dagung | ☆ TDM: MARCH

Test Drive: March 2021

All threads can be considered game canon,

the prompts and test drive itself will be

• The Application Queue is open. Applications run on a rolling queue system. The application page is always open to submissions, and applications will be processed in order of submission. Verdicts will always go out by the final week of a month, though we can't promise an exact date -- we'll get to them as quickly as we can throughout the month! If your application is submitted during the last week of a month, it may be rolled into next month's batch of applications. The application page can be found here.
• We have a brand new Game World Wiki created with the immense help of our Wiki Bards: Noa, Prince, Maruah and Ran. Thank you so much! It's still being updated, but most of the main game info is there for you in an easily searchable manner. All other info can still also be found through our Navigation page!
• 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!
• For current characters, TDM threads can be used for AC.
• And finally, since this is part of our event, characters already in-game ARE allowed to top-level on this post.

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 Calamity

The taste of magic in the air is electric on your tongue, supercharged, bright, a little tart and fizzy like popping candy. The settlement you find yourself in is unfamiliar to you, but you can tell it is bustling, beautiful, a center of culture and activity for its bygone era. The architecture blooms with elaborately carved flourishes, but you cannot shake the feeling of... otherworldliness that it brings to mind. (Perhaps you are a veteran of these dreams and remember a ship with similar embellishments from far away, that came bearing invaders, in a time long ago.) It is nearly impossible to tell what season you find yourself in - pockets of spring bloom with new life, right next to pockets of winter snowstorms; playful fall winds laden with leaves tug at your hair, and in some spots, it feels hot and muggy like the middle of summer. None of these patches of seasonal mayhem are very large, a few city blocks’ worth at most, and they all butt up against each other, tumultuous, fighting for real estate in a place where the magic bubbles freely up through the ground like a wellspring, uncontrolled. In a way, it seems like a wilder version of Aefenglom’s seasons always being opposite the season in the Wilde, similar but more widespread, more disharmonic.

Fit to Burst
The settlement is bustling and full of that otherworldly architecture, spirals and tendrils and vaguely floral embellishments, except... If you look closer, you can see that only a few of the buildings are really made that way. An illusion covers the rest, purely cosmetic, a glamour; it's a shimmering image laid over reality until you look beneath it at the squat, simple houses made by mortal hands out of rough hewn wood or bricks of packed mud. The people are just as disparate as the buildings beneath it all - glittering-eyed Fae, taller, more elongated and insectoid than those seen around Aefenglom, though many of them use glamours to appear more fantastical and beautiful; humans teeming with magic, who use it freely for anything and everything; other bipedal Monsters with rougher, more bestial features than longtime residents might be used to, more in tune with their natural abilities.

It wouldn't be a bad idea to explore your new surroundings, though you're likely to garner attention. Unless the world you come from is a more medieval time period, your clothing, perhaps even your hair or other aspects of your appearance are likely to stand out. What will make you stand out even more, though, is not drawing on your abundant new magical powers, or strong new Monster abilities. That shop there requires flight to get up to the second story front door. That home down the street can only be unlocked with a burst of flame. Torches when it grows dark? No, don’t be ridiculous, you can't light your own way? Your hair looks hideous, darling, why haven’t you put on a glamour?

Reluctance to use these abilities abundantly and freely garners frowns of scrutiny and disapproval from those natives around you. "We're free here under the Fae folk. They've taught us so much, we never go hungry, we’re never beaten down by the weather." Their words hold truth - their twisted-trunk trees are bursting with fruit, their haphazardly laid out crops flourish in a matter of days rather than a season, rain and snow can be directed at will with just an application of the wild, free magic bubbling up from the ground in rivers.

There is a hierarchy in this settlement. The Fae are above all, and can often be found partying into the night with sweet wine and hallucinogenic mushrooms, teaching humans and Monsters to harness their natural talents and the magic of the land by day. Their attitudes are condescending toward these lesser beings they’ve granted their favor to (including you, now, and aren’t you just the most interesting, darling little things?), delighting in spreading their knowledge. The humans and Monsters still seem awestruck by their benevolent masters - a word they mean in the sense of 'teachers' - accepting their gifts, using their magic, and none of them will so much as whisper a complaint. Not when it’s safe here. Not when all is well.

It's more than they can say for the lands outside of their paradise, even if things do happen here that the Fae do not like to hear them speak of.

Gain the trust of the natives, and you might hear rumors, whispers of a rotting pox hitting other communities far from here, or first hand accounts of how so-and-so witnessed another death just last week, a human woman blew up in town, and some of the Monsters, they been goin’ right bestial. Shh, shh, you didn’t hear it from them! (Don’t let the Fae catch you gossiping. They might just take you and the native both aside, whisper in your ears, let the magic wind its way around your brain until you don't remember any longer what you were talking about or even who you are, where you come from. You were having a good time though, right?)

You can try to leave the settlement, to explore the woods that surround it, but you’re likely to be noticed and warned: "You should stay here, make sure you don’t run into any of the unfriendly locals - they don't care for our masters."

The Emergence
Time passes strangely in a dream. It might feel like a handful of hours, or even a few days, before a change can be felt all throughout the strange, unsettling paradise. If you’ve had a recent brush with it in the waking world, you might recognize the signature of it - the Cwyld. Something in the air feels very wrong, like a chill in the middle of summer, a sudden warm wind in winter; the plant life beneath your very feet begins to blacken in color, with near-indiscernible white lines marring their surfaces, and no matter who you are, no matter the pride you may take in your courage, a shiver raises every hair on your body without fail: Something wicked this way comes.

The wellspring of magical energy flowing like a river beneath your feet takes on a new feeling when you try to draw from it, a dark and heavy sensation, oily and creeping. Reaching for the magic, it feels as though you're reaching into hollow darkness, dried up and consumed, and the disparate plants of different seasons, growing alongside each other, begin to bulge grotesquely and burst, splattering an unknown black substance over anything unfortunate enough to be in the splash zone. Possibly even you. Don't pass under the fruit trees. The infection has seeped into the overtapped leyline, and it bleeds through the settlement quickly, much quicker than it seems to move in the current-day waking world. The plant life, with their roots dug deep into the earth, are only the first casualty, as it spreads rapidly to the animals, and then the natives, blackening and tainting everything it touches.

The village is thrown into chaos. Fae and any who seem to have Dragon in them are the first to show signs of infection, blackened veins visible under paling skin and white film growing over the eyes. Bodies grow brittle and twisted the more it spreads and settles in. Humans with an abundance of magic are the next to lose themselves to it, quickly followed by other Monsters. While in the waking world, infection spreads more slowly, here, it can be almost instantaneous, the process of becoming a Shade, losing all sense of self.

They have no resistance to the Cwyld, and in this dream, neither do you. You're just as susceptible to the infection, and some may find themselves succumbing to the infection spreading to the heart and pumping itself through their veins. Becoming a Shade is a painful experience, a painful existence, as the life is snuffed out of you and your body keeps going. In this dream, you might be lucky (or unlucky) enough to keep your wits about you, to remain sentient and somewhat yourself - or you might become one of the mindless, violent many whose only directive is to spread the Cwyld to everything that lives, including your fellow dreamers. Even if you do stay aware of yourself, it is hard to resist the pull of the Cwyld on your mind, urging you to spread and infect, to leave nothing whole and living.

Before your eyes, the settlement begins to die. You can't help anyone who is already infected, even if you know healing spells that work in the waking world, unless you're willing to put them out of their misery before they become a Shade corrupted beyond all assistance. You might be busier trying to save your fellow Mirrorbound, though, as they try to avoid that fate themselves or fall prey to it in front of you.

And while the earth and plants and people around them turn black and fall to ruin, any of the Fae who managed to remain untainted simply flee, running from the settlement without stopping to help anyone in need, not even the students who so looked up to them.

Note: Becoming a Shade in this prompt is optional, and Mirrorbound Shades may keep their minds or not at player discretion! Infection will not carry over out of the dream. Dying in the dream will put your character back at the edge of the village, uninfected and alive again, to witness the rest of its downfall.

Light It Up
Help comes in an unexpected, unwanted form. Those unfriendly locals the residents of this village spoke of previously appear through the morning mists, shrouded in clumsy protections like masks and gloves, and practical, non-flashy spells. The group is made up of grim-faced humans and Monsters, a surprisingly cohesive unit of people who look out for each other as they make their way through the woods with torches held aloft. They are hardier than those indulged, magic-glutted folks who suffer now. These newcomers are dressed more practically, for working land or fighting battles, but they, too, have humans among them who can harness their magic. Their witches keep their torches lit, and work closely with their Monsters, helping each other in a way that will not feel unfamiliar.

They've come today, they'll say if you get a chance to speak with them, however briefly (they're a little busy to answer too many questions), to try and stop this blight on the land before it can reach their village, some miles to the south. They've seen it before, though never this severe. This Cwyld will spread and spread, until there is nothing left.

Best to burn it all down before its tendrils creep too far, before its roots dig too deep.

They fight and destroy the Shades however they can, showing no mercy, though their spells are crude and simple, and their Monsters use their natural forms without any showy abilities, depending on claws and teeth and strength to do their jobs. Working together, with simple weapons in their hands, they are formidable. Even if you kept your mind, kept your speech, they will not let you live if you were infected - and may not let you live even if you weren’t infected, just to be safe. You may join them, if you wish, help them burn down the blackened trees or even Shades that were once people - or you may fight them, but they won't relent. They burn the whole settlement down, leaving wide patches of scorched earth like blackened scars on the land. It’s the only way, they say, from their limited experience. Everything must return to the earth.

As the settlement goes up in flames fully, they retreat, only remaining long enough to ensure the fire stays where it needs to stay, and will not spread to uninfected forest. For those of you who were completely uninfected and may have thus been spared, they are still unwelcoming and will not allow you to travel back to their own village with them, threatening with swords and flames any who are too insistent. They aren't too keen to talk, but you may get a few answers out of them, the basics - some of their parents originally lived here, learned magic from the Fae, though when they saw the dangers, they left, believing that such power should be used more sparingly, more responsibly. Against the Fae, if at all possible, and against their destructive ways. It was just a matter of time, they thought, until calamity struck, and lo.

You just saw what happens, what that much magic can call down in divine retribution. How magic itself fights back against the excesses of those who would abuse it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Ciri's smile falls slowly as she stares for a moment, blankly at Yennefer. Then, it falls away entirely. Like a dream within a dream fleetingly remembered upon waking, there's a distinct feeling, a pang in her chest as though this has happened before, but she can't quite... place it. A bad sense of déjà vu. ]

Yennefer... please, that isn't funny.

[ Ciri is aware this isn't exactly real, but the feeling is as distant as the memory. She knows all about being trapped in bad dreams, but still doesn't know a thing about escaping from them. ]

Has it been so long since we last saw each other?

[ The question is honest. Suddenly, Ciri isn't sure. Another problem with dreams. ]

[ The disappointment is unexpected. And a bit heartbreaking. Though, she can't place her finger on the why. Perhaps it's the seeming phases of her expression shifting. But, she's unsure of what to say to remedy the situation.

The confusion mixes into something a bit softer, sadder. ]

I'm sorry.

[ She could say the other woman had her mixed up with someone, but she knew Yen's name and the title from home-- Fuck. That bit of sympathy hardens back into confusion as she tries to place the stranger's face. ]

Perhaps you could give me your name. [ See if that sparks anything. ]

[ If it was anyone but Yennefer, she might have thought with some hope that one of the Fae had probably cursed her, scrambled her memory like she'd heard someone else complaining about in hushed voices around the village. But she can't imagine Yennefer of all people could actually be victim to such a spell, even from powerful magical creatures in a dream. Not even when that would be easier to swallow.

Several more heartbeats pass in silence. Ciri swallows, feeling suddenly small, like the little girl she'd been when she'd first laid eyes on the raven-haired sorceress in the temple -- and disliked her on sight, as she recalls. It would have been an amusing memory on another occasion.

Finally, she replies, with a lingering edge of sadness but with conviction. Whatever is happening, they can fix it. ]

It's Ciri.

[ An apology isn't appropriate in the moment, but it feels like the only thing she can offer to a woman she doesn't know. There's a missing piece of the puzzle and Yennefer's mind isn't moving fast enough to fill it in yet. Part of her worries that any additional delays might upset the other woman more, but for once? She's at a loss, fully and completely.

Especially with the way she says her name, the disappointment palpable. And fuck. Ciri... Ciri-- the name doesn't ring--

It rings something in the back of her mind, the name unique enough to spark the remnants of an old habit. Once upon a time, she'd had to know the names of all the royal families -- ]

Is Ciri short for Cirilla? Your grandmother wouldn't happen to be Queen Calanthe of Cintra, would she?

[ That still doesn't answer how Yennefer might know her, but it's a starting point. ]

[ There's something wrong with this conversation. Very wrong.

The way Yennefer phrases her question, Ciri suddenly has an unpleasant, uncomfortable suspicion. ]

It is. [ Ciri answers carefully. ] And... yes, she was.

[ Was. Well, there's something she's missing. Makes sense with the age difference that circumstances might change. Still... She's missing something.

So, she chooses honesty. Context of her own. ]

The last thing I remember is the Battle of Sodden.

[ Filling in a gap for Ciri that might help where Yennefer is failing. Preparing for her death, but apparently, that might not happen if this woman knows her. ]

[ Ciri's brows furrow, expression growing more troubled, but in a way less confused. Her nagging suspicion seems to be correct.

It's strangely easier to accept in a 'dream' though she instinctively knows that this is one of those dreams that isn't only that. Sometimes, she still sees Yennefer in her dreams, or Geralt, but this doesn't feel like that. Not nearly as... portentous, though no less intense and too-real in its own way.

This is impossible to think about objectively from the perspective of the dreamer, though; Ciri is forced to let that awareness fade to the back of her mind again.

She lets out a slow breath.

It's a matter of time. ]

I understand.

I'm sorry to have confused you.

As it turns out, you don't know me after all.

[ Of all the circumstances she could have expected to face in a dream, this wasn’t even near the end of her list. There’s a hurt she can’t understand and she has no fucking idea how to even fix this.

So, she starts with a basic. ]

I know of you. But, you know me. How?

[ It’s less of a demand and more of a genuine question. Her tone isn’t harsh or demanding, something she reserves for more serious moments, this needed to be handled with more delicacy than she truthfully could muster right now. But, she was going to try.

And if Ciri tries to walk away, she’ll collide with a barrier if Yen can’t catch her arm.

Part of her could possibly attempt to muster a guess, but it’d be wrong. Fully and completely. Because that would require her recognizing there was a life after Sodden and that… that was a lot. ]

[ Ciri's mouth twists in an unpleasant grimace, making the faded-pink scar across her cheek pucker. She tosses ashen wisps of hair from her eyes, looking impatient and frustrated, but... she doesn't try to walk away.

It isn't Yennefer's fault. It just hurts more than it should, considering this is 'just' a dream.

And as it's just a dream, she can't contain herself. Even if it might be smart not to interfere with a dissonance in time in this way. Avallac'h had never mentioned anything like this. ]

Geralt asked you to help me. And you did.

Or... perhaps you will.

I think I've just somehow appeared here a few years too soon for you to understand.

[ She's not sure what she expected to hear, but the idea of Geralt asking for her help with a Princess...There's more to the story. There has to be. But she's not sure if she wants to get it from Ciri or go straight to the Source. Her mind is spinning, trying to figure out in what circumstance he could have need for her help. When he could suddenly find himself responsible for another--

Oh for fuck's sake. It's a conversation they've never had, the identity surrounding the news he'd dropped on her after all but throwing her desire for a child back in her face. A sore spot that was easier to ignore and move on from right now. Or at least had been until the subject of it all arrived. It was typical for Yen and Geralt to avoid something and pretend it didn't exist when they knew it would likely result in a fight. There was too much going on most days to find need to push for anything else that might be prickly.

But, she needs confirmation before driving herself to any emotional responses or outbursts. Even if the woman in front of her wouldn't be on the receiving end of it. ]

Are you his child surprise?

[ Ciri blinks. It sounds so different as a question. Even though Yennefer hadn't called her that in years, she suddenly remembers it so clearly, her cool voice with a note of impatience all those years ago, when Ciri had decided to dislike her on principle back in the temple. Yennefer had called her Surprise, called her ugly, driven her to such frustration and anger at the time that Ciri had wanted to explode from it. But now, with the distance of time and cushion of fondness, the memory is nostalgic.

After a beat, she smiles. ]

So I am.

[ Well, that confirms for her that she must be many years too soon, somehow. It's an unexpected circumstance she's never had to deal with.

...she actually might know more than Yennefer! Ciri realizes suddenly, amazed. At least about some things. ]

☆ TDM: MARCH

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sorry for the delay

same here ;;;