TDM: NOVEMBER/DECEMBER

[ryslighelpers]

TDM: NOVEMBER/DECEMBER

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

You've stumbled your way out of the graveyard, and you're promptly besieged by the overwhelming sights and sounds of the city. Cars honk at you to get out of the street, and strangers try not to look in your direction for too long. They see your dirty clothes and scraped faces, and pretend to busy themselves with something else. Rarely, a look of pity is cast your way.

But some people try to reach out. Enterprising citizens and those that hope to curry favor with the newcomers pass out new clothes and bundles of food, asking if you have a place to stay the night, wondering about the details of the world you came from. Some are even handing out pamphlets which vary in how helpful they are--"What To Expect When You're Expecting (To Turn Into A Monster)", "Wolpertinger: Fact or Fiction?", "100% ACCURATE MONSTER QUIZ ASSESSMENT: GUARANTEED TO PREDICT YOUR MONSTER!", and "Ryslig Law In A Nutshell".

As you wander from street to street, you come to realize that some of these people seem...off. If you draw close enough to look at them--really look--you'll be able to observe certain uncanny features. A misshapen eye socket that looks more like an insect's compound eye, skin like a loose bag that seems to fit poorly over their own musculature, a backwards hand that seems to function as normal, and, of all things, an opaque mucus that seems to drip from unseen orifices.

Not only do these people look strange, they act strangely, too. One can be seen drinking a cup of whole coffee beans. Another chews on a piece of rubber tire as if it were a stick of gum. A man dressed in a full-body trench coat seems to writhe as he sits and reads a newspaper.

If any of them notice your approach, they immediately stroll over to enthusiastically greet you. When they speak, a droning buzz seems to emanate from deep within their chests. They smile and stare unblinkingly, talking in obscenity-riddled, disjointed sentences.

"Welcome! It is almost a season! Are you ready to fucking party?"

"What the shit! You're monster?"

With time, more and more of these people begin to shuffle towards you in an almost swarm-like fashion. Lose one of them, and more show up around the corner. They're eager to ask questions--most of which make absolutely no sense--and they won't be easily dissuaded from their goals.

Maybe you should run. Or maybe punch one of them. Surely, that won't cause any problems.

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

2

[boneshears]

[The bugs have emerged from Kulen.]

[He can't say he appreciates their skin suits, the too-loose costumes that sag and fold in all the wrong ways, too long fingers like oversized gloves when they gesture and reach for the things they're offering the new arrivals, like cups of coffee beans, or newspapers from years long passed.]

[But one isn't so new, is he? One's ridden this ride before. One's met with a terrible fate once again. The towering cat grins before he follows. He knows that carapace. They've had a conversation before. And unpleasant one.]

[Why not continue that trend?]

Hello, Daniel. [Like this, he takes up the alley's mouth, wings spread.] Fancy seein' you back.

[downdowndown]

[He doesn't recognise that monster. Does he? The voice is familiar, but the features are all wrong, too animalistic to match anyone he's seen before. He steps backwards once again, his wings stiffening as his eyes search for an exit.

If he's lucky, he may be able to dart upwards.

But he's never been very lucky.]

Who are you? What do you want from me?!

[And then, his voice blooming into anger:]

If it's revenge you're after, you can't have it!

cw threats

[boneshears]

Oh, little Daniel. Did our conversation not take? I hate to have to issue reminders.

[He continues shifting closer. If Daniel tries to fly upwards and away, he'll have the massive cat in hot pursuit, brain sparking alive with the thrill of the chase.]

Revenge? [He laughs, low in his chest. A deep rumble. In the gloom of the alley the beginnings of his glow creep in, red gleaming from his wings and yellow light from his eyes.] Daniel, if I wanted revenge I'd have broken every single one of your little fingers in that prison cell when I came to say hello!

[He doesn't stop approaching.]

This? This is just for pleasure.

[downdowndown]

[The prison cell! So many people visited him in that prison cell! The trauma has melted them all together in his mind, an amalgam of furious faces and snarling teeth.]

I've suffered enough already!

[He made that decision back at the grave, his nails caked with mud, his eyes wet with tears. His lower left hand clenches and then relaxes, forming deep red faerie dust between his fingers.]

I-If you come any closer, I'll be forced to act!

cw: threats of violence lmk if this is ok?

[boneshears]

Then act, little bug. Give me even more of a reason to see how pretty that chitin'll look split open.

[He's grinning. Clearly enjoying the fear. He doesn't even hesitate in his approach.]

[Light begins to slowly, slowly fade from Daniel's alleyway. Like the sun's been swallowed. The only light in view is at its end: past Gabriel and back to the street. The manticore's markings take on a low glow, making sure he's silhouetted by the light of the markings on his wings and the bioluminescence of his tails and fur.]

Tick tock, Daniel.

OF COURSE

[downdowndown]

[Little bug. It reminds him of Lucius, those words, and it makes his heart dance inside his chest, the very organ threatening to spill out from between his ribs. His fingers curl up so that he can throw the faerie dust. He doesn't need to aim -- he just needs to get it close enough -- and if he acts quickly, he --

He --

The darkness falls. The faerie dust scatters to the floor, his fingers boneless. What was he doing? Was he planning to fight? How can he fight if his limbs won't stop trembling? If his teeth can't stop chattering?]

W-What can I do?

[It's a plea, his earlier defiance gone.]

What can I say to make this stop?

[boneshears]

[His fingers let the dust go loose from his fingers. It was a curious choice for Gabriel, though he admits he doesn't know if Daniel's paid a trip to Mana in his previous time on the peninsula or even gotten the little brat to juice it up. At best, tactical sand that'd have him relying on sound, rather than what sight he has left. He's almost disappointed he won't find out, even if he'd already been pushing his luck this month.]

Ask nicely. Already real rude that you can't remember people's names.

[He moves within arm's reach.]

Ask real nice and I'll even turn the lights back on.

[But he doesn't say how.]

[downdowndown]

[He wracks his brains, desperately trying to decipher the feline face in front of him. He does remember a manticore visiting, but what was his name? What was his--]

M-Mr. Morgenstern!

[He's sure that's it, and his victory at having uncovered the name almost overwhelms his fear. Almost. His body feels like it's about to sink into the ground, his knees trembling and quaking.]

Please don't hurt me. Please bring the light back!

[boneshears]

[He grins. It's all teeth, but first and foremost are the curved ones that jut below his jaw, nearly a forearm in length.]

Doctor, actually.

[He's true to his word. The light will return. After it's released in one singular, bright burst from him, the markings on his wings flaring blindingly bright.]

[downdowndown]

[He gasps, breathless, doubling over as the light floods his system. It's so strong that it makes his eyes sting, and he blinks back half-formed tears, his breathing uneven and raspy.

He drops to his knees, his fingers shielding his eyes. The tears come in earnest now. He wails. ]

I just want to go home!

[boneshears]

[Now there's something that warms the dead little recesses of his heart. Terror. Pain. What is a cat if it's not chewing on the insect's wings?]

Yes, because that worked so well for you last time. You know...

[He leans down, practically having to bend double at his Fog form's height.]

What does it say that you're back here, and so many people that'd be excited to see you back here again have gone? I just think that's interesting. Something to remember.