Ryslig Helpers (
ryslighelpers) wrote in
graveyardsmash2022-01-14 03:47 pm
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Entry tags:
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.
ii
But when then he draws closer, he hesitates. If this is another member of the RCM, as he so suspects, he's unsure if he'd want to approach them in this state. Sure, his teeth are hidden behind his scarf, his ears are hidden under his hair, and he's tucked his tail under his new trench coat. But they might think him to be a faker, masquerading in another officer's jacket.
He's about a foot away when he recognizes that silhouette, and his heart sinks in his chest. He tries to slink away before the man registers that Kim is standing a bit away, but it's too late--satellite officer Vicquemare seems to have noticed him, if the outburst is anything to go by.
Kim coughs, his clawed hands tucked firmly into his pockets. In a low voice, he replies:]
It's...definitely foreign, to say the least. They have local jails here, as well as local municipal courts. It seems to operate well enough for those who have lived here long-term.
[It's only after he's spoken does he realize that he didn't necessarily have to answer Vicquemare's outburst. If the satellite officer sets his eyes on Lieutenant Kitsuragi, he'll be met with what looks to be an extremely bundled-up RCM officer--but still, very recognizably Kim Kitsuragi. He clears his throat, distinctly uncomfortable.]
....Officer.
no subject
The glasses help, too.
He wasn't talking to anybody in particular as much as he was making his presence known (loudly, and with force), so getting an actual response does surprise him to begin with. His mind catches up to him eventually, and his brows knit together in intense thought. Lieutenant Kitsuragi, unmistakably—but there's something else going on, isn't there? There has to be some reason why he's here: either of them. His instinct upon seeing somebody he nominally knows is to unload his frustrations expeditiously, but this is Kitsuragi, and he can't very well leave a bad impression. (Don't tell him.)
Besides, Kim might have some helpful intel if he's been here any longer than Jean has. It's in his best interest to be polite, reasonable, and to-the-point.]
What the hell are you doing here?
[Yeah, right.]
I thought I'd fallen into the fucking sea and washed up onto some unknown isola where everything is backwards and they don't have the Wayfarer Act. [He takes a deep breath.] And the monsters, or whatever. But I'm going to assume that's not the case, if you wound up here, too. Where's Jude and the shitkid?
no subject
I could ask the same of you. I wish I had a definitive answer.
[The lieutenant's voice sounds a little like he's talking with marbles in his mouth. The damned tusks take some time to get used to.]
If Officer Minot is here, I haven't seen her yet. [He shifts his stance slightly. The scarf is slipping slightly, and he doesn't quite know how to fix it. He begins tilting his head down to try and catch up with it.] As for Detective Du Bois...he's around.
[He's being cagey on purpose. Gauging Jean's response.]
Approximately two months have passed since we have been brought here--the detective and I. What's happened since then?
no subject
And where is Detective Du Bois? Passed out in his own excrement in someone's basement? Never mind, I don't want to know.
[He does want to know; it shows in the way he leans in closer, almost imperceptibly. There's more alarming details than even a Harry left unattended, however.]
Fuck do you mean 'two months'? I just saw you in Martinaise. We left together—nothing's happened. What's happened is that—
[Jean pauses, narrowing his eyes.]
Why are you talking like that?
no subject
Two months, officer. I arrived here at the beginning of December, and it is now January. Last I remember, I was leaving with you for the precinct, and then...ended up here. As for Detective Du Bois, he's faring well enough for a man who remembers more of a life here than in Jamrock.
[Is that a defensive note in his voice? For Detective Du Bois? Surely not. A puff of breath can be seen as he exhales sharply. Quickly, he tries to take out a clawed, gloved hand and tuck the scarf further over his mouth. Hopefully, fast enough so Officer Vicquemare doesn't see.]
It's nothing. It's just a toothache.
[We're discussing more important things, is implied.]
no subject
So, let me get this straight: we left Martinaise at the same time—in the same vehicle, even—but you got to this place two months sooner? To be perfectly clear, it's been no time for me. I got in the motor carriage and woke up here.
[Jean looks pensive at that, the combination of topics not settling well in his gut.]
So he still doesn't remember anything, then?
no subject
[Maybe they all just crashed in the car on the way to the precinct and have been suffering from hypothermia in the cold, dark sea while these images flash through their minds. Frankly, Kim would find it preferable to what he's going through right now.
When Jean broaches the subject of Detective Du Bois, Kim's posture seems to stiffen slightly. His voice lowers, and a sense of earnest concern can be felt in his words.]
No. I haven't been trying to push the detective too much to recall his memories, but...it seems whatever scraps remain will take their time to resurface. If they plan to resurface, at all. [A pause.] The Harrier Du Bois you once knew might never reappear.
[He shakes his head. As he does so, he doesn't seem to notice his scarf slipping again. The tusks protruding from his lower jaw can be seen, unmistakably there and glinting in the dim illumination from the streetlamps.]