they're together, they don't have to talk. And moreover...well, maybe someone loud doesn't have to linger in either of their company.

It's comfortable, practical reasoning.]

Very well.

[She bows her head briefly, before she starts walking. Away from the corpse, and back to the path.]

I do a replacement weapon. Maybe I'll find a rock, or a heavy branch. My usual weapon has been rendered inert and useless.

[ Practical is good. This young woman is quiet, at least, and doesn't speak unnecessarily. He can respect that. Plus, if need be, she can be used as bait. It's a terrible thought, but he's a terrible person.

He heads back towards the path a few steps behind her. ]

Do you really want to carry either of those things? [ A question of practicality, not of her ability. She appears to be human, after all, and they get tired rather easily. ] ...And what is your usual weapon?

[He's surprisingly quiet too. And he has a way of filling the space around him. Not with brightness and energy nor of outright malice but...

She's reminded in his presence that she's speaking with a predator.]

I'd be better off with either one or the other. If I had a long enough stick, I could have beaten it to death at a distance.

[Her shoulders lift in a shrug. She doesn't look back as she keeps talking. It's not so much she's not afraid, but she's accepted the idea that she may be killed.]

I have a length of fabric. A magic crest, that could strike, strangle, and bind the enemy.

It hasn't worked since my arrival. But perhaps it's for the best-else it would have become tainted and unusable thereafter.

[And that'd be a pity. It had been so useful since she had been gifted it. And, too, it was one of the only things she arrived with.]

I'll keep an eye out for something you can use, then.

[ It's not an unfair of unfitting comparison. He has more in common with a predator than anything else -- a finely honed killer instinct and a harsh, finite judgement on who deserves to live and die.

"Magic Crest"...That word catches his attention. He doesn't concern himself with mage business, usually, but it's something he's overheard before. Interesting... ]

Are you a mage, then?

Thank you.

[She's glad for the help. Really, while he is a killer, he's not completely indecent.

Not that she'd tell him that. He'd have to prove that he was, somehow, and she'd likely end up dead without a weapon. Very impractical.]

At home? No. My abilities lie elsewhere.

[She shook her head.]

But it chose me, so I was able to use it. It wouldn't function for anyone else.

[ Chose her? It was just an object, wasn't it? Strange. Once she said she isn't a mage, he almost entirely lost interest. Maybe he's mistaken and she's not someone who knows about Servants. That's fine. It suits him better that way, really. ]

Ah, is that so? How can a cloth "choose" someone?

[The misunderstanding was funny, really. But it might be cleared up, one way or the other if they kept talking.]

I'm not quite sure. The Church could have said it was a blessing from God but...I assume it was far more mundane. Perhaps it was need? Or compatibility? I don't understand magic well enough to guess.

[ Now none of this he's familiar with. Dealing with humans isn't something he did, if only because there wasn't a whole lot of humanity left to deal with. The Master and, to an extent, Mash were the only two humans he came into contact with on a regular basis. ]

I didn't think weapons could choose their owner...Strange. My Master is a mage, but an unskillled one. I doubt they'd know...Not that my Master is here, anyway.

[ This is an odd dream, nothing more. ]

[It was going to be a shock to the system. There might be more people here then he was used to dealing with. Not that she was much better, considering that she tended to be isolated, meeting with the same people on her own terms. ]

I didn't either, until it chose me. And, too, if your Master is an unskilled mage...it's difficult to know if they'd have the background.

[She shrugged, thin shoulders coming up, then dropping.]

I'm surprised. I would have thought you would have killed someone claiming to be your Master.

... so you know of Masters and Servants, then.

[ The Master in Chaldea is only a Master through matter of circumstance, really. If they hadn't been the last surviving candidate, it's unlikely they would've been the one chosen to command so many Servants to restore the foundation of humanity. ]

If I'm summoned by someone, so be it. I'm nothing more than a familiar for them to use. So long as they use me properly, that's all I care. They point me in the direction of the enemy and I take care of the problem.

[ How matter of fact and cold that is. ]

I do.

[She doesn't say how. That'd ruin the fun.]

So long as you're used as a proper weapon then, no problem?

I'd think most would struggle with the idea. Too much compassion and fussing over honor and such.

[ He doesn't particularly care how she knows, just that she knows. It could be trouble for him later, or it may benefit him. It's simply a fact he needs to keep in mind when dealing with Caren. ]

Yeah, that's right. Don't waste time on sentiment, just use me as I'm meant to. It's a pity most Masters hesitate on that. Servants are made to be commanded and are nothing more than familiars...

[They're getting each other's measure. And really-they're not doing too badly, considering how bad it could get.]

Masters can be sentimental. Even when they know Servants are meant for a purpose, they see you, and others with a human face and think...

That you're just like them. It's their mistake.

You'd think that as Mages, they'd know better.

But so many of them don't.

[ Even his own Master tries to treat him as more than what he is. He doesn't begrudge them for it, but it's nothing more than pointless sentimentality. ]

...You would make a good Master for someone like me. A shame you don't have the aptitude.

TDM: May

The Cry

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