Ryslig Helpers (
ryslighelpers) wrote in
graveyardsmash2021-11-12 01:40 pm
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Entry tags:
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.
no subject
“No…It would be bad for the meat.” He shakes his head.
(When you were a boy you’d help your friends catch emaciated pigeons and ducks from the parks and street corners, running from wild dogs and other, larger children. You’d fatten them up with scraps and hand them off to…someone’s adult. Maybe a mother. Maybe an older sister. Maybe yours.
This much is clear. You’ve always been a crybaby, Harry.)
(Enough of this sentimental shit, are we seriously going to stand here and let THE BLUNT MAN call us weak? You could dig graves all night! All day, even!)
(No, you really couldn’t.)
(You have let yourself go. It’s a simple fact. The lieutenant pegged your age at 58, after all- and no, you still aren’t over it.)
[I’m getting over it. I’m making some real progress.]
(You are not.)
He clears his throat, scratches at the back of his neck. He doesn’t appreciate being shorter than other men. It's part of the reason why he wears heels.
“Joke, yeah…so how’re you supposed to…?” He gestures at the grave. His eyes, wide and bright with curiosity contrast his shambling appearance. “Dig?”
no subject
[it's not something artemy needs to picture. to him, that's the objective truth.]
If you dug into the ground carelessly, to build a well or prepare a grave for someone who isn't ready to die -- you would spoil the meat. The dirt, and all the life it supports. And it's a living thing, and living things retaliate when they're hurt.
[he says this about as matter-of-factly as someone describing the weather. nevermind the fact that this stranger looks all but entirely lost in thought, and may not even be listening to what artemy's telling him. at least he asks a question. maybe he's listening after all.]
That's why you need a menkhu to do it. Someone who knows how to cut into living things in the correct way. Some might have faith in me to do something like this; but sometimes, I doubt myself.
[he pauses. clears his throat. brushes more dirt from his hands. after the silence, he feels the need to justify such a bizarre statement --]
...I'm a surgeon. Mostly.