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TDM: July
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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 spot, put one in! We accept applications without reserves too, of course. Reserves will expire three days before the end of the application period, on the 28th.With that taken care of...
• Applications Open The 24th! These will last until the end of the month, the 31st, with the intro log going on up the 1st. The application page can be found here.
• If you have any questions about the game or the world, please refer to the FAQ page; if you still have questions, feel free to ask them! For questions specific to the test drive, please ask them on the appropriate thread.
• For the purposes of the test drive, your character will have access to all magics taught by the Coven if they're a Witch, and as much of their shifted form as you'd like if they're a Monster. Feel free to play around and experiment with each!
• 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 Living Forest
It feels warmer than it should be. Hot, dry, dark. The sky above all but black- save for the ominous orange glow against the distant horizon. In the gloaming there’s a resonant smell of decay; of musty pine and sun-baked wood and, more worryingly, the distant scent of smoke, of ash. There’s no wind to speak of, and yet… something whispers. The shiver of leaves, the crack of dry branches- and if you listen long enough, almost… the sound of voices in the trees.
 Controlled Burn The forest you find yourself in is still alive- for now. Ash filters through the browning leaves like snow, dotting the path you’ve found yourself on in bone white fragments. Following the rustling leads it to grow all the more frantic, whispered voices speaking without words- or perhaps you simply cannot understand. You feel as though you’re being watched, the tree clusters growing thicker, tighter and- is it just your imagination, or… are they moving? Suddenly before you an old oak splits with a thunderous crack- followed by a deafening scream. Gnarled, blackened hands reach from within the tree, scraping at your clothes, agony wrought through every striation of her features as the infection spreads. Before you, the tree withers as the nymph falls into the dirt, long fingers tearing up the earth as she crawls towards you. Understanding comes to you in stark clarity: the noises through the trees are a cry for help. Before your very eyes the leaves of her once lush hair dries; cracks and breaks away, falling to join the ashen forest floor. With pleading eyes she gazes at you, before her eyes roll back, and she collapses, utterly still. And she’s not the only one; the forest is alive, the very trees reaching for you, roots clawing up to crack open the earth itself in their desperation. Don’t let them touch you, though. The infection spreads quickly. Branching through your veins and leaving your limbs sluggish, heavy, and brittle. The feeling is utterly agonizing, reminiscent of having poured molten lava into your blood. The longer the infection is left untreated, the more, and faster it spreads, the worse the pain becomes. The trees know, they whisper the truth: the only way to cleanse yourself is through the fire. |
 Creeping Fire Not all nymphs have met such a terrible fate. Not yet, at least. Some huddle together, their branching arms clinging to one another as they softly weep. Others walk willingly towards the distant orange glow with grim determination. Still others implore you with wide, fearful eyes to do something- anything to help them. Surely these new abilities you’ve found yourself with must be good for something. They lead you to a natural amphitheatre; the slow sloping blackened earth sinking into a gully bordered by a high rock wall. The heat is the most bearable here; the area cooled by the towering stone. Wilting nymphs huddle together along with sympathetic faun. Those who have skills in manipulating water are a welcome relief; these tree spirits are desperate for it. But this temporary refuge won’t last for long. The infection wants to spread. Like rabies, maddening its’ hosts and raising their aggression. And where better to draw from than the root of this sanctuary? Where the stone wall rises and provides shelter from the fire, so too does it trap these refugees in… Defend against the infected, before all hope is lost. |
 Staging Area Past the disease, the horror and cries for help, there is a genuinely quiet place. It isn’t much, compared to how things used to be, but there’s a clearing scarred at the edges with scorch marks instead of Cwyld, with the beginnings of plants sprouting once more. Baby grass clusters in small groups, small stems pushing out of the ashen ground with hopeful buds. Some earlier bloomers already casting vibrant colors to what was once a meadow. It’s serene, it’s peaceful, it’s an area that’s been cleansed by fire and Cwyld kept at bay by Witches at least a century out of fashion, though they don’t seem to respond to outside presences with how focused they are. Those taking breaks from their turn on the edge offer greetings and air worries about the spreading taking root in the forest, but (like the Fae in the first dream, for those who recall) don’t say much else unique, wondering if they’ll be able to return home anytime soon and if this was truly worth the effort. Of course it is, an older one might snap back. In a war of attrition, all efforts are worthy. However, this isn’t the only camp they’ve set up. There’s one not too far off that begins with frost and ends in a frozen area of land, sound muffled by cold and everything from the trees to nymphs so iced not even a dragon’s flame could melt it. Inquiries about this area result in some sheepish looks, and the answer of how some Witches became a little excited at the idea of putting surviving nymphs and the rest of the flora into a form of dormancy and overdid it, a bit. |
no subject
It's quite a sight to behold, both beautiful and terrifying given her background as an agent who dealt in bioweapons that transformed people into monsters. He, however, didn't seem to be out of his mind.
His words hit her closer to home than he probably knew, an orphan herself at the hands of others, a secondary family that didn't want her without the government money that came with her, and now the destruction of her country and people by bioweapons, and in a way, her own hands. It's a heavy weight to carry, and there's empathy in her own eyes from that moment forth.
She's about to speak when he lifted the axe and they started to glow, her own eyes widening. Magic isn't a thing in her world. Then his name followed and she stared in disbelief as her mind stitched together information from college courses to the display and details in front of her.
This is another mix of beautiful and terrifying. Different than before.
"I believe you." The display was quite inspirational to be honest, even in her own situation. "I'm Sheva Alomar," she introduced. "And I'm fairly certain I died."
How did one survive when they're technically dead?
no subject
"Be welcome, Sheva Alomar. You are not alone."
He nodded, then cocked his head. "It is possible. Sometimes, at the edge of death, a spirit might find a new place to be drawn to. In which case you likely will wake up here, soon, very alive."
Thor smiled, tired, and unsure, but ready.
"Mayhap the powers of this world have chosen you to find a new destiny."
no subject
For the briefest of moments, she wondered if he was teasing her with such a grand gesture, but she quickly realized that this man(-cat?) was entirely genuine with a smile like that.
His words gave her pause, mind curling around the presented possibility without delving too deep. She'd think later, when she couldn't sleep and they weren't living in what felt like an outbreak zone mixed with a natural disaster. The thought of waking up from death and leaving this purgatory sounds too crazy to process right now.
But she could walk, and put herself to use.
"I was just walking patrol, if you want to join me?"
Maybe he and his massive hammer would like to put themselves to use too.
no subject
"I wonder what there is out here to discover." He hoped that there was something better than this.
He felt like he was battered, and unsure, but like he could find his way, if he kept moving. And maybe he was meant to meet this person, so as to have a path to move on.
no subject
"Only one way to find out." She sounded less eager, and more cautious. Then again, she's always been mortal. Skilled, but prone to injury if not careful.
"An electric hammer is a strange weapon of choice. It puts a stun rod to shame." Absently, she imagined how helpful such a weapon and/or power would be in Kijuju against the parasites.
no subject
"Hmmm? Well, I have a battle mallet, and a waraxe, Both are useful for different things. And the battle mallet is an honored weapon for those who have taste."
He chuckled.
"Both are forged of Uru metal, making them very tough."
that face is perfection
"For those who have taste?" Her eyebrow lifted and she couldn't help but counter with a bit of playfulness, clicking the tip of her tongue on the roof of her mouth in chiding. Clearly the sorts of weapons he wields wouldn't be suitable for her build and style of fighting.
"There's far more elegance and skill in ranged weapons."
Neither of them are biased, of course.
Re: that face is perfection
He reached back and pulled down Mjolnir, tossing it up and catching it, feeling the pull of it. "That said, all things have their place. And their proper wielders."
He grinned. "I know a man who can make a shield do more than most men with guns and arrows could dream of."
no subject
"Most, meaning not all," she pointed out while observing how he handled his hammer, noticing that there's a deep knowledge, intimacy even, there. It reminded Sheva of her bow. There's no doubt in his earlier claim when he fought with this battle mallet.
"We can agree then, that accuracy and skill are firmly in the limb of the wielder?" She expectantly glanced his direction while side-stepping a rock in the path.
She hummed. "Would he best you in combat? I'm trying to picture it..."
no subject
"Aye, in most cases. Magical items do help, as does fine craftsmanship." He nodded again. "Otherwise, aye."
He cocked his head as he clambered over a larger log, and hopped down. His whiskers twitched as he considered the idea.
"It depends on the day. And the battle. He has not yet, but could he? Mayhap. He is a mighty warrior."
no subject
"Magic doesn't exist in my... World, I guess." This multiverse, not that she knows it's that, still baffled her. "Just technology. We have a problem with biological weapons too."
Shorter as she might be, the young woman hoisted herself up and over the log. She's just a human, but the added feline part of her made up the difference the exhaustion depleted. A chilly breeze brought out a sudden shiver as they continue forward, the smell of snow furrowing her brow.
She smiled. "All it takes is one time. Do you smell that?"