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graveyardsmash2022-01-14 03:47 pm
ryslighelpers) wrote in graveyardsmash2022-01-14 03:47 pm
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.
no subject
[She gave a small shrug, relaxing slightly. This guy didn't seem to be a danger, despite his overall... weirdness, but she liked to think she was pretty good at being able to tell when someone was an actual danger to her.]
Do you want to try and find a way out of here? This place is huge, I've been wandering here for a pretty long time already.
[She looked around, scratching the back of her neck with her free hand.]
I'm not sure, but I think I've been hearing someone digging graves, maybe they could help us?
no subject
[He sighs, and looks away, out into the dimness.]
I do not know what I want. I am afraid to find what lies beyond these stones and open tombs. [I am afraid to see in the light what I have become.] This place is drear and dark, but there are worse fates than this.
Nor am I sure that I wish to meet the gravedigger of so accursed a ground. Yet I suppose our options are few.
Are you armed? My sword is gone, and my bow too.
no subject
[She gave a shrug, then patted her pockets down to see if her swiss army knife was still in the pocket she remembered putting it into, before her memory cut out to being buried alive in a shallow grave. When she realized it was gone, she made a face, shaking her head.]
I used to be, but I guess whoever put us here had a mind to take away the pointy things. Though, in a pinch I suppose the lantern could make for a half-decent mace?
[She gave the lantern a light mock-swing, though cringed when the handle she was holding it by made a painful creaking sound with the movement, and she quickly held it still again to avoid damaging it and potentially having the light inside go out.]
Or not. Guess it's a bit more fragile than it looks.
no subject
In any case, I should think that light may yet be valued more highly than arms. We must hope not to find ourselves in a pinch.
[He sighs, and reaches up to raise the hood of his cloak as the rain begins to fall harder. Not that it makes much difference, cold and wet as he already is.]
Which way, lady?
no subject
Hm… I’m not sure going back the way I came would be the greatest choice, though I pretty much just chose a random direction to go in. Ugh, if I had a compass I could at least know where north is, and without the sun I can’t exactly try the old stick-in-the-ground trick.
[She made a small sound of annoyance when the rain picked up, looking up at the sky as though to say ‘why?’ before pulling the lantern closer, holding a protective hand over the top of it to hopefully prevent any water from leaking inside and extinguishing the flame. She was also beginning to regret not wearing something with longer sleeves, the cold droplets causing goosebumps on her arms, shoulders and neck.]
no subject
Unless I miss my guess, northwards is the way you came. Though if so, we are nearer some northerly coast than I have ever been. The air has a salt tang.
Do you need my cloak? You look cold.
no subject
[She wrinkles her nose slightly, briefly reaching up to wipe the hair off her forehead and out of her eyes, blinking the raindrops off her eyelashes.]
Cold? I mean, sure, but this is nothing! This isn't even the worst rain I've walked in, just... the worst rain I've gotten lost in, I suppose. But! The sooner we get out of here the quicker we can get to somewhere dry.
[She was blabbering, even if just to try and ignore the stinging cold biting into her exposed skin and soaking through her clothes and leaving her chilled to the bone within mere minutes.]
Th- There's usually a church that comes with graveyards, maybe there's one around here somewhere. Besides, if I took your cloak you'd just end up freezing too.
[She clenched her jaw to keep it from chattering, tightening the hold her hand has around the handle of the lantern to try and keep the feelings in her fingers.]
no subject
I am dressed for battle; you, for a summer's stroll. And I have lived in the wilds long enough to be prepared for the cold.
Take it, I beg, if only for my sake; for I am ashamed enough that I did not offer sooner, and I would fain think myself a better man than to let you struggle needlessly against the chill.
[And he does have a point: although his armour is light, and more consisting of leather than metal, what he is wearing under his cloak is much more waterproof than her clothes.]
[He holds the woollen cloak out to her, careful not to expose the drier side of the cloth to the rain.]
What is a church?
no subject
Alright, alright, since you’re being so nice.
[She wasn’t even being sarcastic with that. Progress, what a concept. She carefully put on the cloak, taking care not to accidentally drop the lantern in the process.]
[She paused when he asked what a church was, the look she gave him being of the slightly incredulous variety, blinking a few times before she remembered to respond.]
A… place of worship? Big stone building, stained glass windows, big altar at the end? Shelter too, in this case. I’d even take a rickety old shed at this point.
[The last sentence was added more as a mutter to herself, tugging at the hood now over her sopping wet hair, brushing the strands out of her eyes.]
no subject
[But as this graveyard does not much resemble those of Gondor, and as she seems more familiar with its style, he is satisfied to defer to her knowledge on the matter. The important thing is that she foresees shelter, and not the kind that must be taken in the houses of the dead.]
Is there some direction that is likeliest for such a church? In Gondor, we build towards the West, most of all in holy things - if your land's worshippers have some such tradition, then we may at least take a bearing from that.
no subject
I’m not sure we have anything that specific for churches - at least nothing I’ve heard. Still, west is as good a direction as any, I suppose.
[She glanced at the supposedly north-facing moss, then turned on her heel to go westwards, only to almost slip on the mud already forming below her feet, though managing to catch herself before she fell face-first into the muck. Close one. She silently cursed her shoes for not having much of a profile to provide any sort of grip in the wet dirt and gravel.]
no subject
[He moved instinctively to catch her, then straightened - relieved and embarrassed in equal part - as she caught herself instead. It was hard to know how much help to offer; he had no desire to insult her, after all.]
[Clearing his throat, he pushed his wet hair back from his face again, following her towards the west, careful as he walked to shorten his strides so she could keep pace.]
Where is it you are from? Your speech, your dress, your churches - all are strange to me, I fear.