graveyardsmash | JANUARY/FEBRUARY TEST DRIVE

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test drive

JANUARY/FEBRUARY TEST DRIVE

TDM: JANUARY/FEBRUARY

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Angela has been robbed. Of her strength, her ability to fly, and of her weapons. She is not happy about it. But, that does not mean she is not still a warrior. She can fight, and she will, rather than accept the information about her fate here which has been given to her.

She leaps down into the alley from a rooftop, a whirlwind of gold armor and red hair. She's aimed her jump to land on top of one of the men cornering the young woman--the one with the knife. She tackles him to the ground, wrapping a strand of ribbon around his neck to choke him. He struggles, but Angela has the upper hand in both size and technique.

She kicks the knife out of his hand and it skitters across the alleyway towards the young woman it had just stabbed. ]

Can you fight? Because now would be a good time.

[Can she fight? Even shocked and wounded, Bethan bristles at the question.]

Thanks for the advice. [Her voice is thick with sarcasm.] Never would've thought of that.

[When it comes to technique, she's a lot less elegant than Angela. Less of a warrior, and - despite her relatively skinny frame - more of a brawler. With one hand over the bleeding wound in her side, she launches herself full-force at one of the remaining attackers, headbutting him in the face hard enough that his nose lets out an undeniable crunch. Now it's the men who are off-balance, and Bethan, fuelled by a rush of anger at having her skills called into question, makes short work of her opponent - a knee in the groin, an elbow in the throat, and he's down, groaning through the bloody mash of his nose.]

[Bethan stumbles back, breathing heavily, and stoops to pick up the knife, eyes on the remaining attacker.]

Don't talk down to me, okay?

[ Good, so the girl can fight. Her style is wild like a berserker, but then... Angela recognizes such passion. It is only through centuries of training that her own fighting style became more polished and refined. She still lets out a guttural yell as she picks her quarry up and throws him to the ground, untangling her ribbon from around his neck once it becomes clear he is unconscious.

Angela stands, stepping behind the remaining man to flank him. No matter which way he turns, he will find a pissed off woman more than ready to give him hell.

To the girl, Angela asks, ] Why were these men attacking you? [ A cooler headed person might have thought to ask that before joining the fray, but Angela has never been described as cool headed. ]

Didn't exactly stop to ask.

[She lifts the hand a little from her injured side to look underneath, grimaces slightly, and clamps it back down. Now that two-thirds of her assailants are down for the count, and the third looking less and less like a threat, she's beginning to let her guard down - at least, as much as she ever does.]

[She hefts the knife thoughtfully in her hand, taking a step closer to the remaining man. If she was on her own, this is where she'd be forcing some answers out of him before calling the cops. But the other woman's intervention has left a sour taste in her mouth, almost as much as the nagging sense that she might actually have needed it. It makes it hard to summon up much energy to care. She's too busy fighting down a horrible sense of embarrassment.]

I didn't need you to step in, you know.

[ The man, for what it's worth, seems to understand that the odds are no longer in his favor. He isn't running yet, but he backs up half a step when Bethan comes closer, nearly colliding with Angela, stood sturdily at his back. ]

Perhaps. [ Her eyes pointedly flick down to the wound in the young woman's side. ] Perhaps not. You can repay me later.

[ Every action has its price. So, she was a little rash in jumping in to save the day. She may or may not have a soft spot for other women. Now that she knows the girl is not a helpless damsel, she will expect recompense. ]

Seriously?

[See this? This is exactly why she doesn't work with people. The truth is that she's got almost as strong a sense of debt and duty as Angela, but that's exactly the problem. She's spent her whole life trying not to owe anybody anything, and now this?]

Listen, lady, I didn't want you in my business, I didn't ask you to help, and I don't owe you shit. So you can fuck off.

[Her hand flashes out to grab the man's collar, smearing her blood over his clothes in the process. It's hard to see against the black leather of her jacket, but the bloodstain is still spreading there, too.]

And you can tell me why you came after me, and maybe you can leave with nothing broken.

[She's speaking to him, but her eyes - narrowed and flinty - are still fixed on Angela. This doesn't feel like a fight any more, not when it's two against one. That means she doesn't get to beat the shit out of him, at least not without becoming the bully in this situation. Which means that's another piece of catharsis that's been taken away from her.]

[When he mumbles something about monsters - something that doesn't fully make sense to her - she screws her face up in disgust and shoves him away, letting him make a break for it. Then she leans - well, actually, more like collapses - up against the wall of the alleyway, folding her arms.]

If you're seriously going to make me repay you for fucking up my day, I'd rather do it now, thanks. I don't do later.

[ This one has fire. Angela likes her.

The man runs off like the coward he is, and the girl collapses, succumbing to her injuries. There must be a way to rectify this situation that doesn't end with her bleeding out in an alleyway. A warrior deserves better than that. Angela considers this, then steps over the unconscious form of the man she strangled with her ribbons, and offers the girl her hand. ]

In exchange for my aid in driving off your attackers, you can accompany me to a clinic. I will consider your favor repaid, if you can assure me you will heal.

[ Unconventional, sure, but then Angela never did follow convention. ]

My name is Angela. I mean you no harm, and only wish to see a fellow warrior survive.

[Bethan looks at the proffered hand with narrow, suspicious eyes.]

I'm a fast healer. I'll be fine.

[She also doesn't have any money for a doctor. And she really, really doesn't want to see one. Even if her powers really are on the fritz somehow, it's only one wound. How hard can it be to stitch up a cut and slosh some antiseptic on it?]

[And yet...]

[It's charity. It's pity. But it might also get her off the hook, now Angela's said it would count as a favour repaid. She can swallow her pride for an hour or two, if it means she doesn't have to worry about owing Angela something down the road.]

[Also, she realises as she unzips her jacket and looks down at the stain on her sweater, this is actually quite a lot of blood.]

[Dropping the knife, she reluctantly takes Angela's hand, pulling herself upright again.]

Bethan. What's with the bikini?

[Look, sooner or later she had to ask, okay?]

[ Angela stops short of carrying Bethan out of the alley, but allows her to lean her weight on her if needed, walking as slow as Bethan needs to in order not to exacerbate the wound.

Speaking of the wound. ] This place has robbed me of my natural durability and strength. [ Among other things. ] You may not heal as fast here as you usually do.

[ Thus, finding a clinic. Surely a city as large as this has need of a healer of some sort. They should have no trouble finding someone who can tend to Bethan's wounds... Right?

At the question, Angela looks down at her armor. Her lips twitch with the threat of a smile. ]

It is my armor. I know it is not considered... conventional, by some societies. [ She's gotten plenty of looks from Earthlings and others before. More prudish societies who think women shouldn't walk around with no pants on. ]

I take it you are from Earth? [ Judging by her style of dress, her manner of speech. ]

[A thin, bitter smile twists Bethan's mouth. So she really is just a normal person here, huh? If she'd known that...]

[Well, let's be honest. If she'd known that, she'd probably have done exactly the same, just without losing her cool when it happened. It's not like she's invulnerable. She's fought through serious injuries before, she's just never had to worry about treating them.]

[She shakes her head, wiping her bloody hand on her pants, and tries to focus on staying upright and not putting any more weight on the other woman than she has to. No point in showing weakness if you can avoid it.]

Yeah. Yeah, I'm from Earth. Didn't know there was another option.

Anyway, it's not about convention. What's the point of armour that only covers your tits? At that point, fuck, just wear a sports bra.

There are several other options.

[ Ten Realms, plus the myriad other planets not connected to the World Tree. Angela has seen a great deal of the universe in her travels, and yet this place is still foreign to her. ]

But I am fond of Earth. I lived there, for a time. [ Seven blissful years that passed in the span of an instant. ]

I have worn armor with more coverage, but I prefer freedom of movement over protection. Normally, I am durable enough not to have to worry.

[ No stab wounds for the Asgardian. Though now that she is here, and more vulnerable, she may have to reconsider that position. There is merit in knowing one's weaknesses. She makes a mental note to invest in better armor when she comes into some coin. ]

Normally, so'm I. [She looks down at her side again, and grimaces. It's probably just as well she's not likely to run into her brother here. He'd fuss even worse than this woman.] Couple layers of leather doesn't hurt, though.

[She's quiet for a few moments, focusing on walking, her forehead creased in thought.]

I'm guessing you don't know why we're all squishy all of a sudden?

Leather... I will keep that in mind.

[ If they hadn't worked out their deal about going to the clinic, she would have accepted the suggestion of leather armor as repayment for her services.

Angela allows the silence to stretch out, keeping her eyes peeled on the businesses they pass, searching for any sign of a healer's office. A temple, or a hospital, something to that effect. ]

I have been told it is a god's doing. [ Her tone of voice conveys exactly how much she likes the idea of being a god's plaything: not at all. ] The same god which brought us here seeks to depower us and then turn us into... monsters of some kind.

[ It has something to do with the strange fog which rolls in and out of this land periodically. Angela doesn't know the details. She was too busy vowing not to bend and break to this god's whims. ]

[It isn't just anger that stops Bethan in her tracks. Although there's certainly fury in the sudden press of her lips and sharp drawing-inwards of her eyebrows, the fear behind it is belied by the way she blanches, the sudden catch of her breath.]

[It's only for a moment, though, before - clenching her fist at her side until her nails dig into the blood-sticky palm - she brings herself more or less back under control. Anger is fine. Angela is allowed to see that she's angry. She can't be allowed to see that Bethan's scared.]

I don't believe in gods. And any fucker who wants to try it can get what's coming to them.

[ Angela pauses, allows Bethan to have her moment. She herself reacted similarly, though she keeps her emotions close to her chest. Angela won't presume to put a name on what Bethan is feeling, instead allowing her to dictate the tone of the rest of their conversation. ]

Good. I am glad I am not the only one who plans to fight what fate lies before us. Everyone I have spoken to here speaks as though the path is set in stone and cannot be changed. [ She grits her teeth, white eyes flashing with fury and determination. ] I refuse to sit idle and be force into becoming a god's plaything.

[Bethan looks sidelong at the other woman, who she refuses to think of as her rescuer, and is relieved by what she sees. She might not be one for allies, but it's still good to know that other people agree. That you're not the only one fighting, even if you choose to fight alone.]

[And in a case like this, against her better judgement...]

Two of us working together can burn this fucker down.

[ Angela smiles. It's always nice to meet a like-minded individual. ]

I will fight by your side to that cause. And if we require more to fight alongside us, then we will find more.

[ If this god's torture has been going on for long enough that the peninsula is populated with people-turned-monsters, Angela finds it hard to believe everyone is as complacent as they seem. ]

You sure about that? People around here seem pretty unwilling to stand up for themselves.

[Sheep. They're all sheep. You have to protect them, but you don't have to pretend they're something they're not.]

There are always those who will fight, if the danger is great enough. One need only look.

[ Maybe that's just a fact of the kind of universe Angela comes from, but whenever there is something to unite against, there are heroes who will rise to the cause. ]

[Bethan doesn't say anything for a moment, but her mouth twists as if she's tasting something sour.]

[At last, she shrugs.]

Sure. If you say so. I'm just not gonna rely on it.

No... It would not be wise to wait for numbers before taking action. We should, however, get more information as to the bonds keeping us here.

[ She pauses. They've been walking this long and Angela has no idea if they're any closer to finding some sort of clinic or healer. She looks to Bethan, concern clear on her face. ]

How is your wound?

It's fine.

[It's not fine. Her grimace gives that away, as does the blood starting to ooze from between her fingers.]

I mean, it hurts like a fucker, but it's fine. I don't think he hit anything vital.

[ Angela looks up and down the street. No signs of a clinic, but there is a sort of general goods store nearby. ]

There. Perhaps we can get some bandages from that merchant.

[ She doesn't have much for coin, but hopefully the shopkeeper will either accept something in trade or the promise of a favor. ]

[Bethan looks up at the store, considers for a moment, then shrugs.]

Hell, I don't see a pharmacy around here, so why not?

[Although she's increasingly sure that this is a bit past Band-Aid territory, and she has a nasty feeling that's all they'll find here.]

[ Angela has only the vaguest notion of what a 'pharmacy' is, but Bethan has already agreed that this shop will do, so off they go.

It's late, and the proprietor of the shop is mopping the floor in preparation of locking up for the night, obviously not expecting any more customers. He looks up as the door opens and a bell rings out. ] Can I help you ladies?

[ It's then that he notices the stain of red on Bethan's jacket, on her hands. His eyes go wide and he begins to back away, holding his mop defensively in front of him. ]

I-I don't want any trouble...

[ Angela steps forward, unperturbed by the man's show of fear. She gets this reaction a lot, only usually it's her who's the one covered in blood. Though, to be fair, it's not usually her own. ]

We need bandages. Whatever you can provide.

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