TDM: SEPTEMBER/OCTOBER

[ryslighelpers]

TDM: SEPTEMBER/OCTOBER

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 in a dark ditch, the sky cloudy overhead. Dirt cakes into your cuts and scrapes. The air is clammy and damp, and it smells like rain.

You’re in a grave. And when you sit up to inspect the tombstone marking your spot, it has your name on it. Maybe the graves next to you have the names of familiar friends, family, acquaintances. Not all of them are open like yours are. RIP.

There’s a light dancing in the distance, and you hear the jingle-jangle of heavy keys, or worse still, the gravekeeper’s massive pitchfork or shovel. If you're lucky, you can sneak out beyond his notice, and get out alone. If not - you might find yourself on the wrong end of a shovel’s swing, or worse yet, tripping headfirst in front of a pair of monstrous eyes.

SCENARIO TWO

So you've just arrived, and you’re surrounded by an incredibly odd group of natives. Some of them wear elaborate headdresses that resemble a deer, or a horse with seaweed instead of a mane, or a ferocious cat. All of them are covered in tattoos and piercings, and their clothing mirrors their ‘beast’ of choice, from snakeskin boots for the snake-people to cowhide and leathers for the minotaurs, manticore-kin, or kelpie-kin. These people introduce themselves as members of the scouting team for the Tågevalgten, and they’re here to help you settle in! They load you onto a rickety old bus and take you into Town.

The Town is called Rota, according to the rusted road-sign. And the central lodge is all decked out and ready to go for a reception, Children of the Fog welcome. There are food and drink aplenty, mostly meat-heavy, and if you ask them where the meat came from… Well! Maybe you shouldn’t ask.

The Tågevalgten gladly share helpful pamphlets for you. “Embrace Your Fog-Given Gifts,” they proclaim. Most of them are fashioned to sound like self-help with a religious bent favoring a divine entity called the Fog God: “Monster Types And YOU: What Fits Your Personality? Take Our 99% Accurate Quiz Inside!”, “Shed Your Human Skin And Thrive,” “Be Uniquely You And Uniquely Free,” “What to Expect When You're Expecting (to turn into a monster).” There's even some thick books carefully cataloguing certain monsters and the changes they might go through. Some of these seem to have been passed down from one monster to the next.

After awhile, it’s clear that the Tågevalgten are a bit too friendly and enthralled with buttering you up. In fact, it’s clear that they don’t want you to leave their fold, happy to keep you strapped together with a kumbaya around the campfire. They might not let you go until you take a bite of their Soylent Green or accept a group hunting trip with other newbies, and so on and so on. There’s always some excuse.

Maybe someone else can help you out of these uncomfortable pickles and get you away from here.

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? Does it fit you, or does it feel incongruous with your nature? Feel free to pick any monster type for this prompt, but note that you may not get the same one in game.

Comments

[ibalsamina]

[The creature that comes to stand before her automatically registers as Pokémon—something Mightyena-like, with a posture resembling that of a Lucario. In a sounder state of mind, she might have fawned over its uniqueness and certain rarity—but any frightened creature would bite, she knows, and when this one raises up its paws, she sees that they end in long, black points that send a baser part of her mind into a beastly panic.

Just as she’s preparing to throw something—anything at it, to give herself a chance to flee—it speaks. The voice, distinctly youthful, triggers a strange impulse in her brain that is at odds with the panic; she shudders, but makes no attempt to fight or run.]

Oh… Oh, but don’t you…?

[It’s then that she notices that the creature is wearing clothes. A trainer’s Pokémon? She squints, almost cross at the possibility.]

Then—… what is it that you want…?

[dead_eyed_wolf]

[Oh, she was absolutely about to throw rocks at her, huh. She can't really blame her, Mukuro almost stabbed the first monster that had caught her by surprise.

Mukuro looks away, trying to lessen the pressure and avoid staring like an aggressive dog. As intimidating as she is, she really isn't trying to be. She may not be exactly fond of strange adults, but she isn't the type to go out of her way to hurt people who don't deserve it. Even if only because they're not worth the energy.]

I was just - exploring. People turn up here sometimes.

[Her eyes slide back to the strange woman, calm and flat. Might as well just be honest. Whether this is a newcomer or an especially weird native Bavanite, it's the same either way.]

...If I were hunting you, I wouldn't have talked to you.

[ibalsamina]

[Lusamine stares. The tumble through dimensions had already left her thoughts scattered, and this nightmarish development is only more difficult to wrap her head around.

What had she been doing, just before this? Where had she been? Distantly, she remembers a blinding light and the horrid agony of being rent in two, then the girl—Lillie, your daughter, a thread of rational thought supplies—and the dancing shapes of her beasts fading away into nothing, dissolved like sugar in water.

Had they returned, then, to Alola? Or could this be elsewhere? People turn up here sometimes, the Mightyena-thing said… Regardless, it certainly isn’t her paradise.]

No… I suppose not…

[Cautiously, she begins to extend a hand toward Mukuro’s face, as if to offer it up for her to sniff, or to pet her—but Lusamine halts halfway, shaken and unsure. Still, it is at least clear that she, like Mukuro, does not want to be seen as a threat.]

What… What may I call you, sweet creature?