graveyardsmash | TDM: FEBRUARY/MARCH

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test drive

TDM: FEBRUARY/MARCH

TDM: FEBRUARY/MARCH

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: hospitals, environmental horror)

You awaken with a harsh shiver, goosebumps prickling your skin. Perhaps you've found yourself in a bath tub filled with ice. Perhaps you're lying in a walk-in freezer. Perhaps it's just a plain bed with no blankets- how fiendish! Regardless of where you awoke, cold seems to be the order of the day. Even outside the ice baths and freezers, the air temperature is more than a little frigid in here. Being dressed in no more than a short blue gown with an exposed back certainly doesn't help.

Venturing beyond whatever orderly, almost sterile room you awoke in, you find yourself in the hall of what appears to be a hospital ward. When you watch the walls with enough rapt attention, you may note that they appear to be pulsating, almost as if they are breathing. Despite its normal appearance, the floor feels oddly springy beneath your step. Where are the doctors and nurses, you may ask? They're nowhere to be seen. By all means, explore the other rooms and take whatever jello cups you can find. It's free real estate!

Don't get too comfortable, though. It's entirely possible that the staff vacated these halls for a reason. As you approach the ward's exit, you find a message haphazardly scrawled across the pair of doors. "Don't monster, open inside"...? That doesn't make any sense, now does it? What could be beyond? Or who?

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> Hey. We're all from different worlds, right? With different senses of humor? So who here has the best joke, not only in their own world but in every world represented? Let's settle this once and for all!

Share your best jokes and come out the Funniest Person in the Multiverse! (No prizes for the winner apart from eternal glory.)

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

1. Nine of Swords (Hospital)
The smell of antiseptic wakes Childermass before the cold. His eyes snap open and immediately, he sits up. Only then does the cold air on his bare back become evident, and he looks down at himself with a wide-eyed shudder. He doesn't feel dizzy, like the last time he had felt fairy magic nearby ... but what else could have made him wake up in another place entire from Hurtfew Abbey?

Wrapping his arms around himself for what scant warmth he can gain, he looks around the ward, notes the ice baths and his unknown company.

"Is this bedlam?" He asks, unable to help the question. If it was, Vinculus had to be nearby by default, and not only because he'd been sleeping two rooms down the hall. "Where are we? I do not remember arriving here. There should be another man ... long brown hair, wild beard, strange blue tattoos..."

2. The Chariot (Downtown Bavan)
The hospital had been a thing of horrors, and Childermass was well convinced that somehow he'd been dragged along the King's Roads, abducted by some fairy: perhaps the same one who had enchanted Lady Pole, as some revenge for his part in breaking her curse. Whichever realm he was in now, it was a queer one where monsters walked alongside humans. He was doing his best to maintain his composure, but some of the creatures were giving him terrible distress. At a loss as to where to go, he sat down on the lip of a fountain and looked up at the sky. He had not been able to recover his clothes, and had therefore lost his tarot cards. He would have to read what few signs he could.

"Was it Martin Pale who wrote about reading the clouds?" He wondered aloud to himself. "Or was it Stokesy? ... Damn it all..."

When someone pushed a sheaf of pamphlets into his hands, he asked them for a stick of graphite and was handed the oddest quill he had ever seen, its nib blunt and the inkwell incorporated into the shaft. Nodding his thanks amid his bewilderment, Childermass began to tear the pamphlets into careful rectangles. The Bavanite was quite distressed by this turn of events and began to berate him for such a waste of charity. Did he not understand that they were trying to prepare him for the terrible future that lay ahead?

"Madam," Childermass said coolly without looking up, "what I am doing will reveal my future, terrible or not, on a far more accurate manner than your little bills can."

3. Ace of Swords: UN [Penumbral]
If you may, please tell me of the magic in this realm. It is apparent that my own haphazard education requires some expansion. What is its nature? How is it practiced? Are there mainly practical magicians or theoretical ones?

4. Wildcard
Victorian era former thief and servant to London's most famous magician seeks ... well, anything really. He likes to poke his nose where it doesn't belong in the name of gathering information and subtly making things go the way they should, so feel free to spot him creepin'.

"Are you making cards?"

Sakon didn't hesitate to shoulder past whoever was closest and invite himself into the conversation. He looked at the tidy little pieces with interest practically sparkling in his eyes. It was a work in progress, obviously, so there was no way to know if it was anything he was familiar with or not, so he reached out to snatch one as soon as there was an opening.

"What game are you gonna play with them? Or is it just like 'if I pull a good card, good things are coming my way?'"

There was nothing written on them at present, as Childermass had only just begun, and only written numbers at the bottom: Roman Numerals, to be more precise, up to 22. He was just beginning to label the trump cards when the gentleman with the odd, particolored hair helped himself to the half-finished fruits of his labor.

Childermass looked up at him through his long, slightly greasy black hair and gave a smirk that was surprisingly warm. "Usually, it's the latter, but I remember reading that there are rules for a game that can be played with them. Or, if about a quarter of them are left out, they can be used as a deck of common playing cards."

"Huh. Sounds like a lot of work just to give yourself a little confidence, but I respect that!"

He set the card back down with a grin, then reached into his own pockets and began to pull out an wide assortment of items.

"I got some dice, but some of them have way too many sides... I got these things that I think are just bones or something with stuff carved on them... Dunno. Can't read it. Really do look like some kinda bones, though. This is just money, I think, but it's got different pictures on each side..."

He held them all out, beaming and looking quite proud of himself. It was what he'd spent most of his day doing, after all, and he was quite pleased with the results.

"No cards yet, though. Everything I've found so far is too big."

"They are not just for confidence," Childermass replied with patience he had been surprised to discover he had. Maybe it was the strangeness of it all that made him feel a bit more inclined to explain things: the thought that this fellow may be from another realm that had no tarot cards or divination. "They may lay out all a man's possibilities before him if he is learned enough to know the meaning, and thus advise him on which to choose. Poor decisions can be averted, possible issues found out ahead of time."

He peered at the items that were being placed on impromptu display with open curiosity. "I have never seen the like of those dice," he agreed, but smiled a little at the bones. "Those, however, may be runes - a set of stones with a purpose similar to my future deck of cards. Are the symbols all made of straight lines?"

Sakon very carefully placed the bones down next to the cards and took a step back, like putting some distance between himself and the runes was going to have some sort of effect.

"Mmaybe? You can look if you want. Actually, you can have them if you want. I'm not gonna mess with magic bones or anything like that. Stuff is weird enough already and I don't wanna get cursed."

If nothing else, Childermass thinks, this kid has a reverence for objects of power or mystery, and that earns a point in his book. When Sakon offers to gift him the bones, he looks up in surprise.

"You're certain of it?" He asks, mildly, tracing a fingertip along one carving. They aren't the same as the Nordic runes he's seen, but there are similarities, enough that he may be able to suss out some sort of meaning from them. "I've not much to give you in return." At that, he's reminded of the bargain he made to obtain his original deck of cards, and a flash of inspiration lights his eyes.

"You'll have readin's from me whenever you'd feel a need, then. No cost. Games's well, once we find them." Satisfied with his offering, he holds out a hand. "John Childermass, at'cher service."

"What, really?!" If Sakon had a tail, it would be wagging. He certainly wasn't going to ask for free fortunetelling, but he absolutely wasn't gong to turn it down if it was offered. It was something he didn't make a habit of paying for, not because he didn't believe in it, but rather because he DID and he knew he was superstitious enough to waste too much money on it. Money that could be better used for more important things. Like, say, gambling.

He hesitated a second before reaching out and shaking Childermass's hand. It was one of those weird Xavist greetings, he was pretty sure, but he'd seen a lot of people here doing it already. No reason to be rude, he figured, even though he didn't really get the point of it.

"The name's Sakon Shima! Nice to meetcha! And you can count on me for games, that's for sure. If I can't find a good enough deck for hanafuda, I'm gonna make my own. Can't be too hard, right? You're doing good with...whatever kind that is you're making."

He could tell there was a bit of awkwardness in the handshake, but considering all the different realms that there were, he supposed it made sense. "I've never heard of hanafuda. Be much obliged if y'could tell me a bit abou' it."

So saying, he resumed tearing his little rectangles out of the brochures. "It's to be a deck of what's known as the Cards of Marseilles. Seventy-eight of 'em in all: four suits've pips and one suit've arcana: different concepts an' types've people. Every card has a meanin' to go wi' the symbols, and dependin' on what order y' lay 'em out, they can mean somethin' a bit different. I made my last deck meself, as well, but it was lost in th' journey 'ere."

"That's a lot of cards to keep track of..." Almost double what he was used to. "Guess it depends on the game, though. Hanafuda deck's got 48 cards. Twelve suits of four each and four different types of card. Not every suit has every type, though, and some of them have more than one of the same type."

He paused for a second, frowning slightly. Come to think of it, that was actually pretty complicated itself, wasn't it? He was pretty sure he could explain it, but when he actually stopped to consider it, he was pretty impressed with himself that he managed to keep all of it in his brain at once. Maybe he just had more brain space for gambling than for other things? It was a definite possibility.

"An' that's a lot've types of card t' keep track of," Childermass says with an arch little smile, listening intently even as he's tearing up the next brochure. He has maybe a third of what he needs, at this point. "I'm guessin' the goal is to collect all four of a suit before anyone else? Or is it more of a trick-takin' game?"

It's dreadful. Completely tied to a few set monster types and even those seem to have certain abilities at random. There's no order to it. No rules of how things work. Ridiculous.

Absolutely no rules at all? That's impossible. There have to be standards or it wouldn't be proper magic. I'm no theoretical, but even I have to concede to that. The Raven King even had to follow the bloody rules.

well, the powers that be here said sod your kings/gods and suggested their own orders. they've got undead but not thanergy. resurrection with little cost but memory. you can even buy magic from someone.

Only resurrection I ever knew of couldn't even be done by a mortal man - he had to summon a fairy. I can't say I've ever heard of thanergy, must be a branch of magical theory I haven't read of yet. But I know enough Latin to make a guess that it's to do with some sort of energy connected to whatever phenomenon happens at death. Am I far off the mark, sir?

christ. amateur hours.

Thanergy is the energy produced by death, from the smallest life form all the way up to a planet. It's a foundational part of necromancy.

Begging your pardon, Your Highness, if it seems outdated to you. The magic dates from 1400, and is only just beginning to be practiced again. We had had quite a lapse from it in England, and it was nearly lost to time.

But I do not mean to digress. To have an entire field of magical focus based upon and drawn from the dead ... I should think something very terrible must have happened to make that necessary.

[yes, he is taking the 'king' username literally. why should he not? he hasn't become aware yet that people's usernames can just be fanciful. he had chosen shadow as his own because that was what he had always been - either behind someone or working in darkness, that thing waiting in the light cast by his betters.]

No matter what happened, or when ... you have my condolences.

[When Childermass awakens, he is greeted by a strange sight. A young man, pale as death with snowy, unkempt hair to match is staring at him with pale golden eyes. He has on the same hospital gown.

And eating a cup of green jell-o with a plastic spoon]

Brown hair...? Tattoos....? [the way the guy tilts his head back and forth is strangely reminiscent of a huge, predatory bird] You're the first human I've seen. ... First living thing at all! [a pause] ... unless you count whatever is in the walls.

[almost every single thing about the other man, from his white hair to his birdlike movements and back around, absolutely screams 'fairy' to Childermass, and his posture stiffens. the hospital gown is no matter: fairies are deceptive creatures, and it could be a ruse to make him agree to some form of deal. he knows he must be extremely careful how he chooses every single word, as he was with the guardian of the Castle of the Plucked Eye and Heart during his brief foray into the fae wild.]

Oh? And what's in th' walls, then? Rats?

[he can tell full well that it isn't any bloody rats.]

[birdlike, catlike, wolflike... the more Childermass watches, the more his body language resembles that of a hunter, a predator, than any specific animal. A predator that is awkward in his own skin, like wearing clothes that are too tight in some places and too loose in others.

He laughs, eerie despite not having that reverb effect. His voice is drawling, casual. Whatever problem he has with his body, he doesn't have with his voice]

I dunno!! Hehehe... [he jabs the nearest wall with the end of his spoon. The wall twitches.] Haven't been able to find anything sharp enough to cut into it and find out... You'd think a hospital would have a scalpel or two layin' around. [poke. poke. poke. The wall twitches a little less each time, growing used to the man's irritating but harmless prods] ... Then again, we are inside it. It may not be the best idea to cut it open.

[Childermass wonders why he isn't feeling dizzy or disoriented, as he had when he was in the presence of strong fairy magic before. The worst he feels is a deep shudder down his spine at the sound of that high laugh - like a child at play, but twisted and dark.

That distress only deepens when he sees what that little provoking jab does to the wall. He can feel the muscles in his shoulders tensing, but outwardly keeps his composure, frowning in thought as he steps up to examine the wall himself, keeping a safe distance from the other ... creature. He is certain, somehow, that it is no man.]

Heard a song, once, at sea. 'Bout a whale that swallowed up two people. Allus thought it was just a tall tale, but ... this's beginnin' to make a man wonder.

[being afraid of the other isn't going to get him anywhere, nor is avoiding him. it wouldn't be the first time by far that he'd had to work with someone distasteful. so, Childermass cants his head a little in greeting, but does not offer a hand, and does not give his full name. just as a precaution.]

I'm John. What's the last thing you were doin' before you woke up 'ere? I sure as shine would've remembered you bein' at the Starre Inn.

["Creature" is probably the best way to describe him. For now, he's as human as Childermass is. But he's not interested in letting the other know that. If the other man is scared, then Zangetsu has the power in the situation. And he likes that.]

A whale pretendin' to be a hospital? Sure! Why not.

[he tilts his head in return]

John. [he does not offer his own name, yet. At the question, though, he looks off distantly... What was he doing? College life for Ichigo was boring for him. He barely got to do anything. Even Ichigo's dreams were consumed with deadlines and exams. Months had gone by since his power had even been used...] ... Nothin'. I wasn't doin' anything. So this is already more interesting!

[that offhand remark about the whale prompts a mild raise of his eyebrows that can only be interpreted as 'bitch, please'.]

I wasn't insinuatin' they were an exact match for each other. But if you'd rather be 'ere than where y'were, good on you, I suppose.

[he starts to circumnavigate the room, hoping for cabinets that might have blankets, or at least towels for people to dry off when they got out of those abominable ice baths. he can feel his fingers and toes starting to go numb from the cold, and that's not exactly something he likes]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

TDM: FEBRUARY/MARCH

John Childermass | Johnathan Strange & Mr. Norrell

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