TDM: JANUARY/FEBRUARY

[ryslighelpers]

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.

Comments

Wakaba | Nogi Wakaba is a Hero

[ikutachi]

One

[ The last thing she remembers is landing on the roots, the smell of fresh earth and faint rain and her own blood, and the satisfaction of knowing everyone lived. Falling asleep. In a blink, she awakens. The smell of fresh earth and faint rain and... nothing else. Huh. An arm lifts as the immediate is assessed - bloodstains long since dried, school uniform, kind of hurts but nowhere near what it was - and that's enough.

A schoolgirl crawls out of her grave and prepares to run, but looks back at the name. Yeah, she knows those characters. Her own name. That's how the trope works. The scoff of disgust is all it's dignified. But- The grave next to hers. She knows those characters. More than she knows her own.

And Wakaba sits back down. Whatever possible fight was left has vanished, staring at that headstone. Let the gravekeeper kill her again, who cares. ]

Two

[ Compared to everyone else's reactions, Wakaba just looks awestruck. Staring at the standing buildings and other people - even the glaring ones - like someone who's living a dream. Everything about the graveyard awakening has left her mind in the wake of seeing people. People! Living people! Someone is shoving pamphlets and care packages into her hands, saying something she is very clearly not listening to, too busy staring blankly at a farmer's market that is definitely not going through a food shortage. ]

Hey. This is weird to ask, but... How are you alive?

[ The person is momentarily taken aback, quickly finding Literally Anywhere Else to be as an answer. ...Well. So much for that. She finally takes a glance down at the papers she was handed. Ryslig. What's a Ryslig. Where is Ryslig? Okay, read that one later, next is-

Uh. ...Oh no- The futile shout after the fleeing guy is immediate. ]

Wait! I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that!

Wildcard
[ ominous nier soundtrack music. Also assume I'm down for anything, hit meeee ]

two

[myrrhs]

[It's kind of understandable, poor guy. There's no way not to take that as a threat from a future monster. At best, it's kind of a grim existential question. How is any human alive here? How do human beings survive in Ryslig? Why are you alive, pamphlet man, when your aunt was drained of blood and hung upside down from a tree branch for shiggles?]

[Muriel stares after the fleeing man, too. Studying. Thoughtful. A bit like a void of presence for a guy a foot and a half taller than Wakaba; it feels like there's no one there. But there is, and eventually he does speak.]

. . . He runs fast.

[That's probably why, is what Muriel means.]

[ikutachi]

[ Well that's a jumpscare and a half. Her back hardens at the sudden presence, but nothing else. I guess outrunning monsters helps your longevity? At the same time, running was never enough. Probably isn't enough here, either. ]

...I guess being athletic might help.

[ The pamphlets get another brief once-over, looking for something specific that doesn't appear in the pages, and that's... fine. There's a lot here she'll need to unpack later. Preferably where she can freak out in private. But for now there's someone here, and Wakaba turns around to look up at the voice. ]


And up. Woah. ] Sorry if you needed to speak with him.

[myrrhs]

[Currently puzzling over the one about Ryslig law, he takes a moment to respond. When he finally looks down at her, he blinks in surprise. Not because she's small, everyone's small compared to him, but because she apologized.]

[This is a politeness apology. But apologies of any kind to Muriel are rare, so. Hard to discern, really.]

No. He was just handing me more papers.

[There's a hint of grumpiness in his tone, like he's just caught a puppy peeing on the rug again. He flaps a pamphlet in the air. It makes a whap-whap sound, somewhere in the stratosphere.]

Don't know why he did that.

[ikutachi]

[ There's a single blink at the comment about being handed papers. This man would be the main target for people handing out ads on street corners - but the smile that comes after is genuine. ]

Our situation seems common enough. Maybe he was trying to help?

[myrrhs]

[The bit of Muriel's face peeking out from under the hood twists, clearly dubious.]

Or sell something.

[As he stares down at the pamphlets in his hands, he wonders about things. The kind of person who asks about why people aren't dead, but also believes that others may want to help them. What kind of life creates a person like that?]

. . .

Are you dead? [An awkward pause.] I met someone who was.

[ikutachi]

[ She wants to defend the NPC. Surely he was trying to help. Sure. Ly. ...The words spoken in his defence already sound defeated. ] But we don't have any money.

[ This does not help the guy's case at all. Normally there'd be another attempt to rally again to protect the man's honor - but the question is enough of a curveball to make her eyes dart to Anywhere Else. Eventually they rest on her own uniform. Everything stings. Her collar is pulled back slightly to glance down, and even Muriel can get the glimpse of dark scars around her neck.

And she looks entirely unsurprised. There's a laugh here, lilting and nervous and entirely forced. ] Probably. It'd be a miracle if I lived, at least. But we're both still here.

[ So everything's fine. Totes. ]

cw suicidal ideation if you squint

[myrrhs]

[As she's examining herself, he shifts uncomfortably. He's not sorry for asking so much as that he feels it's the wrong question to have asked. It's not the sort of question people ask. When he shifts, the sound of chain links bumping together clinks in the space between them.]

[We're both still here draws a mirthless smile out of him, a thin, barely perceptible twist of his lips.]

Scars don't mean you're dead.

[And being alive isn't anything close to a miracle. He's covered in scars on every visible inch of his body, and he shouldn't be. That's just how it is.]

Do you want to be here? [Ryslig seems to suck, so far.]

throws positivity in his face

[ikutachi]

[ Metal rattles and she looks back up. That expression... she doesn't know what to do with it. Yuuna was so much better with people. Hinata too. There's an undercurrent to his words she can feel, like scythes on bare skin, just like the first time. And just like the first time, Wakaba doesn't have the words to help.

Stuff the regret down with all the others. It's fine. She'll just keep being herself. ]

I set myself on fire, so...

[ Followed by the single most embarrassed half-shrug a person has ever done. #JustSuicidalThings. Yet there's not a single ounce of regret to be found there, nor in the immediately follow-up. ] But that's not important. Whether it's Ryslig or not: every person has a right to be somewhere. I want to be there.

wakaba ur fumbling

[myrrhs]

[The look he gives her is the kind of look you give somebody on the bus when they suddenly start speaking ancient Sumerian at their own reflection in the window. Like she's crazy. Which obviously she is. Something about what she's saying rattles around in his head like it's been shaken loose. It's wrong.]

[In some way other than the obvious, that is.]

If you want to be somewhere, then don't do that.

[Don't set yourself on fucking fire. God!]

she's bad and people get vored for it, what else is new

[ikutachi]

[ Yeah. Yeah, that's about the look she expected. Still stings though. ] I know that! [ aaaaasdkfjasf

Okay. No. Stop. Okay. A breath in to gather the internal noise, and a breath out to dispel it. Find that inner peace again. Breathe in. And just like that, the rest of the words come out focused and certain; unwavering. ]

I did it for my Somewhere. And I think everyone has the right to create and protect a place they belong. What about you? Do you want to be here?

[ Paired with an expression that promises, if he acts like a butt, she will absolutely bruise his shin. Slightly. ]

[myrrhs]

[Does he believe that? No, not really. Or maybe, he doesn't think that what people have the right to do or not do really matters. The people who have rights are the people who have power to enforce them. Everyone else doesn't get a say, and thinking about things any differently is pointless.]

[He can tell that saying as much won't get him anywhere, though. One look at her face makes that clear. So he shifts his weight, the sound of metal against metal coming through muffled again, and glances off at nothing much.]

Can a person be a Somewhere?

[Asra. Asra used to be. Or maybe the apprentice. He doesn't think anyone is really his. He certainly doesn't have a Somewhere. Not anymore. He doesn't even remember it. So many of them don't remember what matters.]

[ikutachi]

Yes.

[ It's not even a question. Even now, looking at those terrible tourist handouts, all she wants is one of them here. Even just one would make it bearable.

But there are only five ghosts and one asshole. It's her, she's the asshole. ] ...I don't have any right to talk. Forget what I've said.

One

[nearamir]

[He almost trips over her. That, in itself, is a startling reminder of just how off-kilter he is; even in this rainy darkness, he ought to be infinitely more conscious of his surroundings. But his mind is racing, and the silence feels deafening, and he almost trips over her before he sees her.]

[He stops a foot or so short of where she sits, and for a moment, looks down at her, his brow creased in concern and thought. At last, slowly, he turns to look at the headstone of the open grave. The characters on the stone are neither Tengwar nor Cirth, but he finds that he can read them, even so.]

Wakaba. Is that your name?

[ikutachi]

[ Getting bumped doesn't even jar her. The grave is her name and thus it's hers, and next to her is Hinata's grave. So. She's not dead, but Hinata is? It's... not real. It can't be real. But hearing her name from a strange voice is enough to divert her attention, that lost gaze moving from the graves to lock eyes with... someone.

Yes. Someone. Him. Another person. And as long as there's another person, she has a duty to focus on. ]

I am. Sorry, I... [ No, shake it off. A hand reaches to her side for a sword that isn't there, before she staggers herself upright. ] Not the time. What needs to be be done?

[nearamir]

[He cannot quite keep the bitter smile from touching his lips.]

If I knew, then you may be assured, I would not wander so idly.

[He notes that movement, though; her hand shifting as though to a sword, just as his did when he first woke. Thoughtfully, he brushes his fingers against the empty scabbard at his hip. They have both been disarmed, then - or else she, like him, fell with sword in hand.]

I do not believe that all the graves are filled. At least, not with those whose names are upon them.

[ikutachi]

[ The bitter expression just makes Wakaba's own frown deepen. He doesn't know and no one else is here. This is already vastly irregular. Okay, that's fine, no need to panic. She pulls a cell phone out of her other pocket and - the screen has a hole smashed through it, a few blue petals falling from the gash.

Nevermind time to panic, but the stranger's words wash over her like white noise. The manner of speech is just weird enough that she has to run over the sentences a few times. He thinks the graves are empty.

... Yeah. They're empty. One tiny solace. Whether or not it's meant to cheer her up, it's how she's choosing to take it, and Faramir gets a genuine smile for an answer. ]

Thank you. [ And the destroyed paperweight is shoved back in her coat; unpack that problem with later. ] What's your name, sir?

[nearamir]

[He inclines his head a little in acknowledgement. He, too, had a moment of dread at the graves around his own - save that they could not be true graves, for Boromir's name was written upon one, and Boromir had no grave at all.]

[As well, then, that whatever brought them there made such an error. Her smile is a relief. It is the first one he has seen in some time, and he answers it with a smile of his own, though it is not a particularly happy one.]

Faramir. Lately Captain of Gondor, though whether I may still lay claim to that title, I do not know.

...What was that, which you carry? Broken, that much I see, but beyond that, it is strange to me. [And given the situation, it seems to him that any information may be important.]

[ikutachi]

Captain of...?

[ It's genuine confusion, but she can find excuses for it. There were a few cases of foreigners escaping to Shikoku's borders. Gondor might be some strange sporting club, she doesn't keep touch with that.

But... how does he not know what a phone is. He's clearly not joking. To not know what a phone is in 2017 is... absolutely insane. But she's had to accept the absolutely insane before. At least there's an easy to check. ]

A quick question first. Have you heard of the Shinju-sama?

[nearamir]

[Never in his life has he come across someone who did not know at least the name of Gondor, and the strangeness of it itches at the back of his mind, a nagging sense of wrongness. How far can he have come, or how long lingered in death and darkness, to find himself so much a stranger?]

[It is less of a surprise, then, to find that her question has no familiarity to him, either. Shinju-sama does not even sound like it can belong to any of the languages he knows, in its ring or in its tone.]

[He shakes his head, his discomfiture flitting across his face.]

Not by that name, in any case. Ought I to?

[ikutachi]

[ She has no idea where to take that bit of information. The Shinju has always been the Shinju; to be unaware is impossible. Is this Yomi? Or is she alive and another place outside Shikoku somehow survived? Maybe it's just a weird lucid dream.

Either way, the musing is dumped. She can only handle the problems right in front of her. ]

No. I think we're from different homes. As for my... uh. [ How do you even call a phone not a phone? ] ...object? It's- It was a phone. You use it to keep in contact with people and read the news and such.

[nearamir]

Fuin?

[It isn't quite right, not quite the word she said - but it is the way he hears it at first, and it seems to him deeply inauspicious. Fuin: darkness, shadow, night. The near-certain knowledge that fuin is not what she said cannot wholly keep it from seeming to him an ill portent.]

[As much an ill portent as the description, which - innocent as it is on its face - sends another shiver of dread through him. Of old, there were such magics, and among the Elves perhaps they linger; but it is not Elvish magic that comes to mind in this misty and ruinous place of death. It is, then, a reminder of how lost he is; another thing to place him off balance.]

[He clears his throat.]

Then we are from different homes indeed, for I cannot think that such a thing would go unmentioned in all the annals of the Wise. And yet, I know not how it can be.

[ikutachi]

Not quite. It's "fon".

[ And Wakaba remains silent and still as he continues to speak, and even a bit after. He's never even heard of phones, can't even comprehend them, so... Not a where, but a when? How does that even work? For as confused and lost as she is, it must be infinitely worse for him. ]

...I think a discussion is order, but not here. [ That one light in the distance pacing the graveyard is still far off and all the better he stays that way. But where to go? It's not like she knows the area. Violet eyes rest on the graves one last time, idly shifting to the names she knows are dead.

She can mourn later. Maybe there's a tall tree nearby. ]

Let's move. Tell me about Gondor on the way.

[nearamir]

[Faramir considers this a moment, then nods, his own gaze drifting to that faint and moving light. Best to avoid the watchman of this place. Best, then, to strike out in the opposite direction, and keep straight until they reach something to cause a turn, or until the rain and fog clear enough to let them see a clearer way.]

[Almost to himself, with wry and bitter humour:] At least we shall not want for landmarks.

[And he begins to walk, roughly in the direction he was heading when he approached her, glancing back and down to assure himself that she is keeping pace. Not that he is walking fast, but his legs are long, and it strikes him that she may have her own ideas of where to go.]

What would you know of Gondor? [Not because he minds answering, but because it is hard to know where to begin.]

[ikutachi]

[ There's a short laugh. Mist is a wonderful landmark and they absolutely won't get lost. ] I'm sure they have a booming tourism industry.

[ Major export: moody themed postcards. Either way, Wakaba follows without issue. She keeps pace fine, if only because she naturally walks at that Slightly Too Fast clip that people with military experience keep. No idea where she's going, but damned if she won't get there fast. ]

I've never heard of it. [ A pause, then a tentative follow-up. ] ...But I don't know much outside of Japan.

[ Aside that America exploded first, but. You know. Maybe she's just a moron and having hyper-specific school lessons means she never learned about Gondor. Maybe isekais aren't real! It's a good dream. ]