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TDM: MARCH
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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 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.With that taken care of...
• 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. |
ii because i have to
Anyway, her only change thus far has been her teeth. ...Well, her only one visible. She keeps scratching at her arms, every few minutes, so there's probably something going on there. Her teeth, however, they're sharper, such that her lower lip show signs of bleeding, recently. Worrying at it, most likely, forgetfully. It results in a very frustrated air around her, as she's watching a woman be consumed, or whatever. She doesn't speak, doesn't offer opinions, but that. That from her companion here, that.
Annabeth turns her head so fast she almost gets whiplash. Immediately curses herself for doing so. ]
Where? Did you see it?
no subject
[Although admittedly he didn't expect it to escalate like this. He turns that unsettling gaze on her and frowns slightly.] No? How would I have seen it? It doesn't exist.
[A bold claim to make, considering all the crazy shit he's done in the last nine years, but it's fine. It's fine. Minotaurs don't exist, he states decisively.]
I'm talking about the story, that's all. Sacrifices. [He gestures languidly to the hanging moss, as though that explains everything.]
no subject
Her stormy gray eyes clear up from their troubled state; they fade to something akin to disappointment, and in that moment she looks away again. ]
Saying something doesn't exist here seems counterproductive, all things considered. [ That comes out snippier than she intends. Annabeth doesn't want to put someone off, really. She's just annoyed at herself, for letting the mystical nature of Aefenglom mix with her natural mask of walking through the mortal realm. Every few moments, she wants to compare something to her time on quests, fighting monsters or doing errands for the gods, to sailing through the Sea of Monsters or navigating the Labyrinth.
But she can't. And while she's gotten used to one foot in the mortal realm, one foot in her real life to the point that she can switch between them, letting them intermingle's becoming too difficult for her brain to navigate. She's going to blame her godly ADHD and leave it at that. ]
Is that what you think this is? I've never seen a sacrifice so happy to be eaten by glowy, green moss.
no subject
If it did, I think they'd be more open about it. Not like they're being really secretive about the literal Monsters running around. No motivation to hide something that's a human-animal hybrid, when you get right down to it.
[If it helps at all, the snippiness clearly doesn't bother him. Probably because he, too, is snippy. And irritated and tired and cold, now that he's been down here a while. It's annoying. He's snippy on a good day too, though.]
How many sacrifices have you seen? [Probably a non-zero amount.] It's probably a cultural thing. An honor. Besides, they look like they've lived long lives. Maybe they've been waiting for this for a while.
no subject
[ Regarding the sacrifices, however, she seems a bit more...well, ready to take feedback. She hums and dips her head, trying to find another boat with another old woman dying. It feels weird just sitting around and letting it happen. ]
...I acknowledge it could be different here...but the Minotaur story was never one I thought of as something about sacrifice. At least, not willing sacrifice. Myths always have a way of sounding different, depending on who's telling them.
no subject
[He's skeptical, and sounds it. Considering she just hollered about the Minotaur like it was a real thing and then clearly felt weird about it. But you know what, that's fine. He's got bigger fish to fry. Moss to fry. Something.]
[While Annabeth looks, Santa watches . . . her. Not the other boats, not the water. He couldn't say why exactly he doesn't look for those ladies, or why he wouldn't stop them, but he wouldn't. Sometimes people have reasons for doing what they're doing, even if it doesn't make sense to other people.]
[. . . Yeah.]
[He hums.]
No willing sacrifices there, no. But those sacrifices, they were to quell a beast, right? Among other things. [Royalty's a bitch every time.] Maybe whatever that moss really is needs to be fed every so often.
no subject
Because he's watching her, he'll probably notice that she rolls her eyes, as if being asked about Greek myth and correcting it is a normal thing for her. (Which, it is, but, that's not normal to other people.) ]
There were sacrifices in the story, but that's never what it was about. The sacrifices were a result of Minos' hubris, just like the birth of the Minotaur himself. Minos thought he could ignore an order from the Gods. It cost both him and his wife. The Labyrinth, the Minotaur... They were the result of one man trying to think he was bigger, better. Thinking that just because he was a son of Zeus, he could do anything and make the world his plaything.
[ While she's describing this as if giving a lecture, still, there's an undercurrent to her voice. King Minos... That guy was a real bastard. ]
So... I don't think of it as a story about sacrifice. I think of it as a story of a tyrant.
no subject
[The difference this time, though, is that he listens to what she says. Actually listens, pointedly listens, with a quietness and focus that calls into question any previous flippancy.]
[Because the thing is that she's right. Which doesn't make him wrong, necessarily. Sacrifices aren't made for nothing. Sometimes the point is loyalty, or religion, or pressure from some outside force. Sometimes the point is more complicated. Cosmic justice, or whatever. The greater good. Ha ha.]
[He leans forward, elbows on his knees, arms laid over each other loosely.] How do you know this isn't about hubris? I don't think these people live down here for fun. It's an evolutionary niche, but not one that sentient species would volunteer for. Nobody wants to be the blind cave fish. Maybe all of this is some kind of punishment for previous misdeeds. Minos-level douchery.
[A beat. Fingers drumming on his knees.]
. . . Wasn't everybody the son of Zeus, though? I feel like basically everybody was the son of Zeus.
no subject
It can sure feel like that sometimes, that you couldn't throw an apple without hitting one. [ She almost makes a comment about how much he would throw himself at mortals but. That seems a bit too blasphemous. Even though the gods aren't here, she wouldn't want to be turned into an eagle, the moment she finds her way home.
...Not like. She's not turning into something else right-- not important, don't think about it--
She hurriedly continues on, brushing aside one of her messy curls, self-conscious. ] In any case, this doesn't seem quite like hubris to me because...well, it comes back to the look on those women's faces. Even with someone forced into a difficult life, there's usually some kind of...resentment, or acknowledgement. The ones here...they look almost proud. Maybe it's not being sacrificed. Maybe it's ascending to a higher form. [ But... ] ...But, I can't claim to know for sure. It's just my first hypothesis.
no subject
[But he kind of misses making people laugh. Even laughs like that. It strikes at some lonely core of him that still likes to pretend people other than Akane matter. He likes talking to smart people other than Akane sometimes about things that aren't morphogenetic fields and conspiracy theories. This is a weird fragment of a conversation that is a fragment of an existence where he could have had conversations like this all the time.]
[Not important, don't think about it. Think about what she's saying. It's smart. It's something to focus on. Having a conversation with someone who's smart and can carry a conversation and outwit him, maybe, he hopes. He's so tired of being the smartest guy in the room.]
They do look proud, don't they.
[When you die for someone in a cruel situation, in a situation that was unfair, that was forced upon you, there is ugliness in your expression. There's pain and anger and maybe fear. There's nothing like that here.]
[He glances up at the moss again, then back at Annabeth.]
It could be both, you know. [Sacrifice and ascension. Pursing his lips, thoughtful, he shrugs, then raises his hands palms-out.] You got me. Logicked the hell out of me.
So what's your second hypothesis? [En guarde.]
no subject
From the implicit to explicit concession, Annabeth can't help but drink in how proud that makes her. She's used to it, having a theory about everything, regaling others with research. Because that's how you live. Every time, it fills her with a sort of warmth, like that's another week you won't be some monster's lunch! So, even in this dark cavern, in a little boat, her gray eyes light up. ]
My second hypothesis is one I'm still forming. [ The frown shifts to a smirk. Despite everything, this is...nice. Like the couple times Percy follows what she's saying, though him rolling his eyes and just staring at her is always nice too. ...No, it feels more like debate with her siblings. She misses them, so deeply. ] It could be both. I don't have enough information about the situation to say one way or another, after all.