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

[pinballs]

[Kim opens his mouth to answer, then closes it again. A single eyebrow arches upwards. He severely doubts that Jean doesn't actually want to know about Detective Du Bois--for God's sake, the man disguised himself to check in on how he was, mentally. And it was clear enough that the man still held some sort of fondness towards the detective, even if it was buried under layers of exhaustion and years of being worn down. In a slightly snippy tone, he replies:]

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.]

[jesuisfatigue]

[Unfortunately, Jean has sniffed out something to be suspicious about, which means that Kim is never going to rest again—but first, he has to iron out some more personally relevant details than Kitsuragi's strange behavior. He taps ash off his cigarette, trying to retain the information he's been given. This is what he's good at: processing, connections, putting pieces into a manageable whole. It's easy to see in times like these why he was so drawn to investigative work.]

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?

[pinballs]

Believe me, officer, [he says, a noticeable tone of weariness entering his voice,] it is as much a mystery to me as it is you. Perhaps it is some sort of displacement forced upon by traveling through the Pale. Or, perhaps this is all just some sort of elaborate fantasy created by our collective consciousness minutes before our deaths.

[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.]