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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. Aside from that, here are some quick reminders:• 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.With that taken care of...
• 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.
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. |
no subject
He wishes he had so little of a heart, he could simply walk away and be done with her. He doesn't know her, after all. She's not the young girl he had been searching for, not the one he'd thought might have needed him. She seems perfectly capable of handling herself.
But he doesn't. So he's still here, for all the good it seems to be doing. ]
Therianthrope. [ A shifter, or what the world calls Turnskins. But he thinks, if she has been raised by...some version of him, she would find that term most familiar. ]
The magic is tied directly to the land. [ He stops beneath some overhanging branches. It might be best to stay here for the night. There's no telling what other settlements are out there, consumed by the Cwyld. Nor how many other hunting parties looking to burn it all down.
There's a small pause, before he adds, ] I was on my way to Kaer Morhen. [ That he never made it doesn't need to be said. ]
no subject
When Geralt stops, she opens her mouth to ask if they should stay here for the night, noticing it's a fairly clear patch of forest floor with decent cover above--
But his next words seem to pull the breath right out from her lungs before she can get a word out. Her eyes widen briefly, shining in the darkness, before she suddenly looks away.
I lost you. In Cintra.
And how much time had passed after that? She tries to make it fit in her memory, tries to make sense of what it means and can only come up with one answer: time. There are worlds upon worlds, and moments upon moments of time. Endless, ever-turning, grains of sand all individual and connected. It's the conclusion she came to some time ago but didn't want to admit to herself, hoping there was some explanation that tied Geralt to this world instead, that ended differently, that didn't push her toward the inevitable understanding that settles like a stone in her stomach.
Her throat feels like a desert. She expects the words to come out cracked and shaking, but they don't. Only quiet, without rancor. It isn't a question. ]
...without me.
no subject
Ciri, too, seems to remember him with fondness. And he hasn't got any idea what to do with that information.
A few moments of silence pass. Geralt gathers up some tinder, a clear indication he means to camp here. At least for the time being. He's already prepared to abandon it should the fires spread any closer. ]
You were... [ He hesitates. He places the wood carefully into a pile. Every explanation sounds like an excuse. I couldn't find you. Cintra was ashes. The horses were gone. Mousesack was missing. Your grandmother threw herself out the fucking window. Perhaps it is. Perhaps he should've tried harder, looked harder. (Because isn't that what's dug under his skin for years and years? That his mother had never even tried?) ]
I should've come sooner.
no subject
That monster got you good. Rest a minute. I'll gather wood.
[ Some part of her is afraid to ask. If it is as he says and she'd really died in Cintra--
But once again, it doesn't quite match up. He says just enough to confuse and frighten her, but not enough to explain either one way or the other, to dispel her fears or confirm them.
Finally, Ciri decides to straighten out the truth and get what really happened out of him. ]
Tell me what happened, Geralt.
After the fall of Cintra until you went through that portal. Everything, please.
no subject
It'd been easier to move forward. To focus on all the shit happening on this sphere instead, of which there'd been plenty.
At least he sits without argument. Cautious not to get any of the Shade's gore on his skin, he starts to wipe his blade clean. ]
I searched, but you were gone. The city was razed. I thought...Nilfgaard would never spare a child in line to inherit the crown. [ He glances up. ] After that, I couldn't tell you what was real or not. Ghouls didn't waste a second coming for the dead. On my way out, I was bit.
[ He remembers the merchant, Visenna. He also remembers the healers at the Coven patching him up. He doesn't know what the truth is, how he came to survive. Whether he only survived because he'd come through this world.
He's never admitted it to anyone. Not Jaskier, not Yen. After she confessed Sodden likely took her life—he wasn't about to tell her. ] I woke up here
no subject
I was... gone?
[ The way he'd phrased it earlier, Ciri had been sure he would describe something a lot more certain. The unpleasant tension around her ribs loosens up a bit. Ciri takes a deeper breath, letting it out with relief. ]
So you just couldn't find me. But... you still might.
[ Ciri steps closer again, crouching to get the wood arranged for the fire.
There's still some level of uncertainty, mostly because this whole situation is even stranger than most of the other -- also very strange and unbelievable -- things she's seen and experienced in her life thus far. But there is still hope. Ciri tries to remember anything Geralt had told her about his own journey back then, but whether the details have been eroded by time or Geralt never shared them to that extent, it's impossible for her to know for sure what he'd done before he'd found her at Goldencheeks' home. She knows, however, that Geralt had thought she was dead then too.
Before destiny brought them together again, and he'd finally taken her home.
Ciri rocks back on her heels, arms wrapping around her knees to rest there for a moment while she turns her face up toward Geralt. The tension has eased from her brows and temples, and a hint of a smile tugs at her lips. ]
You will. I know it.
no subject
She believes it so damn easily, that he has. Even if he has absolutely no memory of it or her or the years they've apparently spent together.
When he finally answers, it's quiet, though not without an undercurrent of irony. ] Destiny.
[ He can admit there's something that's brought him and Yennefer and Jaskier here together. Something he can't rationally explain. The Continent is vast. The chances of falling through this mirrored rift is infinitely small. And yet, here they are. The three of them.
Four now. ]
Suppose I can't doubt I was the one who taught you. [ He gestures at her sword. There's no mistaking a Witcher's fighting style. For the briefest moment, he feels a sudden inexplicable longing for a memory of that. He pushes it aside. He's never wanted a child and he'd only meant to take her somewhere safe. Not to raise her as his own. But... ] You must've stayed with us awhile. Or you learned quickly.
no subject
[ Ciri looks down again, fishing a curved fire striker and flint stone out of one of the pouches at her belt and sets about actually starting the fire with a practiced hand. A few sparks, a bit of rearranging of the larger pieces of wood, and a little fire crackles to life, illuminating her face with a warm glow. ]
I know because I needed you. And you always find me when I need you.
[ That's Destiny too. But it's also something else. Something more. Love.
Ciri unfolds gracefully, rising to her feet to take another look around the perimeter and gather some more wood to keep the fire going for a bit, though she doesn't move away so far they can't comfortably converse.
Her teeth flash white in the shadows near the trees when she turns back to grin over her shoulder. ]
Why not both?
no subject
And what is it that she needs him for here and now? He isn't sure he wants to ask. If it's something he's even able to give.
He stokes the fire in silence: his default when he can't find a response worth saying. Her smile is bright. In the flickering light, she nearly glows. Despite it all, he finds himself softening. ]
Mm. Now we're boasting. [ He leans back against the tree to ease the strain on his side and idly brushes pine needles out of his tail. He watches her circle the area for a minute. ] Let me see your sword.
no subject
[ She teases, still smiling, clearly starting to feel better. It's still Geralt, after all. They're still together.
It might be confusing and difficult, but she's not alone. ]
Oh. Sure.
[ Ciri reaches back to unhook the scabbard from its strap around her chest and shoulder, then comes over to sit down beside Geralt before handing over the sheathed sword for him to look at without the slightest hesitation. ]
How's your side?
no subject
It surprises him how easily she gives it up, and yet...it only makes sense, too. He reaches for the sword, drawing it from its sheathe. He was right to recognize it: up close, it's unmistakable in its design, in the weight of it—though a little shorter than his own and lighter, no doubt made specially for her to wield. ]
I'll be fine. [ He turns to watch her, studying the face he's meant to know. As if he stares long enough, he'll find a flicker of the memories he doesn't have. Carefully, he hands her back her weapon. ] Seems you'll be, too.
[ He's not certain what will happen after the night has faded, and this forest along with it. That she exists apparently out of time with him is a headache in itself. But maybe it's worth something, too, knowing he's found a version of the girl where he didn't fail her. ]
no subject
[ She says it softly, reassuring.
He'll find her. He won't fail her. Neither of them will have to be alone anymore.
Whatever happens after the dream fades, Ciri knows that much. They'll be all right. ]