TEST DRIVE MEME: JULY

[ryslighelpers]

TEST DRIVE MEME: JULY

Welcome to the Ryslig Test Drive Meme! Below are a few prompts to get you started, but you may make up any prompt you desire! Please take a look at the navigation page for rules, setting information, and links to reserves and apps. Have fun!

SCENARIO ONE

You wake up on the beach thoroughly drenched, with your mouth full of sand. The salt water is making all the cuts and scrapes on your skin sting and the sand isn't helping. The air is slightly humid, ruining any feeling of refreshment you might have gotten from your dip in the ocean.

There are lights in the distance, but the unfriendly scent of gunpowder fills the air. If you're lucky, you're alone. If not - you might find yourself staring up into a pair of monstrous eyes or down the barrel of a local's shotgun.

SCENARIO TWO

So you've just arrived, and already some of the natives are trying to get on your good side with offers of food, shelter and other luxuries in return for hoping you don't eat them. They even have some helpful pamphlets to share with you. "How To Deal With Changes", "Alternatives to Human Flesh", "What to Expect When You're Expecting (to turn into a monster)" are all on the more informative end of the scale. There's even some detailing certain monsters, and the changes they go through. Some of these seem to have been passed down from one monster to the next.

Among these however, are some... not so helpful ones. "Bunnyipyips And You", "Axe Thief Axehounds," and "So you're becoming a Fur Bearing Trout" among others. Sometimes they have marks on them from previous readers saying they're lies, or pointing out good "jokes."

Then there are the people who aren't happy to see you at all. Glares and silent, judging stares if you're lucky, torches and pitchforks attempting to drive you out of the town if you're not. You may need a friend to help you.

SCENARIO THREE

"Seek us out," the voice whispers in your head, and before you have time to question it you've found yourself in someplace entirely alien.

Maybe it's the Fog God's ghostly town of Dyster, where exultant followers dance around bonfires and sing their praises to the skies above. Maybe it's the Fourth God's arcade, with small robots wheeling about amidst the lights and colors of old pinball machines.

Only one thing is certain: you are not alone, in this sacred place.

SCENARIO FOUR

The time has come and you've found yourself becoming a monster. Is the change instant, or gradual? Are you familiar enough with monsters to know what's happening, or is it a complete shock? Feel free to pick any monster type for this prompt, but note that you may not get the same one in game.

Comments

Dandy | Space Dandy (returning character)

[adandyinspace]

ONE

[Not everyone who finds themselves soaked on the beach finds it uncomfortable, at least not the guy who currently looks like a beached dolphin from afar. Dandy can't remember the last thing he was doing, he can barely remember what he's had for breakfast, but he's pretty sure it wasn't anything in Vandare.

He also doesn't recall anything that has to do with a gun in his face.]

Watch where you're pointin' that thing, sheesh!

[It doesn't look like his lax response is winning him any points, he's already a monster, the local gives him no sympathy. This is normally the part where Dandy would run, but his tubby dolphin tail hasn't transformed itself back into much more useful legs yet.

Cool, great.

Like the world's most stylish seal, he begins doing his best to bounce away, yelping every time the shotgun fires and just barely misses him. What gives?! Why is he even HERE?! HELP!]

TWO

Yeah, yeah, pamphlets, great- I'M ALREADY A MERMAID, SCRAM!!

[Dandy storms through the city of Bavan, apparently looking for something. His hands are firmly shoved inside his jacket's pockets as he hunches forward, trying to ignore all the humans that keep trying to appease him. Idiots... Don't they know he only hunts in the lake?

His destination appears to be a pretty large building, but it looks like no one's been around it for a looong time. The sign doesn't even light up anymore, but if you squint hard enough, it apparently reads "BooBies".

...Oh boy.]

My poor baby girl~ [Dandy presses his head against its cold, unfeeling walls, stroking it gently.] Did you miss daddy? Poor thing, what did those monsters do to you~?

[Nothing. No one did anything. HE'S the one who left. Hell, he closed it down while he was here. Why he suddenly cares about it again is anyone's guess.]

FOUR

[Ah yes, the fog, how he hates it. Normally when that shit rolls in, there's a good chance he turns into some sort of horrible giant monster, but it doesn't seem to be the case this time around.

Good. Guess he'll just celebrate with a good heaping helping of schadenfreude.

If you're changing, the last thing you probably need is some asshole mer watching the show. No one asked for his commentary, but then again no one asked HIM if he wanted to be here.]

Man, that sucks.

[...In fact, he knows firsthand how much it sucks...

There's a small grumble under his breath as his head bobs side to side, the only clue anyone gets that there's currently a raging battle inside his head that maybe he should help out.

The following groan makes it clear who won.]

So how about we get somewhere a little more out of the way? It's, like, safer...or whatever...

[He's heard people have started hunting for monster parts or something. Wouldn't want to run into one of those weirdos.]

WILDCARD

[Any other ideas? Throw them at me!]

One!

[hantale]

[Well... there's something you don't see every day.

Fran's head pops out of the ocean waters when the gun starts going off, calling out to Dandy. ]

Hey! Come into the water instead, you're a mer, right?

[ Like really, why is he just bouncing along the shore like that'll do him much good? Dandy please. The backup plan is to deal with the human if their shouting catches the gunner's attention instead.]

TWO

[goryteller]

[Katurian has never met Dandy before, and -- like many people who have never met Dandy before -- he assumes he's joking. No real person would grovel at the foot of an abandoned strip club, let alone one that's named fucking 'BooBies.']

That's a very subtle name. 'BooBies.' I like it.

[His sarcasm is blatant, mostly because he assumes Dandy is in on the joke. Har har. Look at this dump. ]

I just can't figure out what it means.

TWO

[justbeingknife]

Hey, I resent that. Never even touched your BooBies.

[ If Majima had any sense he would have made a quick right turn away from the guy getting up close and cuddly with a building. So sue him, though, he was curious. Never had visited this place while it was open, and it looked spooky and weird as all the rest in the fog, but -- ]

What's this place, a strip joint?

Two

[ilovepuppies]

[By some strange coincidence, Star's wanderings have brought her by here today. She hasn't thought about BooBies or her indentured servitude to Dandy in a while, but seeing the condition of the building brings a smile to her face. Ha! She never has to finish paying off her debt to that fishy dork now!

You know, the fishy dork who's standing right outside, softly petting the wall.]

Eeek!

[Maybe it's not too late to run away.]

Sweet Dee Reynolds | It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia

[scammin]

(ooc: responses may be slow due to international travel)

I. [The ship went down and Sweet Dee held her piece-of-shit brother's and her piece-of-shit legal father's hands under the water and she doesn't remember how anything happened after that. She didn't end up in heaven, which isn't even a remotely a surprise but is still clear evidence of cosmic elitism and injustice, and instead she ended up on this beach with wet hair in her mouth and sand in her crotch and between her toes. One of her shoes is missing, but her socks stayed put, and they're now soggy, sand-logged and encasing her feet like leeches. The first thing she does when she sits up is strip them off. They make her feel like she's suffocating.

She pinches herself to see if she's alive. It hurts, which she hypothesizes is proof that she's not dead, but then again, she doesn't know what the rules of the afterlife are. If it turns out she actually is dead, she's going to learn all the gotchas of the afterlife and then she'll move mountains to make sure she comes back to the living world just to rub it in everyone's faces. See, assholes, she told you there were no angels. Sucks for you and your shitty wasted lives praying and fearing God. Nerds.

She likes feeling vindictive and petty. It gives her a sort of emotional rope to pull herself forward on, and she uses that to drag herself to her feet and brush herself off. She spits sand. It dimly occurs to her to try and see if she can find the rest of the gang - maybe they washed up here too - but she kind of hopes that most of them drowned. Some part of her does, anyway.]

God damn it. Oh, God damn it. [She picks her way through the sand, stopping at a beached log, and then an idea occurs to her. She's probably been presumed dead at sea. "Deandra Reynolds" likely doesn't exist anymore. She may have washed up in Florida or Cuba or Hawaii, some place where no one has ever met her or could put her back in the box of a dead-end life as a waitress in South Philly. The ocean may have just baptized her; it may have washed all her failed dreams right off her skin along with that missing shoe.

God, she hopes this is Cuba. Or Mexico. She could be a great telenovela star. She's heard that there's a certain spice and drama to latin TV that white people just don't appreciate, some kind of inherent love of theater that she knows is hers. She'll have to learn Spanish, but she did at least a stint of that in high school, and besides, speaking in a foreign language is at least eighty percent overenunciation and confidence.

She hears someone approaching the log and turns to look, speaking in an accent that is so wretched as to defy the laws of translation.]

Hoh-la, persona. Yo soy- [She tries to think of a name.] -Carlotta Venezuela. Dónde estas, mi amigo?

[polkayoureyesout]

[The person approaching is mostly obscured by the fog so his wings might be easily mistaken for a poncho. He's kind of short and carrying a box, which he puts down on the sand to come over to her.]

Oh crap. Hi, I mean Hola....muchos gracias? Uh...tengo mal?

[He is murdering the Spanish language.]

Greetings, fellow youth

[hantale]

[ Another month, another batch of arrivals. It's become so routine for the older monsters on the peninsula that it's not even a surprise anymore. Nowadays, the trick is figuring out where they're going to be. Fran usually covers the coast, easily the most common spot when newcomers wash ashore.

Only one problem there. There's a lot of coast to cover and too much fog.


The sight of someone shifting and picking through the shoreline in the distance pulls Fran's attention up, beelining straight to the stranger. The soft trudging of bare feet through sand pauses once they're close enough, a pale blue-skinned figure with horns and slightly shaggy, oddly thick hair looms, bright eyes standing out a bit too much in the dim fog. Also looking quite confused, the welcoming speech they were planning on giving gets shunted to one side. ]

Don.. de? I don't know what you're trying to say. [ They pause, hands settling on their hips as their head tips to one side. ] Can you understand me? Most arrivals should...

[getmeoutofthedraft]

No hablo Español. Um... Donde esta la bibliotheca?

[His accent's very nearly as bad as hers. Also, that's pretty much his entire Spanish vocabulary gone.]

[He pulls a face - a slightly diseased-looking face, for the record, as despite his best efforts he's decaying around the edges again - and sighs.]

Don't suppose you speak English? Because God knows neither of us can speak Spanish for shit.

Dennis Reynolds | It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia

[startercar]

(ooc: tags may be slow due to international travel)

II. This is bullshit. This is beneath me. [Dennis pushes away yet another unsolicited pamphlet, this one entitled "Better Nymphs and Gardening". He doesn't want anything short of a change of clothes and a bottle of whiskey, and despite the current dire state of his salt-crusted, sand-coated attire, he believes he has the right to be picky. He's been cosmically maligned, washed up on this shore after a near-death experience in the hull of a sinking ship, and the commoners here are pushing their stupid educational materials about things Dennis couldn't give a shit about at him. He deserves better.

He hustles through the square, hunting for the nearest bar, hoping not only to find a way to quell the shakes creeping in but also to find the familiarity of somewhere dimly-lit and dingy, a simulacra of the home he's buried himself in for the last twenty-odd years. He's insecure, wondering where his sister is, figuring she's off being a dumb horny bitch rather than dead but still resenting that she's doing it without him. He wonders where his friends are, unsure how to navigate the world without the familiar heads to shit all over.

All these well-meaning people trying to bribe safety out of him are just getting in between him and the sweet oblivion of a fifth, but after a moment, he stops and considers the situation. They're asking for something he can give. They're begging for something.

He has power.

He has so much power.

An ugly smile lights up his eyes before it reaches his lips, and he turns to look at the pamphlet another bustling local is shoving at him. It's almost serendipitous how apt it is. "Vampires: Glamours and Seduction". He picks it from their hands.]

Oh, now this looks interesting.

[pawntakesking]

I wouldn't take it too thoroughly on face value.

[The young man who's stopped to give him that warning is tall, slender, and oddly monochromatic. He also has featureless white, glowing eyes, which might be a little disconcerting, especially since the way he moves make it clear he can see just fine.]

[He seems friendly enough, though, cool and clipped attitude notwithstanding. He even offers Dennis a small smile and a nod.]

If you want information, I would recommend you go to the source.

this is happening

[marcato]

[At a glance, Aunamee doesn't look like a monster. He looks like an eccentric gentleman wearing far too much white, his face obscured by an elaborate glass mask. There's something almost unnaturally smooth about how he moves, like he's an illustration of a person rather than the real deal. ]

Don't grow too attached, dear stranger.

[He's referring to the pamphlet. He can't see the title from where he's standing, but he knows allure when he sees it. ]

You never know which form She'll choose for you.

[ianvs]

[Strickler had been handed the same leaflet only moments ago, and had been reading it in affected bemusement. He looks up as he hears Dennis, arching his eyebrows.]

I wouldn't be so keen if I were you. The lack of sunlight, for starters. And all that garlic... Italian would be completely out of the question.

[Look, he's been a teacher for decades. He's practically obligated to be unfunny.]

Mordred | High Noon Over Camelot

[drawingnear]

[1 | Arrival]
[Water. Mordred has rarely seen so much water in one place - he has a vague memory of the flooded hydroponic sectors, of raiding them as a child, but even those have started to dry up in later years, as the heat has grown and grown. This water is different, too. Tastes of sweat and tears, not the brackish, metallic edge of the water he's used to.]

[The sand is different to anything he's ever seen, too. No rust or steel; it's a warm gold, and he sifts it slowly through his fingers, wondering, as he raises his head...]

[...and freezes, because everything else might be unfamiliar, but the barrel of a gun looks much the same wherever you are.]

I don't mean you any harm. I don't want to hurt you. Please. I don't know where I am.

[And once, he would have left it at that. Once - only a few hours ago - he believed in peace. That was in another lifetime, though, and now his hand is creeping down to where he hopes his pistol still hangs at his hip.]


[2 | Bavan]
[He walks through the town in a kind of fugue state, a slight figure in a patched shirt and jerkin. He takes the leaflets without looking at them, without really thinking about it. His mind is on other things.]

[Mostly, his mind is on the way his teeth are chattering. Despite the warm July weather, he's visibly trembling, his arms wrapped around himself. He's never been anywhere so cold in his life, and he's still damp from the sea, so he feels like all the warmth is being sucked out of him somehow.]

[At last, he grabs for a passer-by's arm, apparently unbothered by whether they're human or monster.] I need... a coat. A cloak. S-s-something. Is it always so cold?


[3. | psych I added an extra prompt]
[There are plenty of corpses in Ryslig. Half-eaten ones, ones whose soul has been sucked out, ones abandoned by the monsters who killed them. And Mordred is so cold.]

[He didn't kill this guy. But you'd be forgiven for thinking he did, since he's squatting with the corpse at the edge of Bavan, a hunting knife in one hand, moving with quick, economical movements to skin the body and trim the fat, carefully tossing the scraps into a pot which sits on top of a roaring campfire. Watch him long enough, and you'll see him pull out a needle, thread it with sinew, start to stitch the skin into a kind of simple coat. Every so often, as he works, he reaches over to pull a strip of human jerky off the string he's stretched over the fire, chewing thoughtfully.]

[Of course, it's not unusual to see morbid things like this. But it is a bit unusual coming from someone who still looks entirely human. Maybe the hunger just came on really... really early?]


[4. | Demon]
[The changes, when they come, come dramatically. It starts as a burning itch under the skin, maddening and painful. The heat mounts, faster and faster, as Mordred begins to shed the motley layers of cloth and fur and skin that he's piled himself in against the cold. When he's down to his undershirt and jeans, that's when he realises they've begun to smoulder, a deep red glow oozing from under his fingernails and eyelids.]

[He makes it most of the way through Bavan before he begins to scream, smoke and sparks rising from his crackling skin.]

3.

[ianvs]

[Now, this is interesting. Human isn't to his own tastes, but he doesn't feel any remorse for the poor unfortunate who appears to have fallen victim to the young man. It occurs to him he perhaps should, but it isn't as though he had known him.

By now he's aware of what this place is, and how it changes people, but it still surprises him to see someone being so blatant, especially while still appearing human.]]

That's very impressive.

Jack Spicer | Xiaolin Showdown

[monkey_wrench]

I}

[Waking up outside in an unknown place covered in scrapes and bruises, was not an entirely unusual occurrence for the teenage villain by this point, if anything it had become an increasingly alarming trend for him over the last year. The smell of gun powder and muddled angry voices in the distance were also getting to be a somewhat familiar thing to wake to now.

After coughing up what felt like a lung full of sand and seawater he struggled to push himself up out of the lapping waves. His mind felt muddy and murky, unable to bring up any memories on how he'd gotten here, but he moved according to what instincts he'd built up from situations like this. Get up, get up and move before you can be snagged or crushed or drowned, or for crap's sake, before you lose again.]

Oh, what the-? [ Staggering to his feet the first thing he noticed is that he has none of his usual gear, in fact outside of his sleep shirt, goggles and PJ bottoms he's got nadda. He must have fallen asleep in his lab, and somehow got dragged here.] Come on! Are you kidding me?!

[Incensed, he childishly kicks up the sand with a snarl before he starts irritatedly trying to brush sand off himself and ring as much salt water out of his top as he could. All the while muttering snappishly to himself.]

Stupid monks, stupid showdowns, this is getting ridiculous, even for us. How's a budding evil genius supposed to get the proper beauty sleep if you're stealing me out'a my-

[The sound of a gun being cocked drew his attention. Looking back up the beach an unfamiliar figure was cautiously walking down the sand. A rough looking older guy; at a glace, he almost could have mistaken him for Klofange with a shave and slightly more modern clothes. Any other details about him were overlooked the moment he caught on to the shotgun firmly pointed at him. Not a taser gun, or Wu, or some other magical hunk of junk, a freaking shotgun.]

Whoa!

[Panicing, Jack put his hands up, trying to back up only to stumble back into the water. Tripping over the rockier sands of the water's edge he loses his footing and lands back in the lapping waves. Barely managing to push himself back up on to his elbows, a shadow falls over him, the gun-toting stranger giving him no time to recover before standing over him, weapon still distressingly aimed down at him.]

Whoawhaowhoa! Look, I-I didn't mean that evil genius thing, man! I'm just a kid, whatever's going on I had nothing to do with it! [Maybe. Probably. He's pretty sure he didn't this time.] I swear! I don't even know how I got here!

IV} [Goblin]

A- transformation

[This was nothing like the kinds of transformations some of the Wu could magic up. Even at their worst they had really only stung or ached for a brief moment. Maybe gave him a killer of a headache after using it too long. This was something else entirely.

Everything hurt. It was bone-deep. A feeling that had built up like a bad migraine that had somehow managed to spread everywhere. Sitting slumped against a shop front, he didn't handle pain well even on the best of days, and now, after hours of this building presser finally coming to a crux, tears ran down his cheeks as he pressed the heels of his hands against the sides of his jaw in a vain attempt to stop the feeling of his teeth revolting against his mouth.

It was a week attempt, his arms ached just as badly, if not worse, and he gave up with a frustrated snarl that devolved to a sniveling whine. Clunking his head against the brick wall at his back, he screwed his eyes shut and tried to just ride it out, but then, it got worse.

He could feel the bones in his arms spasm all the way up to his shoulders and horrifyingly pressed up and out against the skin on his elbows and shoulder. Sudden jagged protrusions threatening to rip their way out through his flesh.

And with that, a shrill scream fills the street, loud enough to be heard from the next block over.]

B- walking hallucinations

[It might start with a feeling of being watched, the sound of footsteps skitting around in the thick fog, or something rustling around in a tree above. Maybe it's possible to catch a glimpse of the culprits form in the fog, but it's gone as quickly as it appeared. And then, something else appears.

Something that shambles out of the fog or possibly comes darting out of if at full force. And that thing, is straight up just a horror movie monster.

Yep. That sure is a Jason Voorhees look alike lumbering your way, or a very small hoard of cheesy looking zombies, maybe a tiny possessed doll comes screaming toward you to bite at your ankles, or if you're very lucky maybe you get something slightly more creative in the form of a collection or flying robots surrounding you from above.

What'chu gonna do about it?]

I.

[morebetter]

[Mac's always seen himself as a sort of hero figure, and all the evidence to the contrary has, perversely, fortified this self-conception. For a hot minute, he envisions a scenario where, only having just dried off from the beach and wearing a set of clothes he hasn't even had time to chop the sleeves off of, he roundhouse kicks the shotgun aimed at some innocent teenager into the surf, and a bunch of people who weren't even on the beach straighten up to salute him. Or applaud. Somehow adulate him, with whoops and hollers, to affirm the way he already knows he is.

The fantasy is a far cry more satisfying than the reality, where his attempt to roundhouse kick the shotgun just ends up with him flat on his back and a shell firing off into the sea. Both the local and the teenager are completely unmarred, as planned, but rather than a badass one-liner all that escapes Mac's mouth is a whuff of air as he hits the ground.

The local gives him a flabbergasted stare, then raises the shotgun again, loading it as he decides between focusing his attention on the soaking-wet teenager and the wannabe hero who's only slightly less fresh off the boat. Mac scrambles to his feet, and the local cocks the shotgun. Mac decides to deal with it the same way he does most threats.]

Oh, huh. Yeah, bye.

[And he starts sprinting away.]

Walter Strickler | Trollhunters: Tales of Arcadia

[ianvs]

Two

Eat you? Of course I'm not going to eat you. Have some sense, man, for goodness sake.

[Unfortunately the man who'd handed him the leaflets whilst blathering senselessly has already taken his leave. Strickler grumbles to himself, pretending to look at the leaflets as he scrutinises his soft, pink, and fleshy hands. Nothing to fear here. He's definitely human, which is also definitely wrong. He'd lost this form mere weeks ago, and while he doesn't want to complain... it shouldn't be possible for him to have it back, much less find himself trapped within it.

And then there's the issue of precisely where he is. It's not Arcadia. It's not anywhere he's familiar with for that matter. He thought he'd heard Vandare from the man who'd handed him his leaflets, but that isn't helpful. Maybe it's time he actually gave them a read.]

"So you think you might be a troll"...?

[He laughs nervously, eyes darting around in case anyone else is paying attention.]

What nonsense. Everyone knows trolls are nothing more than a myth.

[Maybe the man had known somehow, which wouldn't be such an issue in Arcadia these days, but here...

Here it could be.]

Eyes excitedly-

[noasark]

[Know what cats are great at? Sneaking on people. They don't even have to try. You just turn around and...

Cat! ...To be fair this one is closer to the size of a grey hound, and has wings, a lengthy buggy tail, and...a human face...but!

Cat!]

Trolls? Oh, quite real I assure you. The chances of being one however.... [The primarily cheetah-like manticore hums, waving a paw as one would a hand before holding it out to shake.] About one in twenty-one, given other species.

Noa Kaiba, by the way. [His cheshire smile grows into a grin that would reach ear to ear were he still in possession of human ones.] Welcome to Ryslig.

[adandyinspace]

Yeah, no, that one definitely ain't real.

[Eavesdropping may not be polite, but Dandy was never one for manners. Whether or not he actually believes what he's saying is also up for debate, it's not like he hasn't been here long enough to figure out which monsters are the real deal.

But his memory's garbage, so who knows.

Either way, he stands behind the older man, leaning forward as if trying to catch a glimpse of the pamphlet himself. He doesn't even seem to catch the irony of a merman calling trolls fake, especially in a place like this...]

Unless we're talkin', like, the internet or something.

[clawscall]

Don't know about that.

[She tilts her head, a sly smile at her lips.]

Maybe I'm looking at one?

Jean Pierre Polnareff | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure

[fireclock]

I

[If you happen to be walking near the beach on this damp, dreary summer afternoon, you might overhear some pained coughing and spluttering coming from behind a rock formation. The coughing eventually dies down and after a brief pause, it's replaced by a loud, empassioned ramble.]

Oh?... If you were planning to kill me, you at least had the decency to wait until I came to. That's pretty admirable. There's a brief pause occupied by some shuffling and another wet, hacking cough.] Well, I'll welcome it! It will be an honour to fight you and take on whatever you've got. Allow me to----hrrgk!?

[The voice abruptly cuts off, interrupted by a gunshot and a loud, pained grunt.

If you go to investigate, you'll find a young man staggering backwards and gritting his teeth in pain. He's bedraggled, but strikingly dressed (not to mention handsome), and he's openly balking in a state of disappointed shock as he stares after a young fisherman clutching a shotgun and desperately fleeing the scene. He's feeing. Who shoots someone and then just runs away? What a shitty thing to do.]


II

[Or if you happen to be wandering around town later that very same day, you might run into Polnareff sitting on the curb. He's looking a little better than he was this morning, having fixed his hair and treated his gunshot wound, and is currently pouring over a pamphlet entitled, "So you're becoming a Fur Bearing Trout."

After a moment, he heaves a long, dramatic sigh, folding up the pamphlet and turning to look up at the nearest person---who just so happens to be you.]

Hey...

[He gives you a contemplative frown, intently peering right up into your eyes as he thrusts the pamphlet towards you with a pointed, and almost aggressive flourish.]

How can this fish breathe if it's got fur in its gills?


WILDCARD

[[If you have a cool, exciting idea, go for it!]]

II

[peccatore]

[Marco is the nearest person because, of course, he approached with the intent to help. Which it looked like he was in the clear to do, until the stranger actually voiced his question.

He sighs heavily.]

It...

[It doesn't breathe, because it's not real. Of course. Or so goes Marco's immediate thought - but the thought doesn't get to leave his mouth fully formed, because it's soon interrupted by a series of other thoughts. They pass him by, being reflected on the brief Face Journey that he goes on: they're not real here, but can he say they're not real, period? The pamphlets in Felfri were different. The pamphlets in Felfri mentioned monsters that were real here and not there. What if Felfri has fur-bearing trouts?

WHAT IF THE "JOKE" PAMPHLETS THEY HAVE HERE WERE INTERDIMENSIONAL STRAGGLERS ALL ALONG?

When Marco speaks up again, he sounds less exasperated and more... mystified.]

I don't know...

Ford Pines | Gravity Falls | Yet Another One

[sixfingeredstan]

TWO

[Ford Pines is standing in the middle of the sidewalk, soaking wet, and arguing with a human and shaking a pamphlet in their face angrily. To someone who doesn't know him, this behavior might be alarming. A big ol' red flag, if you will. If, however, you somehow are unfortunate enough to know Ford, you'll recognize this as a typical interaction. He thinks he's just engaging in friendly discourse.]

You absolute lunatic, Bunnyipyips are crepuscular!

[Exasperated, he turns to the nearest...person? Monster? Either way he doesn't look fazed.]

I'm right, of course. Please tell this gentleman he's gravely mistaken.


THREE: Dyster

[Ford isn't really one, these days, to follow mysterious voices in his head. He isn't. Really. He's learned his lesson.

Which is why he's in Dyster, watching with fascination as a group of Fog followers does an elaborate bonfire dance, chanting in tongues he either can't hear correctly or doesn't understand. His hand itches for a pen and notebook, itches to anthropologize this like a researcher observing an untouched civilization.

Except one of the followers has spotted him, and is grabbing his wrist and trying to tug him into the circle. Ford turns red, sputtering.]

No, no, I couldn't. I'm...not much of a dancer.


WILDCARD

[PM me to come up with something or hit me with your best shot!]

two

[darthfanboy]

[...is this a monster? He sort of looks like one given that mask. Though it ensures a total lack of expression, the stare he gives to the two bystanders and the pause before he speaks says a lot.]

Your petty dispute is of no concern to me, old man.

Kirika Kure | Puella Magi Oriko Magica

[clawscall]

One

[Something was terribly Wrong. It wasn't even that she was alone. Kirika couldn't focus on that for the moment; she'll have to sit down and think about what to do late. No, it was the fact that she noticed something was off when she stood up.

Her hand goes to the belt on her skirt. She feels it, bends over slightly to make sure... then gives out a shout.]

U...usamaru! How--

[She turns on her heels, looking over sand and water. Then drops to her knees, pushing away sand trying to find something. Eventually, she finds it.

She picks the small stuffed animal up. That doesn't stop her talking far too loudly.]

C'mon, why'd it have to fall off again! If I lost it here then how could I go back? I'll be more careful! I'll have to find a treasure chest--no, a safety deposit box! Man, maybe a laundromat first? Or maybe just a sink? But what if I leave a stain? Agh! That's no good at all!

[This might take a while.]

Two

[Kirika looks at another pamphlet. For once since she's washed up on this foreign shore she's been rather quiet since the locals have been handing her these. Her posture is tense. Then she crumples up the pamphlet and shoves it back at the poor local.]

Nah, do you think I'd fall for that? Man, I'm outta here.

[Monster. That word lingers in her mind for far longer than it had any right to.

She's-- No. Unimportant. So what if it was true? It didn't change anything at all. Even as she starts walking away she stops.]

Hey--I gotta question for ya! Hey, I was talkin'! Come back!

[She's fast as she grabs the arm of the much taller local. Her smile is still present but it's not exactly pleasant.]

Four-Werewolf

[The fog coming in might have sent some of the new arrivals into hiding but not Kirika. It didn't really change her behavior aside from hunting knife on the bench beside her. Maybe she should leave the open but honestly? She's hungry. Not for flesh or anything stupid like that. She leans against the back of the bench, munching on whatever sweet snack she managed to steal from a local store.

She pause as she hears something in the distance.]

Seems like someone's hunting... ew. [She sniffs the air. Blood. It's an all too familiar smell.] Man, that's something I'll never get used to.

[She tilts her head, just like a dog as she hears someone approaching her.] You can smell that, right? Someone's sure making a mess.

Wildcard

[Got an idea for another thread? That goes here or just message me and we can think of something.]

4

[ilovepuppies]

[Snacks at the beach? Star is totally there, whether or not Kirika wants her to be. She perks up and sniffs at the air as well, but harpies don't have the sense of smell a werewolf has.]

You sure about that? All I smell is this yummy chocolate!

[And she scarfs down the rest of her candy bar.]

Raphtalia | The Rising of the Shield Hero

[broken_sword]

[One]

[When Raphtalia wakes up, the first thing she notices is the stinging across her skin. She flinches, whimpering a little as she sits up. And she's... covered in sand? She looks around for Naofumi, feeling a ting of fear when she doesn't immediately see him. Did he... did he think she was useless and left her?]

Master Naofumi...?

[That's about all she gets out before she finds a gun pointed in her face. Her eyes widen in terror.

And she screams.]

[Two.]

[A dazed and confused girl with doglike ears and a fluffy tail walks through the streets. There's an iron collar around her neck, and iron cuffs around her wrist. She notices some of the unfriendlier natives giving her dirty looks - not something that was out of the ordinary for her. Demi-humans were not really liked by humans. She's trying her best to not make eye contact with anyone, but despite her best efforts she keeps finding people trying to shove pamphlets at her.]

Um... t-thank you. I don't need anymore-

[And she finds herself with an armful of pamphlets, all of them confusing and strange.]

[ilovepuppies]

Ooh! You got a fur-bearing trout one! Can I have it?

[Some strange half-bird, half-teenager is all up in your business suddenly, pawing at the pile of pamphlets.]