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graveyardsmash2022-09-09 09:15 am
ryslighelpers) wrote in graveyardsmash2022-09-09 09:15 am
Entry tags:
TDM: SEPTEMBER/OCTOBER
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
(CW: Human remains)
When you awaken, you are hit with an immediate feeling of motion. A bobbing, if you will, or perhaps more of a rocking. You take a deep breath through your nose and take note of salt, along with the pungent scent of rotting wood. Creaking sounds echo all around you. Sitting up, you find yourself locking eyes with a skull.
An entire human skeleton is positioned across from you, resting limply against a pillar. Surveying the rest of your surroundings, you soon realize that you're below deck on an old, dilapidated ship. A ship that's on the move. The crew must have suffered a terrible fate, strewn as they all are across the floor. With their ripped poofy shirts, sheathed cutlasses and jaunty feathered hats, they seem to scream one word at you. "Pirates". ...Ooh, is that an abandoned bottle of rum? And a treasure chest? Surely they won't mind if you help yourself. They're dead, after all!
Once you've ascended the creaky steps, you find yourself on the deck of this vast, once proud vessel. A tattered Jolly Roger flaps overhead. Thick fog obscures most of the ocean surrounding you, but what's that straight ahead? Land ho! The ship's about to make port, and a crowd of curious onlookers has already gathered on the docks to stare up at this spooky new arrival. They appear apprehensive, perhaps even fearful, as if they haven't seen a ship come in for a long time. Will they hold you accountable for what happened to the skeleton crew? Will they praise you for 'ridding' them of pirates and allow you to keep the booty? There's no way to know just yet. Perhaps you'd best hide and find a way to disembark without being seen. Or perhaps there's someone else to be found here on this ship who suffered the same fate; someone who has a better idea of what to do.
SCENARIO TWO
You've stumbled your way into a city, and you're promptly besieged by the overwhelming sights and sounds. 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 lost expression and your clothes- so different from their own- 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. A hefty laptop may be handed to you, with words of a ‘network’ used for communication. Wonder what that’s about? Then there’s the very confusing pamphlet stuffed within: "What To Expect When You're Expecting (To Turn Into A Monster)”. They may direct you to an organisation known as the Lighthouse, their members most prominently found at the 38-8 apartments and the Lighthouse Church. Or perhaps, if you're injured, they'll refer you to the Crowe Clinic instead. Unfortunately, the directions you're given are so very complicated that you lose your way in the streets after two left turns, a right and a left at the soup kitchen.
Take care when asking for more help. 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
Now that you've found a moment of peace, you open up the mysterious device that's been handed to you. Perhaps you'll recognize it as some sort of laptop, albeit an old and clunky one. Or perhaps you'll be astounded by this curious feat of technology, which is unlike anything you've ever seen before. Regardless, the moment the lid is propped open to reveal the screen and the keyboard within, you gain your first glimpse of the network.
Perhaps you'll want to choose a username and write your very first message, posing the pressing question that's on your mind at this very moment. The lettered buttons click and clack awkwardly beneath your fingertips as you type.
However, you may instead want to respond to today's most popular message.
WELCOME TO RSDOS. PRESS F1 TO COMPOSE POST. *** TODAY’S TOP POST *** 018.07.154.55 <JUSTSOMEGUY> Let's play Two Truths, One Lie! It's real easy! You just post three statements about yourself, and the rest of us have to guess the lie. It'll be fun! And you get to be a liar liar without your pants catching fire for a bit. |
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.
4
Though she isn't a Werebear herself any longer, she understands well the fatigue brought on by the transformation, and the memory of it fills her with pity—more than enough to prompt her to approach and speak up in a gentle voice.]
Oh dear... Hello there. Are you all right?
no subject
It makes so little sense, though, that Gladion registers it at first as the beginning of some kind of dream sneaking up on him, like when you're about to drift off and are jerked back awake suddenly by a phantom falling sensation. He physically startles, and slides down along the post to his knees, head swimming.]
What...?
[Maybe a little more aggravated-sounding than he'd have gone for if he weren't rapidly losing lucidity. He's tired and all freaked out now and if there is someone talking then they shouldn't sneak up behind him and and and.]
no subject
[For a moment, she's crouched there with him, her hands light on his shoulders and her smile serene, even affectionate. She has the voice and face of his mother, but also antennae, translucent insect's wings resting folded across her back, and skin that glimmers with iridescent color.
In this form and at this proximity, like her own, his changes are not so drastic as to hide his identity any longer. The moment ends at the very second his voice falls on her ears; Lusamine stiffens, sucking in a sharp breath and snatching her hands away as if touching him had burned her, and lurches upright to her feet. Realization makes her head spin.]
You...! [It's him—wretch, thief, traitor—and now he's here, and transformed. How long has he been here, waiting to spring this trap? Incensed and suddenly very dizzy, she finds herself struggling to form words.] What... How...?
no subject
Gladion lifts his head enough to see her hair and - that's - that isn't possible. (She jumps away.) And yet, it sounds like her, so he needs to know. The red-hot loop of adrenaline spinning in his chest gives him enough dizzy strength to spin around and fall back on his rear, and look up at oh my god she fused with something else.
Gladion's jaw drops, and works for a moment without words actually coming out. (She gasps questions at him.) This makes no sense. And he's not ready. He didn't come prepared for an argument, so she'll talk circles around him if he tries to stand up to her, but she has him cornered so there's no slipping away, so - wait. What? Wait. Is that what's going on? How is she here? What does he...need to...
(His vision is becoming very dark very suddenly-)
That's the limit of Gladion's waning consciousness. He stares up at his mother, wordless and frozen with wide eyes, then just. Slumps back against the lamppost with a weird, almost shocked-sounding sigh, and then crumples further and rolls bonelessly onto the ground, unconscious before he even settles. Another few handfuls of fur fall off of his upper arms on the way, dusting the pavement around him.
Bye.]
1/2
She expects him to argue and taunt her first, taking advantage of her shock, but instead he just gawks up at her in silence... and then he falls suddenly limp.]
2/2 sorry for party-rocking
From somewhere deep within herself, she then feels an inexplicable pang of terror. It's senseless, she knows. Why should she afford the traitor any concern, after he had been so quick to leave her when she most needed him? If he's in any danger, she ought to have no qualms with leaving him to it. In fact, she could try her hand at removing him from this world herself...
It controls her all the same. When she kneels beside him, she only touches her hand to his shoulder (hesitantly, reluctantly), long enough to confirm the flow of life energy within him. Out cold, but alive. Her fingers come away with bits of fur clinging to them.
Intellectually, she had known this to be a possibility. Even so, the disappearance of those other two—the twins, also from the same world—had lulled her into a false sense of security. The knowledge leaves a crushing weight. She is at a loss of what to do with him or herself.
But... surely she can't leave lying him there in the street. (Why not? He brought this upon himself.)
On a strange, distant impulse, she scoops him up easily into her arms, intent on carrying him elsewhere.]
no subject
His hoodie is tied together enough to satisfy a self-conscious teenager's privacy needs for the moment, but ultimately unsalvageable, ripped open messily from the neck and the arm holes and also full of fur shed from his upper body that probably falls out the back of it as he goes up. The shirt beneath it is even more unsalvageable. Any blood on him appears to be his own; there's a dried ring of it at the base of each of his ears, and the mess from his lip, and a few scratches of unclear origin on his arms and torso. (Strangely enough, his shoes seem completely intact; apparently his legs and feet were spared the first transformation?)
And he's unconscious now, completely, deep in a torpor that won't break for any mild shaking or prodding. Dead to the world...for now.]