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

Aaron Corcoran | OC

[alexandercityborn]

[ i ]

[When Aaron awakens in the grave, he thinks - well, this may as well happen. After everything, it feels kind of right to lie there, face aching, and accept that this is what comes after everything else. It's at least cold earth and not the wood that had felt as if it was melting into him as the rest of the room had started to burn.

A brief opening of his eyes tells him he's outside. The stars above are unfamiliar. Not the sky of the desert he grew up in. And it feels like he should question that, like he note that that's wrong and panic - but it's quiet and he's not hurting for the first time in what feels like forever. So Aaron just closes his eyes again.

Perhaps being dead wouldn't be so bad.

He doesn't even open his eyes to whoever moves to stand over the open grave.]

Get your own hole.

[ iiii - Waldgeist ]

[It's the constant, gnawing hunger at his stomach that gets to him first. He's in pain from the way the bone antlers are trying to force their way through his skull, skin reddened where the bone protrusions are threatening to break through, but agony is an old friend, welcomed with a closed fist. Crying out means giving in to it. Crying out means it's won. And Aaron's not about to let that have a hold on him ever again.

But the hunger... It's mind bending. It grips him no matter what he does to try and quench it, and despite it his stomach roils at the thought of eating anything that's not meat. He's pulled apart more burgers to get at the patties alone than he'd ever thought a single guy could eat in one sitting.

It's with another meal that you can find him, sitting on a bench in the city's center. He's irritably pulling toppings out of a meat sandwich from the conbini, the salad items dropped back into the packaging. He glowers up at your approach.]

Can I help you?

[ wildcard ]

[want something else from the horrible little guy? slap it up here. he's hanging around looking like he's going to slap the shit out of any bugs that come close.]

I

[derletztetanz]

...I already had one, thank you.

[The voice is low, the rustle of wind through cemetery trees - but the tone is bemused at best, a little frustrated, a little curious. The figure standing over the grave is what appears to be another human, androgynous, fine dark suit marred by grave dirt. They tilt their head lightly to one side, blonde hair bouncing along their jawline, slightly narrowing their glittering blue eyes.

They're appraising the strange boy, openly, shamelessly.]

But I didn't care to stay in mine. I don't belong there. And I don't imagine you belong here, either.

[alexandercityborn]

If you're dead where else is there to go?

[Grumpy. Not impressed that he's been disturbed in whatever next hell this is after the last one. His own dark eyes are sharp, wary. He doesn't know this man and that means he's not to be trusted. He does his best to keep his face expressionless - tries to keep the wariness from setting in and being too obvious, but it's a lost cause. His mouth's already twisted into a permanent snarl from the rather fresh scar that stretches up from his lips, exposing the barest point of a canine.]

You're a different one to the usual guy. Hasn't he gotten enough from me already?

[He's outwardly hostile, but it's not hard to miss how he's pressing himself into the bottom of the grave. Out of reach.]

[derletztetanz]

That's my question, too. One that I am finding I do not know the answer to.

[With a smooth, graceful motion, the stranger sits at the foot of the grave, letting their gloved hands drop and drum steadily against their lap. They do not fault the boy for being wary - after all, they have no idea where they are, either.

Nor what could possibly have rendered them to mere flesh and bone. They don't like that part. Not one bit.

The question quirks an eyebrow, heavily painted eyelids fluttering in a puzzled blink.]

The...'usual guy'? I am not sure who you are talking about. I don't even know who you are. Haven't so much as read your headstone.

[alexandercityborn]

[The knuckles of his hand whiten. The snarl becomes more pronounced. Deliberate, now. This is the kicked stray threatening to bite if you stray too close.]

Stay back.

[Aaron knows he poses as much threat to this stranger as a hen does to a coyote, if they're what he thinks they are, but he's not going down now without making his displeasure known.]

The mirror man. The one who came through the glass. [If they aren't an associate then this will sound like the desperate words of someone who's completely lost it. He falters.] If you're not them who are you?

[derletztetanz]

[One hand flutters up to hang in the air - a placating motion, steady and sure as the undertow of a river ready to pull someone under. They do not advance further than that, remaining seated.

They can see that the young man is upset - but they think little of his babblings. Strange things exist, after all. Strange threats, strange ways to meet an end.]

I know of no such man.

I am - well, that's a difficult question. I have many names to many different people. The one they etched into my...grave here, however, is Der Tod. I woke up in a hole, just the same as you.

[Waking up is an unsettling concept, and they roll their shoulders. You don't wake up, when you never sleep.]

[alexandercityborn]

[I know of no such man.

He nearly hisses out that this stranger's a liar - everyone he's been subjected to has been just another of his faces, another mirror image of someone else. This place is just another of his tricks, and there's few things that will convince him otherwise.

Still. This stranger - 'Der Tod' - claimed to also have crawled out of the grave. There was always the... Chance they're in the same boat as Aaron. It's a slim chance. Very slim. He's not willing to trust, but... In the interest of finding out what the point of this new trap is he's willing to cooperate.]

...Aaron. Aaron Corcoran. You know where we are?

[derletztetanz]

[Like a fox in a trap, this one. Der Tod chooses to trade lightly - though the flare of their own temper threatens their calm. They don't like not knowing what's happening. They don't like not knowing where they are, who this is.

They don't like feeling pain, gnawing at them from the scuffs in their flesh.

But the only hint of any of this, for now, is a flash behind their glittering gaze.]

Well, Herr Corcoran - no. I do not. What I do know is that I have been...changed. Something is wrong, and someone has quite the sense of irony.

[A beat, and an angular smile.]

...You know, I'm not going to hurt you, if that's your concern. It's not my purpose. You don't have to lay there as if I will lunge.

[alexandercityborn]

If you'll forgive my candour, if you'd just come from having your face slit open you'd be pretty un-fucking-appreciative of a stranger being so close.

[He pulls his legs close, doing his best to stand up. Aaron isn't tall - the six foot deep grave leaves him unable to peer over the edge, the top just over his head level. But he grips the edge and pulls himself up easily enough, like the movement isn't too much for him. The scenery is definitely not what he was expecting. Aaron had left behind desert and wide, open, rolling fields, where the ranch house was the only thing for miles.

It's several seconds before he says anything.]

...What do you mean? That you've been changed?

2 (NWH spoilers likely eventually)

[certaininequities]

Actually, I was thinking I could help you.

[Norman had sized up the situation from a little ways away, and while he's only starting to turn a bit green and pointy around the ears - which he hates, thank you - he has knowledge and he's willing to share]

There's a kitchen, you know. For new folks like us. They don't charge as much as you're probably paying to only eat a quarter of what you buy.

NWH SPOILERS i'm fine w them :>

[alexandercityborn]

[The boy is sharp edges and discomfort, even before you factor in the pain of burgeoning monster changes. Norman's appearance is met with outright distrust, the look of a teenager who does not like to be near anyone that might be construed as an authority figure.]

Ain't that kind of hunger. Not yet, anyway.

[There's a wary flick of his eyes towards the points of his ears, to where his skin's starting to turn green.]

More like... A hole that won't fill. No matter what I've tried eating.

[certaininequities]

[Norman knows what sharp edges look like. He's got a few of them, himself. He holds up his hands in the universal gesture for 'okay, I'll back off' before stuffing them into his pockets.]

I get that, too. S'awful, isn't it.

[his face twists in something that's almost fear. Norman doesn't like having feelings he can't control, especially ones like this, ones right on the edge of vicious. the sort of thing that feels like it could get desperate and dangerous if he can't get to the bottom of it.]

Is that the only thing that's changed for you?

[alexandercityborn]

[Aaron watches him warily, claws shifting over the food in his hands.]

Horns coming through. I think. [The stretched red skin on his forehead is evidence enough of that.] Claws. [He grimaces.] Heart keeps... Skipping beats.

[Like he's dying. That's what scares him. If he is one of those deer things it's already too late.]

[certaininequities]

Irregular heartbeat is ... not fun. I don't have it right now, but...

[all too clearly, he remembers the hiss of the gas and the too-fast beeping of the heart monitor. the smell of aerosol and gaseous cetreonephyrn before the Goblin shoved into his brain and killed the lights, killed the panic right along with them. oh yes. he knows what it is to change into a monster]

I've been through something like it. The important thing is holding onto yourself. Not letting ... whatever is happening win.

cw blood

[alexandercityborn]

[Aaron's pale. Hurting. The heartbeat is more than likely one of the changes resulting from becoming a Waldgeist, the first icy fingers of death slipping its hand around his heart.

There's a bead of blood forming where the tip of an antler is starting to tear through his skin.]

What, one go round on the freak-o-rama not enough? Jeez. [There's an absences a he hesitantly reaches up, feeling the blood.] What are you, anyway?

[certaininequities]

I learned my lesson on the first ride. Didn't exactly choose this one, did we?

[Aaron's hit a sore spot with his snark, and he may as well have flayed it wide open. Norman wants nothing less than this "second go", and in his heart of hearts he's petrified of what it might do to him. his knee-jerk reply to Aaron's question would be 'a monster', but ... but, no. he owes it to the memory of someone to do better. two, three, maybe four someones, even. he rubs at his jaw, sore in anticipation of the fangs that have yet to grow, and fumbles in his pockets for a tissue or scrap of cloth to offer. he comes up with a crumpled Ray's Pizza napkin and holds it out]

A scientist. I specialize in biochemistry ... let's just say there were complications with a project. It's behind me, now.

[he says it with a tinge of fear, almost as though he's hoping someone will reassure him that yes, it's over ... because it's all still so fresh that he IS.]

[alexandercityborn]

I meant the whole green and pointy ears thing you've got starting now, but alright.

[He cautiously reaches for the napkin. Each finger is tipped with a heavy, black nail, thick and sharp.]

...My family were ranchers. Horses, mostly. Cows sometimes, when Daddy took a notion to hire the hands for them, 'cause Mom wouldn't let him pull me or F- my brother out of school. Not that any of that matters now. They're gone.

II

[gothicgambit]

[Celeste thought the scene had looked so familiar. A young person stumbling through a corner store with protrusions that would all-too-soon become horns. More focused on getting himself something to eat than actually doing something about the agony that had to be knocking at the top of his skull. She'd been almost exactly the same.

So the fairy trails a bit behind, her own little bento box purchased and held between two hands. He's not likely to listen to her but-]

That's not very likely to satisfy you, dear. I'm afraid you're craving a rather different kind of meat.

[alexandercityborn]

I've... Tried that.

[It's a painful admission. The protrusions hurt, yes, but given painkillers were doing little to alleviate the stretching ache of his skin he'd chosen to cut his losses and go for the things he thought he could deal with.]

Some older guy made me go to the soup kitchen place. Took the edge off that hunger, but this is...

[He doesn't know yet that Waldgeists are always hungry. That the gnawing might get better but it'll never properly stop.]

Like... trying to fill a pit, mostly. Normal to feel like you're starving all the time as a monster, or...?

[gothicgambit]

[Oh! Well that was always good. Celeste is notoriously poor at being the 'bearer of bad news' for newbies, so at least he seemed to already know the basics.]

It certainly effects some worse than others, particularly when it first sets in- [She remembered those first few weeks, when her power and hunger stretched with her wings.] But learning to control it is more important than rejecting it. I ate far more as a demon than I do as a fairy.

[She approaches just enough to stay out of arms reach, but keep a more friendly distance. Just.. in case.]

cw panic attacks / ptsd

[alexandercityborn]

[He's with her advice, listening until the exact moment she says the word: demon.

Cold fear washes over him. Terror. His hands loosen and everything drops, forgotten in the sudden panicked scramble backwards, flat against the bench.]

What do you mean "demon".

[It's flat. Uncomfortable. Barely restrained hysterics. His vision's become a tunnel, breathing moving something towards ragged.

Give the boy to me, child. Take my hand and receive release.]


What do you mean Demon?!

[It's not anger that makes him raise his voice. It's fear. Plain and simple. Obvious to literally any of the passing Bavanites who now scuttle back, away from the two monsters.]

Cw: ignoring panic attacks / ptsd

[gothicgambit]

[Oh hm, not how she’d expected him to react, though not shocking either. It was a sort of recoiling she’d missed. People underestimated her as a fairy and she wanted them to be intimidated.

She immediately dismisses whatever is happening on his end as some sort of religious trauma. A hand comes up, palm out in a show of ‘not a threat please’ and her eyes widen a touch. Though she unfortunately doesn’t seem pitying in the least. She’s also keeping a grip on her bento, dammit.]

Please do calm down. I’m obviously not a demon at the moment, nor for the foreseeable future. It simply is a monster we have here.

[she shrugs, she liked being a demon actually. Once she got over the godly implications] There aren’t many left, so you’re in very little danger from them.

Apologies, I thought you were aware.

cw still terrified but

[alexandercityborn]

[The bluntness of it is appreciated, funnily enough. Aaron's not one for fawning sympathy - it's something he finds cloying and fake. He doesn't want pity. He'd ruined his own life when he took that deal.

He gives a short sharp nod, dragging his eyes off her. His knuckles are white, claws cutting into his palms as he tries desperately to bring himself back to an even keel. There was no getting away from him, was there?]

N-no. I've been. [He swallows hard. Takes a deep breath.] Avoiding people. Keeping my head d-down.

[gothicgambit]

[Well, at least he can speak. She sees the way his claws draw blood, can smell it in the air. It echoes of her own traumatic need for control, for pain.

Perhaps they were more similar than she'd even thought. Very interesting. Once Celeste really feels he's not about to attack her, she finally sits next to him on the bench. She's hungry dammit and she's not wasting her lunch. He can freak out while she eats.]

Not a bad idea, to get your bearings.

[She opens the bento and cracks the chopsticks with practiced ease. She's keeping an eye on those horns, though. If they were anything like her own they would be messy.]

Most monsters are friendly enough. The dangerous ones make quite a show of it. [herself not included people don't take her very seriously when she's quite so small and fuzzy. Maybe it's Horatio's influence, but he always tried so hard to help the new ones. She gives him that wry not-smile]
Have you found a place to stay? There are a few, and honestly you look terrible.

[alexandercityborn]

[He tenses when she sits down on the bench, but it's soon to pass when she immediately busies herself with the bento. She's not currently a threat. He can work with that. Or at least do his best to.

...Curiously, when an antler does start pushing through the skin, there's no blood. A post-mortem injury.]

Lighthouse people set me up in one of the apartments, when they realised I ain't good with people anymore. [He looks away. Ashamed of that.] Sleep better with more doors between me an' where strangers're walking about.