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test drive

TDM: JANUARY/FEBRUARY

TDM: JANUARY/FEBRUARY

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".

Then there are the people who aren't happy to see you at all. Glares and silent, judging stares if you're lucky, torches and pitchforks attempting to drive you out of the town if you're not. You may need a friend to help you.

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.

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[ Whoever it is that he crashes into, they're solid, and when he regains his balance and turns to glare, his eyes narrow at someone's midsection. Even were he not attempting to glare, his eyes would have narrowed instinctively anyway at the way this other figure is glowing. Skittishly, he scrambles backwards, squashing a box underfoot as he goes.

Eyes scan up the person, taking note of the wings, until he meets their face and those horns. He's staring openly aghast at the figure now, horns mean one thing and one thing only but nothing else about this man looks demonic – not by his standards anyway. And here he is crashing right into this massive individual, fully human, unable even to manifest his own horns in a pitiful attempt to signal 'hey wait, I'm like you.' ]

Please don't hurt me!

[ His voice is quiet, panicked. He shrinks in on himself, makes himself smaller. A voice in the back of his head spits pathetic. Demons are not friendly, they're petty, hierarchical creatures and even if Misha has never seen one look like this before it's unmistakable – slamming into him the way he did is such a heinous insult. ]

I didn't– [ he swallows thickly, ] Didn't mean to run into you, please… I'm sorry.

[ What next? Begging? ]

One

[She didn’t remember waking up, or even realising she was buried - what she did know however is that she was currently sitting in a shallow grave of loose soil, spitting gravel and dirt out of her mouth and wiping it out of her eyes. What a royal mess she had gotten herself into this time.]

[She slowly to her feet, trying to ignore the feeling of jelly knees as she looked around the small unfamiliar graveyard, wiping at her shirt and pants in an attempt to get the dirt off of her.]

Where…

[Her voice was barely above a whisper, trying to wrack her brain about what happened when she spotted the gravestone with her name on it, her eyes going wide in shock and confusion.]

What kind of a sick joke is this supposed to be?! If you’re gonna bury me at least make sure I’m dead!

[She kicked the gravestone a few times for good measure, quietly cursing whoever did this to her.]

Two

[This new city made her head spin - the fact that people kept approaching her out of nowhere to hand her things, the weird things they told her about monsters and the like, it was all a bit much. Nevermind the people that just glared daggers at her for some reason, those reactions she was a little bit more used to but that just meant she knew she needed to tread carefully.]

[She eventually decided that she had enough, finding herself a nice secluded alleyway to go through all these pamphlets, and in truth they just made her more confused.]

These people have got to be insane, right? There’s no way any of this is real.

[She was talking to herself, running a (slightly cleaner) hand through her hair in an attempt to soothe her frayed nerves, bouncing one knee where she sat against the wall of whatever building she sat behind.]

Yup, that’s… That’s gotta be it. I’m in a coma and this is all just a super messed up dream. I’m gonna wake up any minute now. For sure.

Four - Naga

[This was awful. This was awful and she hated it, and she wanted to go home. Whatever god was out there that wanted this kind of suffering from her for whatever transgression she did by existing could go stick it where the sun doesn’t shine.
She felt nauseous to the core as she stared at the turquoise-black-red scales growing on her arms, and up her torso and her face. They vaguely reminded her of the scales of a type of garter snake she saw when visiting the zoo one time with her parents, but that brought little comfort to her now].

What… What do I do?

[Her voice was somewhere between despair and utter confusion as a pathetic little sniffle escaped her, unsure where to even begin dealing with these things that were happening to her. Her eyes were looking weird, she had fangs, and now weird scales all over her body. It was awful.]

[The boy speaks, and from the stumbling in his voice and limbs, whatever frightened him is even worse than Diavolo anticipated. He looks terrified.

Of all the days... Always something happening. Why couldn't this have happened on a day he'd chosen to stay safe and curled up in the sanctity of his own apartment?]

Th-that isn't what I...

[What I asked, he wants to say, but the boy's anxiety is palpable and infectious in its severity. Diavolo takes another glance around, noting distantly that a few people in the crowd are watching as he towers over this small human, a strained grimace on his face.

The boy is ragged and dirty, breath coming in gasps. He must have been running for awhile, frantic and disheveled, and though Diavolo cannot hear the telltale sounds of anything chasing behind, he can only assume the boy is running with a desperation sparked by death on his heels.

His bag lies forgotten in the moment, shattered glass and fabric and the crinkling of plastic. Diavolo steps forward hesitantly, bowing his head for a better look, and - they're in the middle of the sidewalk, life and traffic bustling around them. And yet the boy is frozen in place, all the energy the panic brought him knocked out at the sight of another perceived threat.

Diavolo won't get clear answers here, not when the boy is too disoriented to even acknowledge his question. They need to to move, and now - somewhere out of sight, before either of them is caught unaware. He could flee alone, he muses, and at the first sight of danger, he will. But here when the street is still quiet, knowledge is beneficial. It's far better to have a solid escape plan than to scramble in confusion.

The boy doesn't move, and so Diavolo reaches out with an unsteady hand. And he pauses, afraid that if he touches the boy, he might draw the conclusion that such contact is acceptable. With a barely-there shudder, he adjusts his aim, and his fingers find loose purchase at the boy's hood. He tugs him, trembling but unyielding, away from the intersection, away from the looming crowd, to shady shelter beside a building.]

Answer me. What's after you?

Edited 2022-01-15 10:29 (UTC)

[ Bavan still isn't a place he's used to. He's barely gotten out since he underwent his first changes; when he has ventured out, it's usually around the same general area. This is where he sees her first, a shock of dyed blue hair running away from some of those people with their so-called informational pamphlets (they're all garbage if you ask him.)

He thinks nothing of it until he spots her a second time, sitting in some dingy alley flicking through those pamphlets and muttering to herself. ]

You're not in a coma and you're not going to wake up. This is just reality.

[ Should she turn around she'll spot him leaning against the wall that marks the alley entrance, short purple horns barely visible on his hairline from where he's pulled a hood up over them. While one hand is tucked into his pocket, the other is clutching a bag and it's easy to see the dark claws even from this distance. ]

Welcome to the shit show, kid.

[ Rolling his eyes, Misha watched the girl kicking at the gravestone. What was this, some dumping ground for wayward teens? Still, pretty fucking weird that she's hollering about having not been killed properly, because he was just thinking the same thing. Idly, he paces over towards her from his own row of graves. Either there's something else going on, or it's a coincidence that the two of them have found themselves in open graves. Maybe it's not Ivan after all.]

So, [ he starts, folding his arms over his chest defensively ] there's more of us here. 'M gonna go out on a limb and guess you haven't got a fucking clue why you're here either?

You've got some dirt, by the way. Right here.

[ He points to the side of his face unobscured by his hair. ]

[She was so embroiled in the pamphlets (which were sounding more and more ridiculous the longer she stared at them), that she nearly launched herself into the air at the sudden voice from down the alley, pamphlets fluttering in the air before landing on the dirty stone below as she whipped her head around to where the voice came from.]

[Her first thought was ghost, then not a ghost. He was too opaque to be one, never mind that he actually cast a shadow rather than just... float there ominously. And then the weirdness hit her - horns poking out at his hairline, and the sharp dark claws on the one hand she could see. If the darkness was from nail polish, it wasn't from any she'd seen before.]

Who are you supposed to be?

[She sounded defensive, drawing her knees up a little further up towards her chin, one hand clutching a pamphlet she had managed not to drop in her initial start, while the other was planted on the ground ready to push her up to bolt.]

[ Christ, he hadn't meant to scare the shit out of her, he was just– Oh, forget it. At least she'd asked who and not what. One of those things is easier than the other to answer, he still doesn't know what he is. ]

I'm not supposed to be anyone. I'm like you – I arrived here last month.

[ He adjusts his hood, tugging it down a little further, stepping into the alley properly. Crouching near her he begins picking up the scattered leaflets, scanning through them as he does, making a sound of annoyance as he reads some of the titles. ]

These leaflets are mostly bullshit, just so you know. The monster thing is true though. It… happens to everyone who arrives here.

[She looked up from the now slightly askew gravestone she had been kicking at the approaching footsteps, surprised to see someone else in the graveyard with her. She had expected a ghost, the specters that haunted her like to congregate there just for the fun of it, but this guy obviously wasn't one. Too solid, and the specs of dirt clinging to him told her this was another failed burial.]

I... I guess I don't, besides apparently being buried. And since you're asking, I'll guess you don't know where we are either, 'cause I sure don't.

She wiped at the spot he was pointing to on his face, making a face when she felt the dirt smear a large stripe across her cheek down to her jaw, suddenly regretting not wearing something with longer sleeves.

I'm Rosa, by the way.

[She continued to be wary as the stranger came over to her, raising an eyebrow when he crouched near her and started picking up the stuff she dropped. Well, at least he was being nice.]

When you say arrived, you mean you popped out of one of those graves too, didn't you?

[She still had specks of dirt clinging to her clothes and skin, bits of her hair clumped together in drying streaks of brown - fresh out of the grave, one could say.]

Everyone? The people that gave me this stuff looked human enough. I think?

[She gestured with the pamphlet she was still holding, the garish title of "FIND YOUR MONSTER TYPE 100% GUARANTEED" poking out between her fingers. Though considering everything that was going on and that she was seeing, she was really beginning to doubt her definition of 'human enough'.]

[ The figure looms over him, and he twitches slightly when they glance around at the crowd – he could make a run for it, just bolt off again, but the opportunity passes quicker than it had presented itself. He's moving now, closer towards him and Misha flinches away.

He doesn't know who this demon is, what his agenda or allegiance is. It's the worst possible situation he could have found himself in, an unknown entity bearing down on him when he has no way of defending himself.

People on the street are paying attention, though none of them seem concerned enough to take any action. This isn't their problem. To them, he's just some kid no one knows, and this man? He could take out any of them in an instant if he wanted to, he is so certain of that.

Before he really grasps the situation the man is moving again, his hand outstretched and Misha panics; slaps at the offending limb for all the good it does. The man begins to drag him away, towards some distant building, and so he thrashes. Kicks his legs out at the man, scratches at his arm and hand in an attempt to get him to let go, he even tries twisting around in his grasp to bite as his hand. ]

I'm not telling you shit. Get off of me! Let go!

Graves? No… There were these little parasite things and a hive– [ okay little is an understatement, they were the size of small children. ] Look, that's not important. Everyone who arrives here. The people who gave you that stupid stuff are locals – they are human.

[ Why had he followed her? His track record with teenage girls thus far has been absolutely horrendous. Should have left well enough alone, he is not the kind of person who should be on the Ryslig Welcome Committee. He's only been here for a month and a half, he doesn't even have all the information. What's he supposed to tell this kid? Enjoy your stay, try not to get eaten by a monster before it's your turn to change into one?

He spots the paper she's holding and yanks it out of her hands. ]

This one's the worst, don't bother.

[ With that, he stands back up, straightens his spine and looks down at her sitting there sadly on the ground. Can he just leave her like this, wouldn't that be cruel? What would Bucciarati do in this situation? He's really not prepared for this in the slightest. Groaning, he begins unwinding the scarf that's wrapped around his neck and tugs it out from his jacket, awkwardly holding it out towards her. ]

Listen, if you have questions I can do my best to answer them, like I said I just got here. [ a pause, as he thinks it over. ] But I'm not doing it out here. It's fucking cold.

[From terrified to petrified, and now the boy flails and lashes out in hopeless desperation. It's a pitiable cycle of emotion to witness - and it's a cycle Diavolo knows inside and out. He barely looks at the struggling human, too preoccupied with taking frenetic glances every which way to catch sight of the danger before it catches him - and there is his mistake. The looseness of his grip and the bagginess of the hoodie work against him, and as Diavolo stares into the eyes of a passing mother who holds her child's trembling hand tight and close - the boy in his grasp wiggles and twists his head with sudden violence. Blunt teeth dig into the flesh of Diavolo's hand and he hisses in pain, his fingers twitching with the shock, but it only serves to make his hold tighter.

He pulls the boy along further now, not the gentle guide he'd initially intended, but a yank, all force and nerves. His other hand finds the collar of the boy's muddy t-shirt and he holds him there, too, not to choke or to frighten but to please keep him still in this growing disaster. It's an awkward angle - he has to hunch to keep comfortable, and it only makes scanning the surroundings harder.]

People are staring! [He accuses, his voice still low, his eyes still darting.] I am trying to get us out of here!

Edited 2022-01-15 12:37 (UTC)

[The face she pulled at the mention of a parasite hive that people apparently came out of was somewhere between confusion, bafflement, and mild disgust.]

Right- Hey!

[She tried to reach for the paper the man had snatched from her hand, though that just ended with her uselessly waving her hand in the air. Goosebumps immediately broke out on her arm as a cold wind blew through the alley, and she pulled her arm back, holding it close to her chest so she could avoid the cold some. Shit weather for a shit day, what a combination.]

[She pouts slightly, arms crossing and glancing down, not quite deciding if she was being petulant or just frustrated. She looked up again at the sight of a scars in her peripheral, now surprise on her face rather than teenage petulance. She looked back and forth between the man and the scarf being held out towards her.]

Th.. Thanks.

[He wasn't weird - okay, he was weird but not like a bad weird! She could deal with normal weird. And she liked to think her gut feelings were pretty accurate when it came to gauging if other people were trouble, and she wasn't getting any hostile vibes from this guy. She took the scarf, pushing herself off the ground as she put it on, patting the dust off her back and thighs. She just made another face at the dirt and grime now covering her hands again though.]

My name's Rosa, by the way.

[She knew she should be worried that she was following some random stranger about a town she'd never been in before, but at this point she'd take anyone to show her the ropes in this exceptionally strange place.]

[ 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.

[ ii ]

[The bundle of new clothes is appreciated, though the woman handing it to him is flinched away from when she tries to place a hand upon his shoulder in reassurance. He hates the way a lot of these people look at him. Too eager, too excited to please someone who's going to become a monster that stalks among them.

He doesn't want any part of quid pro quo to avoid being eaten. He doesn't want any part of anything here. He's heading back to where he's been staying when he spots the man following him. Angry eyes, hand in his pocket. Something about it makes the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. It's bad news. He's not here for friendly intentions.

Aaron makes more of an effort to get ahead of the man, intending to duck into an alley and wait for the man's attempt to jump him, or to dodge out of view. He's looking back over his shoulder when he runs straight into someone else and stumbles, catching himself on the wall before shooting them a sharp look.]

Might want to go. Guy following me.

[ iv ]

[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]

[reach me at talloran]

Edited 2022-01-15 14:43 (UTC)

You'd be guessing right, I haven't got a clue. I thought I knew, but now… Well, I'm not so sure. Anyway, you can call me Misha.

[ He chews on his bottom lip and studies her quietly. She doesn't seem like a threat, seems like she's just as confused to be here as he is. If the two of them are here, what are the chances of there being others? Backing away from her and her apparent grave, he eyes the shadows in the distance with a frown. Trying to figure out how to get out of this place is probably going to be difficult with how dark it's getting. ]

Hey… Do you see that?

[ Pointing off into the distance, between some trees there's an odd glow bobbing up and down. Squinting at it, it takes him a second to realise that it's probably some kind of lantern and that the movement is likely because someone is carrying it. Friend or foe, though, that's the question. ]

Hm? See what- Oh... That's weird.

[She cocked her head some as she studied the light Misha had pointed out, eyebrows furrowing. Ghost orbs it was not, but a lantern it sure as hell was.]

It could be the person in charge of the graveyard, they might be able to tell us something. Or a grave-robber if you want a less cheery option. What do you think?

[She glanced over to Misha before looking at the lantern light bobbing through the trees, trying to see if she could make out the figure attached to the lantern, but not having much luck due to the trees obscuring her vision together with the encroaching darkness.]

If it's the latter or something, I have- [she patted her pockets, then looked annoyed.] Correction, I had a Swiss army knife. Not anymore apparently.

[Since he'd gotten here, Aaron had thought he had a pretty curated list of things that were incredibly agonising. Thrown from a horse? Hurts like hell. Kicked by a horse? Hurts like hell. Face slashed open and permanently disfigured by a demon? The worst thing he'd ever felt.

That was until the spikes of green and black gemstone had started forcing their way from his back and from his jaws in the form of tusks. He's stumbling through the park, a trail of the occasional shed tooth in his wake, when he practically runs into Muriel.]

...A saw? Hardware place. Maybe. Might be one on main street. Why?

[When the shovel swings back Aaron grabs for it, pulling the shovel to a stand still. The man is bigger than the teenager, but he's not about to let him attack a younger girl. The man yells for him to let go, snarling, but Aaron grips it tighter, pulling it back with a grimace, his split apart lip moving painfully.]

Asshole, pick on someone your own size!

[With a twist, he's able to twist it from his hands, and raise it threateningly himself. He jerks his head at the girl.]

You okay?

[When she had crawled out of her grave had the unfortunate fate of running into the gravedigger, who had promptly come at her with his spade. She had ran - of course she did, she was outmatched in weight, height, and equipment. Running was easier for her anyways.]

[She had hid behind one of the bigger gravestones, quietly nursing the forming bruise on her forearm where she had fended the offending spade off, but froze when she heard not one, but two sets of footsteps. Then the distinct sound of metal-on-skin, and then... a voice?]

[She peeked out from behind the gravestone, head just barely poking out. Her eyebrows immediately shot up at the sight she got - a man taller than most she had ever seen (quite the feat considering where she grew up), holding the gravedigger up by his shovel.]

Wow...

She hadn't even realized she spoke out loud, a little too busy being amazed by the sight she got after having just been scared out of her wits.

[The man who has chain-smoked several cigarettes while poring over the leaflets is addressing anyone unfortunate enough to be close enough it seems, or perhaps he'd have avoided the bristling teenager with fresh stitches in his face irritably thumbing his way through What To Expect When You're Expecting (To Turn Into A Monster). The question amuses him enough not to lapse into shitty silence, though.]

What part? The bit where we're all going to turn into monsters or the bit where it's the fucking fifties again or whatever?

Oh-!

[She knows that voice. She knows that voice. Before the pitchfork can come swinging her way, she disappears behind the boarded up doorway. And she sees him. She saw his grave in the graveyard, covered up and she thought the worst. But here he is alive and seemingly okay.]

Tio Bruno!

[She just rushes him in a hug. Sorry Bruno, she thought you were dead.]

Maybe you're turning into a mermaid?

[Is that... a thing here? She's not sure, she wasn't expecting to turn into a plant.]

When I got here, I was told we'd all turn into some kind of "monster". I didn't believe them, but...

[Well, look at them. Mirabel's got green skin, her hair is curly vines with flowers blooming all over her head.]

[Mild surprise is about all he has the energy for when the strange boy pulls himself out from the hole in the ground. Of course it's bad. Who ever had a good day where they woke up in a grave?

Aaron hasn't even fully pulled himself out of his yet. Instead, he's sat with a hand pressed to his face, attempting to stem the flow of blood from the unhealed cut in his face. There was not being dead and then there was still actively bleeding.]

'Course it's bad. People don't end up in graves for good reasons.

[Faramir's lips thin, and there, again, is a flash of something close to anger behind his eyes. Not aimed at Muriel, perhaps, but there nonetheless.]

[It passes, and is gone, and he sighs, and there is something more like pity in his expression.]

No. Only those who choose to be. And if you have walked only among men who made such a choice, then I am truly sorry for it, but it is not so.

[ Misha's head snaps around to the sound, searching for the source until he finally spots it: someone is sitting in a grave. He's immediately suspicious of the stranger, how can someone so casually remain where he is? ]

I didn't realise anyone else was here…

[ Keep his tone as even as he can, he still sounds cautious. Besides, ending up in the grave isn't the thing that's bad – it's the idea of who put him in the grave that's bad. Or that he may still be out there, lingering, just waiting to finish the job properly. ]

How long have you been there?

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Page 3 of 32

TDM: JANUARY/FEBRUARY

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Rosalynn "Rosa" House | Original

One

Two

Four - Naga

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two :3c

one.

Re: two :3c

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Re: one.

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Aaron Wojciecowski | OC

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4

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One

ii

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i

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