Ryslig Helpers (
ryslighelpers) wrote in
graveyardsmash2022-01-14 03:47 pm
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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
Right you are. It would not do to approach the bars of our gaol without the means to undo them. Loath would I be to double back and have to contend with our new friend, freshly roused from his slumber. Luckily, one of us has the mind of a looting rascal.
[He brings his hand to his mouth to stifle a chuckle, the latter statement clearly meant in jest. And so he turned to walk alongside Faramir, holding the lantern out at arm's length to cast a wide area of light around them. The fog hindered the visibility somewhat, reflecting the light off of its thick plumes. For a few moments, the only sounds were the insects in the tall grass and the shuffling of their footsteps in the dirt.]
By the by... did you happen to see the names carved upon the surrounding graves from whence you rose?
no subject
[At the question, he starts a little, looking up, and then sighs.]
Alas, I did. A cruel trick, to see about me those whose graves lie elsewhere, and those whose deaths were not yet written when I fell.
They were my comrades and my kin. My brother, my father, my men. Did you find likewise?
no subject
[His face falls a little, brow furrowed in thought. His situation was much the same. Names of his beloved friends, none of which were fated to voyage with him on his return to the star. It was as puzzling as it was concerning, but surely if they truly were laid to rest there, their souls had either long departed, or they would have risen again with him. It was that conclusion that gave Hythlodaeus comfort - if they were indeed here, they would be by his side.]
Souls dear to me who should not have also made their aetherial departure in my wake. Curious.
[He walks on for a beat in silence again.]
I did not mean to startle you with my inquiry. Pray, forgive me, you must have much on your mind.
no subject
...I have told you that my brother's name was among them. My mother's, too.
Both are dead, it is true; but she has lain some thirty years beneath Minas Tirith, and he had no grave at all. I see no way for either of them to have come to this place; unless the graves are empty, or there is some enchantment at play that we know not.
I do not know if it is a lie, or if it is some greater strangeness at work. But it is not so simple as it seems, in any case.
no subject
My deepest and most sincere condolences, friend. May their souls ever enjoy a peaceful rest at the heart of the star.
[A moment of silence. To continue speaking of other subjects so soon seems impolite, but he can't put it off forever. Hythlodaeus takes one of his long sleeves and wipes the condensation from the glass of the lantern so the light can remain unhindered.]
It certainly is a puzzle, and we do not yet have all the pieces... Hopefully whatever lies beyond the border of this place can afford us some more insight. Ah, speaking of which.
[The light catches on wrought iron bars - the giant, locked gate built to keep outsiders out. Or, in their case, insiders in. Hythlodaeus scrutinizes it in the dark for wherever a place may be to fit any of the keys they had picked up.]
There!
[Wrapped numerous times around the bars was a giant, heavy-duty chain keeping both doors of the gate together. A comically large, rusted padlock was affixed to it, ensuring that it would not be unwound.]
If you would be so kind, I will light your way. Perhaps sooner than later, I suggest. My eyes may not be up to their usual standard, but my ears seem to perceive heavy footfall in the distance.
no subject
[As well, then, that the light falls onto their hoped-for salvation when it does, and Faramir lengthens his stride, leaning the shovel against the gatepost.]
Sooner rather than later; indeed, as soon as I am able. Hold the lamp a little higher, if you would; there are too many keys, and I have no desire for pacifism to reach its end again so soon.
no subject
To think we may be bested by such an archaic contrivance!
[His tone is a strange mix of annoyance and amusement. The rudimentary items and tools in this foreign land would be charming if they weren't such a hindrance. If only he were able to call upon his magick in this place, however limited it may be, he would at least be able to open this lock. Instead he must put his faith in Faramir's nimble fingers, which, to his credit, have not failed them yet.]
If anything, I may be used as live bait, should the need arise.
[Just stop talking.]
no subject
[But that is another thing to be questioned later, if at all. For now, he focuses on sorting through the keys, testing those that look promising. The lock is stiff, and the keys unwieldy in his cold, mud-streaked hands; but he does his best, and will not hurry. More haste, less speed, as they say.]
If we are in need of bait, then I would call that a blessing; for it means the hunt can be avoided.
Ah! Hold the light steady; I think I have it!
no subject
...Right!
[Snapping out of his focused vigil, he held his arm steady, trying not to shiver from the wet cold that draped itself over them. As soon as he heard the telling click of the lock and saw it drop from the chains, he used his free arm to help Faramir unwind the chain from where it was looped around the bars of the gate. Freeing the entire length of it wasn't necessary - they had only to loosen it enough to accommodate their width and they could shimmy through sideways to save time. Hythlodaeus had height to him, but he wasn't gifted with the bulk of muscle. He just had to duck under the chain in order to slip through, holding his robes up so that he might not trip over them and make a fool of himself.]
Hah... the light of civilization glows in this direction. At least, I very well hope it's civilization and not the burning lanterns of an impassioned mob!
[Tugging Faramir's wrist, he makes off towards the hopeful gleam of Bavan, not knowing how they would be received, or who would be receiving them. For a mercy, the gravekeeper was far too large to fit through the gap they had made in the gate, so when he would happen upon their exit, he would be stalled by unwinding the rest of the chain.]
no subject
[Whatever world it may be. The lights have something strange about them, which cannot be accounted for by the still-lashing rain. They are the wrong colour, somehow.]
I suppose we will find out, one way or the other.
[This is an answer both to Hythlodaeus' comment, and to his own musings. He glances back over his shoulder as he is pulled away, to see the approaching bulk of the gravedigger through the mists and the half-open gate, and he has to confess to a certain admiration for a man who will overcome a blow like that and still keep to his duty.]
[Not that it is particularly reassuring, when that duty seems to include trying to dash their brains out in turn. He turns forward again, lengthening his stride.]
At least there may be someone there with the patience to stand and talk!
no subject
Ah... phew, 'tis plain our foe has ceased giving chase. To be prudent, however, let us muddle ourselves in the throng. Though I'm not quite certain how well we'll do at blending in...
[With another huff, Hythlodaeus approaches the groups of pedestrians roaming the sidewalk with a calm ease, one very at home in the bustle of a city. He makes sure Faramir is close by, however, as he feels it's still appropriate to look out for each other. Who knows what else might be looking to bludgeon their skulls in with the tool of their respective trade.]
no subject
[These buildings arch high as mallorn-trees, glinting glass and steel, silent guards of a jagged skyline. Beneath their feet, the mud has given way not to dressed granite, as he first thought, but to something else; something smooth and seamless, a river of stone. There are lights behind the glass; witch-lights that do not flicker, but burn in strange colours. This is a dream-city, and he falters where he walks, turning his face up towards the falling rain, which is caught in strange colours as it drips onto the black roadway.]
[He is doing a terrible job at blending in.]
...This place...
no subject
A bit garish, I'll admit, but we are hardly in a position to criticize.
[He laughs, wading back through the crowd to stand closer to Faramir. Any more distance between them and they might be swept apart by the current.]
How do you fare? I trust our heroic escape left you without any injuries of note?
[Faramir seems to be preoccupied with looking around. Is he dazed? Did he knock his head? Perhaps he just needs rest.]
no subject
[He clears his throat, and looks at Hythlodaeus more squarely, offering a small smile.]
Naught worse than bruises and scrapes, I would say. In body, at least, I am more hale than I have right to be.
[He sighs, letting his hand drop back to his side.] Forgive me. This place has the air to it of a dream, but not one that my mind has ever forged; and everything is strange. I am all right. I am only lost.