dagung | TDM: MARCH

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TDM: MARCH

Test Drive: March

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 character, put one in! This time around, reserves will expire after the first 48 hours of applications being opened. Those first 48 hours will be open to those who have reserves only, so we recommend placing one. It will not guarantee you a spot, but it will guarantee you can post your app immediately when they open.
• Applications Open The 24th! There will be a cap of 30 applications accepted this round, and apps will close whenever we've reached that cap. If there are slots left after the reserves-only period, apps will open to those without reserves. 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!
• 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 Underground

Take a moment. Let your eyes adjust to the dark, your ears to echoing silence, but for the steady drip of condensation down the stone walls that surround you. The tunnels down here are wide, the ceilings high, but they are dim, devoid of sunlight and breeze. The only light, in fact, comes from the shards of softly-glowing shards of quartz lining the ground and the bio-luminescent algae that smears the stone in long, blue veins, pulsing gently, pushing breathable air into the otherwise-stale passageways. The air is damp, but the temperature is moderate - almost comfortable. The tunnels fork off and meander from where you are, some narrowing and some widening, but none seem to lead you to the surface, no matter how long you wander. Is it a trick of the light, that the algae glows a little brighter, pulses a little quicker, when you head in a particular direction? It's hard to sort your senses so deep underground, far from the world above where things make sense. Hopefully you've found a friend by now.

The Crystal Cavern
Many of the tunnels, both wide and narrow, lead to the same place: a massive chamber hewn out of the stone by time, and the drip-drip of water from the ceiling into the central lake. Perhaps you came out toward the bottom, and the ceiling is a thousand feet above you, or maybe you came out toward the top, and the lake is a thousand feet below. There are a hundred or more holes in the sloping stone walls that lead to more tunnels, and something like natural steps down from most of them. In a way, it resembles a beehive, this room acting as a central hub of sorts.

This is also the first place you find signs of life. Short, tough little tufts of grass growing from the thin soil, bone white in color, having long abandoned photosynthesis and chlorophyll. More of the glowing algae. Small, skittering insects - beetles, grubs and worms. The occasional albino rat, much larger and louder than rats have any right to be. Ruffled and capped fungi growing on the wet rock like parasites, some as large as a grown man. Blind, slimy cave fish wriggling around in the still waters of the lake.

And milling around the great stone cavern, slurping up the glowing algae that covers the rocks and grows in lacy sheets across the water, are dozens of great beasts, bigger than horses. Shaped like worms, but with dozens and dozens of stubby, fleshy legs, these creatures are huge, with velvety, multi-colored hides, and though their antennae wave in curiosity when approached, they don't seem aggressive. At least, as long as you avoid the big silk-wrapped bundles stuck to the walls and ground all over the cavern. These are their egg sacs, and if their young are threatened, they'll quickly shoot jets of viscous slime, a quick drying adhesive, that can slow and trap even the strongest adult. If you find yourself in a sticky situation, you better hope someone can wrench you loose - the worms seem content to eat algae, until they've caught prey. Each worm has a long, hooked, chitinous blade concealed within its fleshy jaws to tear and shred, and a nightmarish round mouth full of multiple rows of teeth.

Navigate carefully. There at the bottom of the lake, where it feeds into an underground stream that leads down another wide tunnel, there are a few small rowboats, some missing oars, certainly not enough for everyone. You'll have to share if you want to get out of here. Or you can keep hanging out with the giant wormipedes.

The Procession
As you proceed down the stream by boat, the lighting grows just a little brighter, seeming a little more purposeful in how the glowing algae is planted, how the softly glowing crystals are placed. You start seeing a new type of moss, greyish-green and growing in ragged sheets from the ceiling of the tunnel. Watch your head - it's near impossible to cut through this stuff should you get tangled. For a while, you only hear the soft splashing of the gentle stream, but then... there is a flash of torch light, up ahead.

The boat ahead is longer than the one you use, better kept, and full of people - three Monsters, all whose forms are based on creatures that thrive underground, in pieces of armor, holding spears, and one very elderly Witch woman, seated in the middle, wrinkled hands folded primly in her lap. Her milky gaze stares straight ahead, with something soft and proud in the set of her face. One of the Monsters holds the torch, the other rows the boat, and the third settles down next to her; they speak in hushed voices, with little smiles.

After a while, the rowing Monster slows the boat, before they can bump into a thick, heavy, impenetrable curtain of grayish-green moss that stretches across the whole tunnel, blocking the way, like a gate. The other two help the woman to her feet, and guide her toward the front of the boat - and the curtain of moss. She reaches out for it blindly, and they help her step onto the edge. There is something almost ritual or reverent about the movements, the way they regard the Witch as she touches the curtain of moss... and is wrapped into it quickly, swallowed up, absorbed. After twenty minutes of gentle pulsing, the lump that used to be the Witch is no more, and the whole of the moss pulses with light and magic. The Monsters watch this whole process vigilantly, and once the lights die down, they continue on. The moss parts to allow the boat through, brushing against the Monsters but not swallowing them.

The procession happens a few more times, in separate boats, with separate victims - but all are very, very elderly, and seem proud, even happy to meet their fates. Trying to follow them further after the ritual will have the same thing happen for your boat - the moss will part, and brush over those in the boat without causing harm. If you happen to be infected with the Cwyld, however... you might meet the same fate as the old woman, with the moss reaching and grabbing for you. The procession can be stopped, but drawing attention will draw the ire of the Monster guards, and, strangely, the victims themselves, who will fly into a distressed rage at the interruption.

The Marketplace
Beyond the veil of moss lies... civilization? The cavern is enormous, big enough to contain a city at least as big as Aefenglom, if not larger, though the population at a glance seems to be much smaller. Twenty thousand people, perhaps, give or take. Buildings have been carved out of huge stone spires, or formed by draping cloth around and between the natural stalactites and stalagmites. Monsters tend to be quite tall or bulky, possessing obvious physical strength, while Witches and humans tend to be shorter than in Aefenglom. They all mingle on the streets together, with no immediately obvious class difference. Since there is no weather to dress for, some don't bother to dress at all, though humans at least tend to wear flowy silks or simple clothes made from wormipede hides. The streets are wide and the buildings far-spaced, and many get around on the backs of those worm creatures, having made them saddles and reins.

The stream ends in a lake right next to a marketplace, with many small boats docked on its pebbled shores. The stalls sell all kinds of goods: clothing made from fine silk and worm hide or rat fur, skewered meat (It's bug.), weapons, armor, jewelry made from chunks of beautiful stone. Your arrival is bound to cause a stir though, so keep your head down, and maybe it's time to snatch a disguise from one of the clothing stalls.

Monster guards, occasionally flanked by Witches, patrol the streets and keep the peace, and stopping to talk to anyone will make one thing clear: they are not at all used to outsiders. They won't believe a word you say about being from above ground, and they've never heard of your world or Aefenglom. You're nomads from the tunnels, right? Of course, don't be ridiculous, you can't fool them with tall tales! At least they're usually willing to talk - briefly, of course, everyone is very busy down here, it's morning and many will be heading to tend to the herd soon.

Those who are subtle and pointed in their questions can learn a lot about the vast but also small civilization below the surface of the world. Strength is valued here - the stronger the Monster or more powerful the Witch, the higher their rank in society, and the closer they live to the center, largest spires of stone. Monster-Witch Bonded pairs are the be-all-end-all, and often wear matching wrist-guards or pendants proudly. Pretending to be Bonded to another will put many of the natives at ease, though Monster-Monster pairs get snide comments about how you have to team up to find a good Witch, and Witch-Witch pairs will get odd looks and assume you both have a very strong Monster partner somewhere. It must be quite rare for Witches to go un-bonded here, and any who pass through without an obvious partner may be propositioned by young Monsters showing off their various talents. Unbonded Monsters may be nudged in the direction of any strange, unbonded Witches - usually fellow Mirrorbound - in a poor attempt at matchmaking. Those poor unbonded Witches need protection, right? Or so the locals think.

It's too bad trying to go any farther than the Marketplace will get you stopped by guards and turned back, however. They don't allow nomads into the inner city.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Interesting. She cocks her head at her companion with a curious little look. ]

There are two kinds of people in this world. Witches and monsters. And both need the other - although relations can be fraught.

[ She shrugs. ]

It's just what they call their magic-users.

Oh. Right. I see.

[He has to wonder at it, vaguely. If this is a strange and oddly protracted dream, more vivid than it ought to be...what does it say about his imagination, that witch is the preferred term, here? Old wounds ache, but they don't re-open. He and Asra, the worst of their differences; both of them have moved past them.

Slow and steady, his oar dips into the water as they traverse the wide, damp cavern. The soft blue of their subterranean illumination; it casts strange shadows over the sharp angles of his face. Makes something deeper of the vague concern he wears there.]

They don't prefer some other term? Magicians, perhaps? Although, come to think of it...Monsters. Seems rather on the nose, doesn't it. A bit a er, a bit cruel.

[She doesn't look monstrous, not to him. As for himself; it's this may not be the form he prefers, but he thought his gleaming black wings rather striking.]

[ Well, she has antlers slowly starting to grow back and hooves... and some fur on her lower body. But she also doesn't think she's all that monstrous. She gives him a little shrug in reply. ]

It's the words they use to describe all of us - although technically I'm a faun. Still, any of us who have these sort of traits, we're called "monsters". I didn't make it up.

[ Well, she could be called a monster for other reasons, but that's her old life. Mostly. ]

Some people use mage, but I haven't paid much attention to that... Maybe we could suggest a change of description?

Hmm. We could, I suppose. Although, if those are the terms these dream people are used to, it wouldn't do any harm to use them. Perhaps they only sound like insults to me.

[He shrugs, feathers shifting gently. Keeps up the steady pace of their rowing as they encounter a bend in the passage, a need to navigate around jutting rocks.]

But a er, a faun, is it? What does that make me, then? I'm thinking raven which...well, it's fitting.

I imagine you'd be a harpy... technically. They categorize everything by type, you see.

[ She digs her oar in and tries to steer their boat around one of the rocks, gaze a bit distant. This is actually rather pleasant, all things considered. ]

I should really see how they actually decided where to put people... I'm not sure it makes much sense.

Harpy...

[He says it, voice distant with thought, as he shifts his weight to one side, digs the blade of his oar against an outcropping of rock. Pushes them fractionally further away from the stalagmites beneath them.]

...if I have my mythical creatures right, that is an avian-esque beast. I suppose it makes sense. But ah, what do you mean, how they decide where to put people? Who decides?

[He's still inclined to believe it's only some wild facet of his imagination that has put him here, his shape dictated by his preferences. His own admiration for ravens, in particular.]

Edited 2020-03-22 21:23 (UTC)

No one really decides. It sort of just... happens when you arrive. I meant more in how they decide to categorize us. Like, who defines a faun? Why not call us satyrs? Or why harpies? Why chimeras? Why... anything?

[ She shrugs, backing water a little to avoid a pocket of swirling water. ]

Language. Not what we become.

Ah! Well. That one I can answer. It's the human thirst for knowledge, for categorisation. If one names a thing one knows it, and where there's knowledge there's understanding. The banishment of fear.

[He says it as they continue slowly on, the lake stretching wider up ahead of them. In the far distance, picked up by his new heightened vision-- shapes and movement. A slight brightening of the light. Civilisation, perhaps?

For now he pays it little mind. More invested in their conversation than whatever's waiting for them, further along the lake.]

You're right, of course. It's all just semantics, ultimately. But um...I probably should ask...arrived where exactly?

[He's dreaming of course, so perhaps it doesn't matter. But nonetheless he finds himself interested in what she might say.]

[ Iramaat also isn't paying too much attention to their erstwhile destination. The journey is much more interesting, anyway. ]

Aefenglom. It's a city - not here - but on the surface. It's... an interesting place, with a small population of those of us who have been summoned here... somehow. There's not much more I can tell you, honestly.

Hmm.

[A momentary lapse into silence, made heavy by the shape of his unspoken thoughts. The rhythmic sound of oars striking water, the creak of the boat beneath them, they're the only things to punctuate their journey until he finds his voice again. Words spoken softly, half to himself this time.]

This is awfully novel and detailed, for a dream. I’ve been told more times than I can count that I have an over-active imagination, but this? I didn’t think I had this in me.

Oh, it's a shared one. So you didn't come up with it all on your own. It's a dream of another world.

[ She sounds so casual about it. ]

A er...a what now?

[The lines around his feathered brow deepen, a sparking moment of confusion that can be seen in his face. But somehow, for some reason, there's the deep and sudden feeling in him that she's telling the truth, or believes herself to be. He gets the sense of it, as natural as sight, or scent.

Interesting.]

Well I...I suppose that's no more outlandish than any number of other things I've encountered.

[It's no weirder than those years of missing memories, than a Count burnt alive in his bed, a Count who came back from the dead. Strange rituals to merge two worlds together, spells that could break reality apart-- no. Shared dreaming, compared to that...it sounds quite plausible.]

I've no idea if the world itself is actually a dream or if we just dream of it before we arrive, but it's... interesting. I used to be made of the stuff and now here I am, flesh and blood. You'd think it'd be the opposite.

[ She shrugs. ]

It's not a magic I know nor is it one I think I can sort out. I was never a mage, even when I was gallivanting around the countryside. No, no...

[ She dips her paddle again, gaze distant. ]

But maybe this all is a dream within a dream.

[In truth, he doesn't entirely follow the direction of her thoughts. All this talk of arriving, of dreams within dreams, little hints that there is more to this than a nocturnal fantasy; it leaves him with questions. Questions he both does and does not want the answers to, but bigger to him than his own wants is the concern of becoming an annoyance. Peppering her with questions she may find tedious to answer, or may not want to explain--

--so they remain locked up tight within himself, and instead he only nods. Slow and sure, as though he knows precisely what she's getting at.]

I've never really been one to buy into all that. Man of science, me. I like facts, you know, certainties, things one can dissect and hold in one's hand. But um...I'd be a fool to say such things are impossible, after everything I've seen. So who knows?

[He smiles, shrugs. The movement causing a little hitch in his rowing, oar temporarily losing time with hers.]

Perhaps it really is all just a dream within a dream. Who can say?

Oh, facts are whatever we make of them. What we decide them to be. You can "prove" the sky is blue, but if everyone around you says it's green... who's to say they're in the wrong?

[ She smiles at him. Her view of the world is much more based on perspective; on what you can convince others of rather than the concrete. To set things in stone seems dreadfully dull to her, but she's also from a different time and place. ]

And dreams - dreams are hard to grasp. So really, what can we do but push on and try to find out what's ahead of us? No going back now.

I don't know. If they're wrong, they're wrong. A million people could believe a thing, but if there's solid evidence to the contrary than that's all it can ever be. A false belief.

[He says it with a crooked little smile that shows off the sharp points of his teeth, close to apologetic. It isn't quite in his nature to be disagreeable, but nor is it in him to deny provable facts, things that can be measured and seen. Still--]

I'll concede that it doesn't apply to everything. Some truths are more malleable than others. Magic has always seemed a slippery sort of thing, but it goes on existing all the same.

[Though time spent with Aisha and Salim have begun to reveal to him snips and slithers of logic behind what had, once, been too nebulous for him to grasp.

Slowly they grow closer towards their destination - or at least, a destination, the lake widening onto a dark-lit pebbly shore that he can more easily discern now. Boats moored up along it, moving shapes somewhere further beyond that which look suspiciously like people. Above all that, the vast rise of stone spires that look both like natural formations, and houses.]

But! You're right there, about dreams. We're here now, in the thick of it. May as well see where it'll take us.

Edited 2020-03-24 18:21 (UTC)

[ Iramaat enjoys being contrary and arguing her own philosophy, but it doesn't quite seem the time. Not when their boat journey is quickly coming to an end and not when her companion is an affable (and handsome) harpy. She shrugs her shoulders as if to say "who cares?" and simply moves on to another subject. ]

The journey and the destination are both a part of the fun. Shall we see where we've ended up?

[ The boat will be easy enough to tug onto the beach, she thinks. ]

Now there's something we can agree on.

[He says it, voice spangled with something akin to excitement as he casts another glance over a feathered shoulder, toward the swift-approaching shore. The closer they come, the more enticing their destination appears; he can pick out wide streets cluttered with people now, some 'monstrous' like himself, others seeming entirely human. Wandering about in various states of undress, sheer swarths of material draped over limbs, some seeming almost entirely nude. Stone spires stretch up almost as far as the eye can see, windows and wider apertures carved out of them here or there, thick slices of material draped between slick rocks to form other kinds of dwellings.

And there, close to where the rows of little boats are moored, is what appears to be a bustling marketplace. Thronged with people, stalls set up here and there; already he's itching to go and take a closer look, to see what fascinating treasures his dream-civilisation will reveal.]

Looks rather beautiful, really, doesn't it?

[Their boat draws nearer still, the dark depths of the lake they've been traversing shallowing out slowly, revealing gleaming pebbles underneath. Any moment now, he should be able to hop out of the boat, drag them the rest of the way to shore.

The dim blue emanations that serve as a light-source down here cast lancing shadows over everything. Gives it, he thinks, a somewhat romantic glow.]

Dream or otherwise, I'm quite eager to explore, my dear.

A bit like a fairytale, isn't it?

[ Says the person who used to be a part of one. Or thought she was, anyway. She watches the marketplace and town with a sense of rapt interest. She stops paddling as they glide in toward the shore and only glances up as she hears the boat touch bottom. She comes nimbly out of the boat and into the shallows to help with dragging the boat up the beach and out of the water. ]

So am I, honestly. It might all be a dream, but at least I'll have something of an adventure out of it, no?

[ The light gives her a face a sharp, angular look and makes her eyes gleam. She's eager and ready. ]

Shall we go together?

It is!

[There's overt enthusiasm in his voice as he hops neatly from their rickety wooden craft, lands in the shallow water with a subdued splash. He keeps talking, raising his voice so that she can hear it over the sounds of sloshing water. Begins dragging the boat ashore with her assistance.]

Like something from one of Mazelinka's old folk tales. Now that brings back memories...

[Half to himself, a tad wistful, though he's soon moving on.]

If you'd have me, I'd be honoured to keep you company.

You've been such good company so far, I'd feel awful if I left you to your own devices.

[ Iramaat replies, own voice rising over the sloshing water and the scrape of the hull on sand and pebbles. ]

So - let's explore together. See what we can find.

[ She shakes her hooves off once she's on dry(ish) land and turns to him with a bow. ]

A lady knight and... [ She pauses. ]

Well, what do I call you?

[His eyes spark with evident pleasure as she sketches a bow, and - releasing his hold on the moored boat, water still dripping from gleaming feathers - he returns the gesture in kind. Bows low, adds a flourish, the slight spread of his wings like a dramatic, dark cloak. If there's one thing that can be said for his new and unusual form, it's that it plays into his love of drama. He cuts quite the avian figure.]

Well if you're a lady knight, that must make me the dashing retainer, eh? Quite at your service.

[The quick slide of his smile, playing up to the theme that they've set for themselves.]

But if it pleases you, you can call me Julian.

[ Oh, my. If she were back as her normal self in her normal world, she'd be leaping at the chance to make him swear an oath (in "jest", of course) to serve her. But she's not and so she must let the opportunity for mischief pass her by. She offers him her hand all the same. ]

Julian it is. And you may call me Iramaat.

[ She turns to head up the beach toward the market, still holding him gently by the hand, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. ]

I can try and answer any questions you have - if you have any.

[She offers her hand and he takes it - careful of his wicked-looking talons, his touch a gentle thing - and once again he straightens. Wings tucked neat against his long, lean sides.]

Iramaat. An absolute pleasure.

[He makes no move to pull his hand free as he repeats her name aloud, committing it to memory. Allows himself, instead, to be gently led away from the pebbly beach and towards the bustle of civilisation. His keen eyes are already alight with it, narrowed down onto the sights before them, drinking it all in with the thirst of a man who hasn't seen water in days.

It may all be just a dream, but the adventurer in him comes alive all the same. Eager to see where they've found themselves.]

And my dear, I have so many questions I fear I might bore you to death with them.

Oh, it's no trouble. I am happy to help. What else are heroes for?

[ So, she has an ego, anyway. She's content to walk hand-in-hand, which is probably going to earn them a few looks as an apparent monster-monster couple, but hopefully no one tries to drag them into any witches? ]

I've been here for... oh, almost a year I think? Maybe more?

TDM: MARCH

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