Ryslig Helpers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ryslighelpers) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
graveyardsmash2023-10-08 03:41 pm
ryslighelpers) wrote in graveyardsmash2023-10-08 03:41 pm
Entry tags:
TDM: OCTOBER/NOVEMBER
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: Ritualistic sacrifice, burning)Someone laughs in the distance. A high-pitched, shrieking cackle. It's followed by a deep boom, excited calls and shouts. 'Someone is having a party', you think, as you are pulled from the thick marsh of your slumber, onto the more solid footing of harsh, cold reality. Because you are cold. You lie on hard soil, pebbles and twigs pricking and poking at your body. As you sit up to survey your surroundings, you realize you've come to in the woods. It must be night, dark as it is, but you can't see the moon, nor the stars. All of that is covered by dark clouds, which hang high above the barren tree tops and swaying, empty branches. All the leaves have already fallen to the ground, and they look almost… decayed, a mixture of black and orange that's been eaten away at by the elements. You can barely see them, for as murky as the sky is, the surface is not much better. It's as if you're sitting in a shallow pond of thick fog, the substance swirling and dancing all around you. It clings to your arms, which are already covered with goosebumps as it is.
Is there a pleasant whisper in your ear, welcoming you to Her favorite woods? … No, that must be your imagination, for there are other things to occupy the senses.
In the distance, you still hear it: that cacophony of assorted voices. And… music? Yes, several instruments are playing. Odd as it is, the tune is not very cheerful. It feels melancholy, full of low string reverberations. And a distinct scent wafts by on the breeze. Crisp cedarwood and smoky embers- a campfire? You turn your head towards the source and see the flickering glow, half obscured by the trees and branches which stand between you and it. That must be where the party is. Perhaps those people can help you, for you have no way of knowing where you are, how you awoke here or why. And if you were not human before, you may even struggle with your new body as you stumble to your aching feet and move your tired legs.
Within minutes, you push through the last bit of scratchy underbrush, and the full sight of the celebration meets your eyes. What you believed to be a mere campfire is a vast bonfire, set up in the middle of a clearing. A group of nine people are positioned around it, bobbing and weaving in tune with the music. The band consists of four members, for a total of thirteen. They strike you as otherworldly at first, dressed as they are in long, flowing garbs and curious black masks. You squint against the light of the fire as you try to make out the details. The masks all appear to be styled after the same animal, as they hold a long, gnarled muzzle. A crown of branches is set upon each partygoer's head, giving off the impression of antlers. The sleeves of their robes appear stained. Unease begins to settle within you. You dare not disturb them, but something has stuck your feet to the ground, be it curiosity or fear.
Why does the fire smell so odd? It isn't just wood that's burning, is it? What are those charred shapes, obscured by the towering flames?
Someone raises a hand, and the partygoers all begin to speak in unison. They are praying. Praying for a harvest bountiful enough to get them through the upcoming winter, praying for the soil to recover, praying for humanity's triumph, for nature, for life, for night. Two of them walk off, into the bushes on the other side of the clearing. When they return, they're carrying something in-between them. Large and bulky, wrapped in a sheet. Or a burial shroud? They must be very determined to keep it hidden within the fabric, for thick ropes are wound all around it. You think you see it; the impression of a head, of shoulders and arms wrapped around a chest, of legs ending in feet.
And if you strain your ears, you hear muffled screaming coming from within the 'package'.
You see them approach the fire and the word "sacrifice" wafts through the air. Perhaps you gasp, perhaps something snaps beneath your feet as you take a step- forward or back- or perhaps… Perhaps you were simply unlucky, for the attention of the celebration shifts and now all thirteen sets of eyes are upon you. The music halts and the only sound to be heard is the crackling of the fire. The fog is still coiling around your legs, and you hear the whisper again.
"What will you do?" She asks you, as the sacrifice is set down on the ground near the fire. "It's you or them. But you… You are far more important. You deserve to live. You are the decider of their fate. You, my child, are the one they ought to bow their heads and direct their fearful prayers to."
The partygoers each take up arms, from swords to torches to hunting knives. They begin their approach and their intent is clear. You, however… You may just have the advantage if you're skilled, for a short distance away lies a weapon all for your own. A bow and arrow, perhaps, or a sling, or a gun. Whatever you might feel comfortable using, should you choose fight over flight.
And there is someone by your side. Someone who, like you, was drawn into the woods tonight and bore witness to these events. A monster to be, perhaps, or someone already long since equipped with claws, fangs, supernatural powers and so much more.
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> I want to go home. Please. It's been so long. I miss my family. I miss my life. I'm so tired of killing. Is this punishment? What have we done to deserve this? |
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
What sorta stuff do you teach there anyway? Didn't realize people here willingly go to school.
[It's a neutral enough question and as Steven finds a terrible sounding parody of an Earth classic, Marc just accepts that this is probably the reality of his moviegoing experience here. Great. It's like the best-worst combination of the media he'd willingly consume back home.]
God, that sounds so... bizarre. Let's do it. [Maybe it'll help calm him down the rest of the way, to just sit and mindlessly watch something stupid with Steven. Sounds like a good deal to him.]
no subject
Of course people willingly go to school. Even with the threat of being gobbled up by a monster, they still need to educate themselves for jobs. [...] Pretty much all the students are human, I should say. And the board of directors. But the college was started by a monster who wanted to use it to uncover the mysteries of Ryslig's past, and build a bridge between mankind and monsterkind. [There's a fond little smile on his face as he remembers Triffany. She was lovely, and he wished he'd known her longer than a few months.
Once the DVD is in the player, he takes the remote in hand and flicks on the TV. There's an odd tech disconnect happening where the TV can only change channels with a knob on the front, while the DVD player is fully remote-controlled. Thankfully, with movies, flipping channels is never needed. He retreats back to the couch to sit down next to Marc again, picking up another biscuit from the tin along the way.]
Anyway, me personally, I teach linguistics. Mostly theoretical, of course. All the people here can understand one another, so even if you speak French to a local, they'll understand. Well, unless you purposely try to speak French and then whatever magic translates it for them breaks down. It's the difference between speaking naturally to be understood, and switching to a different language to not be understood, I expect.
no subject
He's quiet as Steven rambles on a bit, following his lead and also grabbing for another biscuit. He's hungrier than he thought but maybe that's just all of his anxiety finally waning and leaving him feeling worn down.]
So if I start speaking Arabic out of the blue, you'll understand me? Unless I'm trying to teach you a specific word or something? [Confusing. Not that Marc will ever need to, he's sure, but he's trying to understand.
He bites into the ginger biscuit and looks over to Steven with a raised brow.] Everything about this place just feels slightly off. Just enough to make you a little uncomfortable. Maybe it's 'cause I'm new.
no subject
Steven nods vaguely at the Arabic thing, taking a bite of his own biscuit as he gets settled. His tail needs a few extra twitches to avoid getting caught behind his back. It's a reflex by now; he doesn't really think about the fact that he's got extra limbs which need accommodation. (Well, apart from the times he accidentally hits someone in the face with his wings.)]
Mmh- Yeah, no, I get it. I do. But the weirdness sort of becomes the norm. If there's one thing you can expect, it's the unexpected, you know?
no subject
[Whether he will adapt well to it or not remains to be seen, but at least he isn't frothing at the mouth with his angry confusion anymore. For now. Steven managed to calm him down but who knows what'll happen when he's on his own and left to his own quiet mind? Even though he'd always longed for that kind of peace, this isn't how he imagined it. Not without Steven always... there.
Marc settles down on his side of the couch, eying Crumpet and his alert excitement from his bed. He quickly shoves the rest of the biscuit into his mouth just in case the pup gets any ideas, settling in for what he hopes is a relaxing afternoon watching weird movies with Steven and not thinking about the fact that his alter has a tail hanging off the side of the couch.]