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graveyardsmash2021-11-12 01:40 pm
ryslighelpers) wrote in graveyardsmash2021-11-12 01:40 pm
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.
Sam Winchester | Supernatural (S8 Canon Point)
Ugh...
[what hit him? he's not sure. last thing he remembers, Abbadon had knocked him across the church ... he'd heard and felt the clapboards splinter, but he hadn't thought he'd gone down. Sam scrubs a hand over his face and blinks his eyes open to find grey sky and bare branches. outside? how did he get outside?]
Crowl--
[the demon's name dies on his lips as he sits up and realizes he's not outside that ramshackle little chapel anymore. Sam looks down, pulls the sleeves of his flannel shirt up, and inspects his forearms. there's no telltale glow, none of the strange effect that going through the first two Trials had given him. had he finished it? did he just not remember? he felt surprisingly fine. arching his back, he let a few vertebrae pop, then turned to try and push himself to his feet. once he was up, there was no missing that gravestone.
Sammy's jaw hung open for a moment, his brow furrowed, before he gave a little tilt of his head and hauled himself up out of the grave.]
... not again. ... DEAN! DEAN!
2: THE HUNTING GROUND
[The uncaring strangers, the honking cars, none of that really bothers Sam. What does get to him, however, is his complete and total inability to find a phone that will connect when he dials Dean's cell phone numbers: any of them. Or Garth's. Or Kevin's, for that matter. None of the hunter numbers he's burned into his memory connect.
He's beginning to think this is the work of a Djinn or that Abbadon has found some way to get past his wards, when someone asks him about his dimension, and he realizes what's going on. Angels. Of course. Who else had ever been capable of sending the Winchesters to another reality? He answers the woman's question, then accepts the handfuls of pamphlets she offers him. He's wandering down the street, head down, deep in the intricacies of "Venom-Spitting Monsters And YOU" when one of the stranger residents finds him. It's dripping mucus from the corners of its eyes, and somewhere behind the fake wax lips, Sam can see mandibles. He's not sure what it is, but he knows it's Not Good.]
"Greasings, monster! Are you ready to fucking party?"
[Sam's hand claps down on his hip and touches an empty pocket. No pistol, no knife. Dean would punch first and ask questions later, but Sam just takes a slow step backward.]
Depends on what kind of party we're talking... [he spots someone out of the corner of his eye - lucky you!!! - and taps them on the shoulder.] Sorry if this sounds a little crazy, but are you seeing this?
3. Wildcard
[Over the course of trying to get the lay of the land, Sam decides he needs supplies, and for supplies, he needs money. First he hits up a crowded street, not proud of how he manages to pick someone's pocket with a silent promise to give something to charity later. Then he uses what little he managed to get in a dive bar across Bavan, buying a beer and enough chips in a game of poker, or maybe a few rounds of pool or darts. he'll play and hustle until he has enough for a night somewhere, so he can get his head on straight and make a game plan. until then, he might be good company. or he might be taking you for every last solar you've got. who knows?]
2
...The... Things are talking.