graveyardsmash | JANUARY/FEBRUARY TEST DRIVE

Entry tags:

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

[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.

[Bethan, for her part, just rolls her eyes. If there's one thing she hates, it's people stammering and getting all tongue-tied just because they see a little blood. Newsflash, idiots, sometimes people bleed.]

[It's probably just as well Angela's here, for the shopkeeper's sake. It means Bethan doesn't actually have to say any of that; she just lets go of the other woman and goes to lean against a shelf instead. Shelves can't judge her. She can put all her weight on shelves.]

If you got a first aid kit, that'll do. And if you don't, you ought to, that's just common sense.

I'll take a bottle of whatever's cheap and strong, too. [Because honestly, after the day she's had, she just wants a drink and a sleep. The injury can take care of itself. Probably.]

[ Angela spares a glance to Bethan, not offended but somewhat stern. Asking for more means they must give more in return. Nothing is for nothing.

...But... Technically, it's Bethan who's asking for the liquor. Not Angela. And Bethan presumably doesn't adhere to the same rule that the Angels instilled in Angela from childhood.

This is fine. A loophole. ]

Yes. I will take the first aid kit, and repay you at a later date. And she will have the bottle.

[ The shopkeeper, a cowardly man who doesn't want to stir up any more violence than has already taken place, nods and heads into the back room. Angela prowls through the store, appraising everything she sees. She finds a wooden stool behind the counter and brings it out to where Bethan is leaning against a shelf. ] You should sit.

Repay? I've got a credit card. [Bethan looks at Angela, and she looks... hurt? Angry? Maybe even a little betrayed. Still, after a moment's hesitation, she takes the seat, collapsing into it more heavily than she means to.] You didn't think I was just gonna steal?

I'm not a criminal.

[Well, okay, technically she's a criminal. But only with laws that don't matter, like the ones against actual bodily harm.]

Ah. Hm. [ Angela frowns. ] I did not mean to imply... You said you had no coin.

[ There's a reason Sera complements Angela so well. It's because when Angela opens her mouth, she says the absolute wrong thing about 80% of the time. Sera is the wordsmith. Angela would be happy just to hack and slash monsters for the rest of her days, never interacting with another sentient being. ]

My apologies.

I mean, I don't. I've got an overdraft.

[She softens a little, not least because she's starting to feel too tired to hold up her usual level of fury.]

Listen, it's fine. I just...

It's fine.

[ Angela opens her mouth to say something further, but just then the shopkeeper reemerges, arms laden with the items they asked for: a bottle of whiskey for Bethan and a (hopefully well stocked) first aid kit. Angela will have to ask what an overdraft is later, for now the more important task is opening the first aid kit and seeing to Bethan's wound. ]

Here, hopefully we can stem the blood loss.

[Bethan's more concerned with the whiskey. She opens it with blood-slick hands, not without difficulty, and knocks back a healthy mouthful. It burns on the way down, and that helps bring her back to herself, at least a little.]

You know first aid?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject