TDM: FEBRUARY/MARCH

[ryslighelpers]

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! Scenarios 2, 3 and any suitable wildcards may be canonized into the game upon acceptance, so long as they don't conflict with the canon arrival log or overall game setting!

Please take a look at the navigation page for rules, setting information, and links to reserves and apps. Have fun!

SCENARIO ONE

(CW: cemeteries)

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. If you were not human before, you may be shocked to discover that you are now.

You're in a grave, the hole almost six feet deep and difficult to escape. When at last you've clawed your way out, with or without help, you may wish inspect the tombstone marking your spot. It has your name on it, and nothing else. No dates, no solemn messages, nothing. It's just you. The graves next to yours are marked as well; etched into the worn stone are the names of friends, family, acquaintances... Not all of them are open like yours are, for fresh mounds of dirt imply that some graves were closed quite recently.

There's a lantern bobbing in the distance, and you hear the jingle-jangle of heavy keys, or worse still, spot the light reflecting off gravekeeper's massive pitchfork or shovel. Catching a glimpse of his gruff face will tell you in an instant that he does not look kindly upon trespassers. 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 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> So Valentine's Day is coming up again huh? Lame. Tell me an anecdote about love. Doesn't need to have happened to you, doesn't even need to have happened at all. I just wanna hear one of those sappy stories about how love always prevails.

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

Jeanne "Jeannette" d'Arc | Symphogear XDU | third time's the charm? who knows

[darcangel]

[ I do not know A from B (Graveyard) ]

Excuse me, good friend!

[ Were you wandering the graveyard to visit lost CR? Or perhaps you just clawed out of the dirt, yourself. Either way, a petite girl in...armor...is hailing you, waving a hand over her head and beckoning you over. ]

I am sorry to interrupt. But -

[ She points to the headstone by an open grave. The dirt, strewn about and dislodged, matches the clumps clinging to her blonde curls. The headstone reads "JEANNE D'ARC." ]

What does this say?

[ Better today than tomorrow (Bavan) ]

No, no. This is not "Ryslig." You may say it is, so as not to frighten others. But refusing to face a problem does no good.

[ Jeanne is...arguing? With the pamphleteers? One of whom has explained aloud what they're talking about, given the above illiteracy Issue. ]

A place full of infernal wonders - [ she gestures to the streetlights and, frankly, the cars ] - where we must choose how to live with least regret, when faced with horrors -

[ She puts her hands on her hips and declares, for all to hear: ]

This is Purgatory!

[ For fear of the fire (Changes) ]

[ There is a demon attempting to enter a Day God church.

It is not going well.

The parson is standing at the door, chanting something about "holiness protect us", and the demon's skin is smoking. It...almost looks like molten lava, in places? Like someone who burns from the inside out. ]

You do ill exorcising me, for lacking a proper priest I confessed to you - [ Agh! Trying to take a step forward. ] - last week! Do not shirk from me-

[ "That was before the Fog, you monster!" ]

Oh, in G---

[ She stops. Frowns. Tries again. ]

In Gggg---

[ Hm. ]

Jjjesss--jjjj.....

[ No. Her throat closes when she tries to say them. The holy, blessed names.

For the first time, the demon looks afraid. ]

C-c-c-changes

[unliveactionroleplay]

[Miguel hadn’t had any clear monstrous changes yet, much to his simultaneous relief and dismay. He was scared of the prospect but excited by it too so there was a restlessness in his heart. In the interim, he had simply been enjoying being human again. He is taking a scenic walk through town in the daytime (!!) when he passes the church and sees a frankly cool as hell young woman raising her voice with the parson.

He approaches, reflexively reaching out to put a hand in Jeanne’s shoulder as he moves to her side but stopping short and reconsidering as the sting of smoke hits his eyes. His hand hovers for a moment before he pulls it back. He glances between her and the parson.]

Hey, everything okay here?

[darcangel]

I - I -

[ "Back, spawn of the Fog!" The parson hurries to shut the door of the church - slams it, more like - and the jangle of multiple locks within can be heard. Jeanne, however, turns to this kind soul, tears steaming at the corners of her eyes, evaporating before they can even fall. ]

C-can you say the name of Our Lo---lllllllll....of Ggg......

[ UGH!

In frustration, she points at the church and gestures. The person! People worship! In places! Like that!! ]

Okay but what if I threw a rude boy at you in addition to good boy

[zetsuboy]

[Theres a young boy with horns (?) and wings(?) and bright red hair(???? Okay that one isn’t as weird actually never mind) standing and brushing himself off nearby.]

I’m not your fr- ugh, whatever. [He grunts in annoyance, his focus shifting to the headstone.]

What, can’t you read? It says Jean Dee Ark.

[Yes, pronounced exactly like it looks.]

what IF

[darcangel]

Jean Dee....Ark....?

[ Hmmmm. Ah!

Oh dear. ]

Not - "Jeanne d'Arc"?!

Graveyard

[twitterbaited]

[He tries to ignore her at first, but there's only so long he can turn a blind eye. He frowns looking her way--is she supposed to be some kind of damn cosplayer? Whatever, he figures he should help send her along her way. So with a gruff sigh, he trudges over, looking to the gravestone.]

What, are you blind? It clearly says Jeanne D'arc. [a scoff.]

Which must be some really bad joke. This ain't a museum or France, that's for sure.

[darcangel]

You--

[ Huh. All thought of pointing out she cannot read gets knocked from her head, because Jeanne only has room for so much up there, and at least three-quarters of it remains permanently occupied with ANGEL ANGEL ANGEL ANGEL ANGEL ANGEL. ]

You know the name - Jeanne d'Arc?

Alastor | Hazbin Hotel | Spoilers possible! LMK if you want to avoid them

[deerlisteners]

Overture - Cemetery [cw: gore]

[Alastor's eyes snap open. Which is quite odd, because he doesn't remember going to sleep! In fact, he's not sure he's slept in almost a hundred years. It's the dampness that gets him, a chill that is both unfamiliar and stirs a memory that he'd rather forget. Lying on the swampy forest floor, head splitting with pain, bites and scratches from the hunter's dogs oozing and bruising, consciousness fading quickly as each beat of his heart squeezes more blood out of the through-and-through bullet wound in his forehead. Cold... mother... it's so cold.... He shakes off the bad memory (though it's less a fully formed memory and more of a flash bulb of pain) and take sin his surroundings. A grave...? He sits up in it, peering upwards through dirty, cracked glasses, subconsciously trying to swivel his ears to pick up on sounds. But... he doesn't have those ears anymore. He pats the top of his head. No antlers, either. He pats around his head. Plain, round ears!

He places a hand on his chest. A very human hand, with no claws. Skin full of life and color. He stares at it for a moment, his smile tentative, heart fluttering. It's fascinating. He hasn't seen these hands in decades.

Hazbin Hotel spoilers in introspection

That's when he realizes something else is different. Not only is he not a demon anymore, and he's alive, but there's nothing bound to his soul. None of his contracts. None of the souls he consumed. But more importantly, his soul is his again. Free....! Free as a bird uncaged...! He barely even remembers what this felt like, to feel so light and unfettered. A world of possibilities had just opened up.

He tries to keep his laughing quiet by covering his face, but the sound is never the less quite unhinged. Ok. Ok. Focus, Alastor. A fresh start. Which means he has to choose the role he wishes to play.

----

He stands up in the grave and jumps up and down, waving his hand. He calls out in a vaguely Cajun-tinged voice, forgoing his usual mid-Atlantic vibe]

Helllooooo? Hello up there! Is anyone out there? Can anyone hear me?

[peeking into the grave (marked "Alastor" with a scratched out family name and the dates 1898 -- 1933), his would-be saviors will see a dapper, tall, youthful-looking man in a filthy, torn suit vest]

Oh! Thank my lucky stars! Give a fella a hand up?

I WANT ... some new glasses - Bavan

[Oh he is so lost. And there's something so exciting about that! He knew both New Orleans and Pentagram City like the back of his hand, and exploring a new city ("Bavan", was it? It seemed to have a European flair) where he had absolutely no idea where he was gave him a delightful fluttering of panic in his chest. Of course, things would be much easier if he could see well. His left lens is shattered, and the right lens seems to be popped out entirely. Of course... his right eye was always the worse of the two.

Not that it mattered. Even if he could read the street signs from afar, he didn't know what he was looking for anyway. Well, it couldn't be helped. He would have to ask for assistance.

Using one of the pamphlets he'd been handed earlier, he waves someone -- anyone! even a monster! -- down. Using the same Cajun-lite accent as before, he calls out, giving his most winning smile]

Heya! You, over there! Could I bother you for some directions? You see, I'm looking for the optician. [he taps his glasses. You see his problem, don't you?]

SHOWSTOPPER - RSDOS/Radio Broadcast cw: monster cannibalism

[the post to RSDOS is simple, and even if someone responds, the OP, with the user name ("RadioIsntDead"), does not respond]

Friends, demons, monsters! Please tune in this evening at 5 P.M. sharp to 97.3 FM for a very special broadcast. I promise, you won't be disappointed. :)

[As promised, tuning into the station at that appropriate time treats the listener to a lively jazz tune in progress. The song ends, and a voice speaking with a strong mid-atlantic accent comes through. It's cheesy, but pleasantly nostalgic] Hello, hello! Good evening, my dear monstrous listeners!. Thank you so much for tuning into my broadcast, I know your time is important. It's your friend the Radio Demon, here again with more tantalizing food for thought.

And in this case, we will actually be talking about food! [laugh-track] We all know by now that monsters must eat humans to survive. These are just the facts of life, imposed on us in this Hell by our benevolent malevolent Fog Goddess. Of course, you can resist... but then you might just have your choice taken from you. [booooooooo] We're all free men and women here, and we certainly don't want that.

Last week, we discussed the possibility that the humans here are all sinners incarnated, doomed to be tortured for crimes in past lives they don't even recall! It sparked some lively conversation. The people here are tortured by the Fog and by monsterkind alike, but many of my fine callers posited that monsters are not only the torturers, but facing torture of their own! I appreciate all the unique viewpoints.

So today, I offer you a new brain teaser to chew on -- the humans die permanently, but monsters are brought back by the fog. Have you ever considered... eating other monsters? After all, surely no one wants to eat the long pork for every meal. Variety is the spice of life! The spice of his afterlife. Have you ever thought about deep fried harpy? A bit of merperson sashimi? A delicious waldegeist sausage? Go ahead and call in at xxx-xxxx and give me your thoughts. As always, you can request anonymity using my-- [his voice is distorted] -- fancy voice changer if you so desire! Your sweet Radio Demon is here to give your voice wings, so that it may fly through the airwaves!

[Calling the number will start a phone call (that can either be private or broadcast for all to hear!) with Alastor, aka, the "Radio Demon". He is, for now at least, keeping his physical and radio/RSDOS presences distinct]

REPRISE - Wildcard

[Other ideas? Things you want to do with Alastor? Let me know! Please be aware of his content warnings and such. He acts like a nice guy, but he's actually a violent psychopath cannibal. HE FITS RIGHT IN. Hit me up at DrFishbone]

overture

[missleadingquestions]

Oh!

[The face that peers over the edge of the grave does not look to belong to anyone who could be particularly helpful in this situation, but at least she probably won't look too terribly strange to Alastor. Maybe.]

Well, you certainly aren't a dead body.

What are you doing hanging out in a place like that?

[Maya flashes a wide and sharp grin that glows even as the shadows obscure her face.]

Just kidding. Let me get you something to grab on to.

[deerlisteners]

Haha! Much longer in this dank hole, and I might be! [oh wait. She looks scary. Not human. He is human now! Just a plain, normal guy. That's the role... So he should probably pretend to be frightened. He backs up a little and holds his hands up, quivering a bit. He's harmless and unarmed, scary glowing woman!] Aha... I... w-would appreciate the help, yes... [his smile is strained, and it almost looks like real fear in his eyes. In the darkness, it's even more convincing]

Carol Danvers/Captain Marvel | MCU | OTA

[auntcarol]

A. Arrival:

[It’s funny, her first thought is that with all the things she’s seen and done, this is the first time she’s ever woken up in her own grave.

The second thought is—]

Did I just wake up in my own grave?!

[Carol turns and looks up at the top of the, well, literal grave and sees her name in the tombstone.]

This isn’t funny.

[But no one seems to be here. She’s covered in dirt and the last thing she remembers is being on the bed in the Hoopty, about to use the Pod again…did something malfunction? But this certainly isn’t one of her memories…a dream, maybe? She feels a little off, a little strange, but who wouldn’t, waking up in a hole in the ground. Time to get a better vantage point. She jumps—

—and falls, right in the dirt again. Ow.

Wait. That doesn’t make any sense. She gets up, and tries to activate her powers, expecting to see energy flow around her fists and—

—nothing.]

Power suppression?!

Hey! Who’s out there?! Anyone?

[Obviously it’s probably not smart to start yelling when there’s clearly someone or something powerful blocking her abilities but if that was the case then they obviously knew where she was, and had put her there, so she might as well get some answers.

And now to climb out of the damp grave. Yuck.]

B. Explore
cw: mention of Ryslig cannibalism

[Weird alien world, check. Alien beings on said alien world, not uncommon, though some species were pretty unique. The whole cannibalism thing? Also surprisingly, not entirely uncommon.

What was uncommon was the fact people kept saying that she and anyone else who’d just come were going to turn into said hungry monsters. Which, with as many things as she’s seen, still manages to sound ridiculous.

But also, not entirely implausible .

Carol, tying her uniform around her waist and wearing a less-muddy tank top, doesn’t look too out of place among the other humans she’s seen, but it’s not humans she needs to talk to. She waves down the nearest monster she sees.]

Wait! I need to know if this is for real. What planet are you from?

C. Network

< Danvers >
Has anyone seen an orange cat around? Answers to the name of Goose?

Goose has a collar so please let me know if you find her.

Other identifying marks are tentacles. Sometimes.

B

[summonthesuit]

[A monster she shall have! Steven's one of the more discreet ones with his mostly humanoid look, especially now that he can put his wings away, but the tail and extra pair of eyes will always stand out. As soon as he gets waved down, he stops dead in his tracks, then goes to meet her halfway. Carol is one of those extended Avengers who hasn't gotten a whole lot of screentime on the news, so Steven doesn't recognize her one bit.]

Like... Originally? I'm from Earth. London, if that helps.

[auntcarol]

London, okay, cool.

[A beat. She doesn't seem to show too much surprise at his appearance--a tail and extra pair of eyes tracks with a lot of alien species she's seen, but what's worrying her even more is that it's not looking good for her situation.]

And then you got brought...here?

[She points at the, well. Ground.]

Alternate universe?

A

[aistieada]

[ Something strange is definitely going on in the graveyard, stanger than usual anyway, and Layla can't just linger on the opposite side of the outer wall wondering about what all those noises are about, especially when they turn into a distinct shout for help.

She's not sure what to expect when she carefully leans over the open grave, peering into the darkness, but she's more than a bit relieved to see what appears to be a human woman, muddy and anxious, understandably. As for her she looks to be entirely human from that vantage point too, her face framed with a mess of dark curls that are especially frizzy at the moment thanks to the humidity. She slides down to her knees to offer a hand over the edge. ]

Come on, we'd better get out of here before the gravekeeper catches up to us.

[ Luckily for them both he was on the other side of the graveyard, possibly investigating another disturbance, so they might have time to slip away. ]

[auntcarol]

Thanks.

[There's relief in Carol's eyes and posture at the sight of the other woman, what would be far worse than waking up in your grave is waking up in your grave utterly alone or surrounded by hostile beings, so at least the situation is looking up. Literally. She reaches out for her hand, bracing herself against the soft dirt to climb up. It's strange, being without her powers--she hasn't felt like this in a long time, and she keeps fighting the urge to just fly away.]

I have no idea how the hell I got here--wait, did you say gravekeeper?

[A pause.]

...a menacing gravekeeper?

April O'Neil| Rise of the TMNT

[aprillllloneil]

PROMPT 1: Arrival-Network
[Being in weird places always seemed to be the norm for April.
For once, it wasn't her fault just jumping into a random portal and following without so much with a thought. Looking around, this place definitely wasn't New York and was even too weird to be Jersey by their standards. Some of the locals just seemed to avoid any sort of eye contact with her when looking their way for help. 'Hellllloooooo?' 'Hey could just..' 'If you could just point me to...wait!' 'Do you even know where--' 'CAN A GIRL GET SOME HELP!?' Quick to stand in front of a local with hands on hips to make more than sure they saw her and it just wasn't her imagination in being purposely ignored. All well and fine for her home city, but April wasn't going to just be ignored here. Maybe a more direct approach would work. Or....not because he quickly took off running away in the opposite direction.]

"Great..." [Shoulders fell with a heavy sigh. Maybe a softer approach?

Luckily, she wouldn't have to try and grill anyone for information when someone beckoned her over to graciously explain things. Though they had a rather solemn expression in seeing yet another newcomer here. Another lost lamb. Just this and that explained and the so called pamphlet didn't do her much favors in helping her confusion, but it was all she got plus this big ass paper weight laptop. What brand was this anyway? Either way she thank the individual though they couldn't help her more than that. Well, no biggie, right? She's worked with less before.]

"Man, I haven't seen a computer like this since I found my mom's laptop in the back of the hallway closet with that 8-track player..."
[Guess she could give it a try.

Plopping down on a bench, she'd open up the laptop that soon booted up; giving her simple instructions on how to proceed.]

[Sherlock_corn]

Heeeeeyyy anyone there?

[Sherlock_corn]

Cuz this place is SO trippy! ( ≧Д≦)
Didn't think there'd be a place weirder than NY.

Anyone wanna help a girl out in giving me the 411?

Prompt 2: Arrival-Exploration

[Usually locals and city dwellers even from where she was tended to just mind their own business and keeping to themselves. Here? Not so much or at least in this part of the city where some individuals, whom were definitely not human looking, were just eyeing you up and down. Was it because she was human? Guess she did stand out a lot more than others or maybe it was also the fact that she was bleeding. A few droplets that trailed sparingly from her hand with the smaller cuts on her arm.

She can't even remember HOW she got them when she woke up, but nothing life threatening. A few shakes of her hand when she felt the crimson trail from the cash in her palm unknowingly realizing it was catching unwanted attention along with the fresh smell that lingered around her. The only thing she could even smell was that lingering fish smell that was everywhere she went in this port town.]

'Okay, April juuuust need to find something to wrap this bad boy up and we can be on our way~'
[There was a nod of agreement to her very solid plan though she's not too sure where exactly she was going. For the most part just getting exploring and possibly searching for any blunt object along the way she could pick up on the way.

Her workshopping thoughts were interrupted when she bumped into someone. A hand coming up to brace herself pressing her bloodied palm against them without thinking. Which was sure to leave a stain once she pulled away quickly.]

"Oh my bad! Wasn't paying attention."

prompt 2

[soft_shelled]

[Fortunately for April she happens to bump into another teenager, sure one of the monsters, a manticore to be exact, but hey better than someone who might take umbrage at her bleeding on them?

Although the blood on the purple hoodie he is wearing is most certainly getting a complaint out of him.]

... It's fine, although you should pay more attention. Especially if you're bleeding like that.

[The voice is probably very familiar sounding to April, even if the person it's coming from is not. Although all that purple, maybe he is familiar.]

[aprillllloneil]

Ugh, sorry,s orry. Don't think anyone wants blood on them...especially that's not theirs for that matter...

[Ugh, that's even worse than just bumping into someone and just being able to go about her way. She'd attempt to try and fix that, but there's a high chance that she'd just make it worse. Since her own hand was just a mess right now, so why risk making the purple hoodie more of a mess than it was?

It wasn't bleeding as much anymore, but it hadn't dried too much to have stopped. A pain in the ass for sure when she got to wash her hands.

Dee..?

Head perked up quickly upon recognizing some of that familiarity in the voice. Blinking in confusion when his appearance completely threw her off. Or maybe there was a slight disappointment with it? I think I'm trippin' a little. I thought that was him for a moment..]

"Ah....?"

1, <TheCoolestTurtle>

[makesascene]

no 411 for you, cause I gotta penalize you for that username. Only baddie can use it, and she isn't here.

Pick a new one.

[sherlock_corn]

[aprillllloneil]

[Who is this rude nerd @ ing her AND taking her besties name?

Disrespect.]
Um, NOO?

If anyone should be penealized its U for takin usernames ಠ_ಠ

And banned because I'm sure you're like neither that COOL or a turtle.

False advertising.

1! <mynameiskirby>

[gourmandofthestars]

hiiii
im here!

whats a 411?

[He’s eager to help but once again befuddled by Earth terminology.]

1

[twitterbaited]

How the hell is this weirder than New York??

It's backwards as fuck! Not a single damn smartphone! It's like we all got kicked into a damn black and white sitcom.

III | Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal | actually apping this time!

[swordarc]

i. Graveyard

[III scrambles up into a sitting position as he awakens to find himself in a pit, eyes wide as he looks around in confusion. The last thing he remembers is...right. He was dueling Yuma. He lost. He was about to go home.]

...This isn't right. [Still, there's an easy solution to this: activate his crest and open a portal to go home.

Or it would be an easy solution, if his crest would work. It fails to even appear, remaining stubbornly absent from his hand as the minutes tick by. Sighing with frustration, III gives up for now and finally stands to climb out, only to realize another problem.

III is 5'2''. The pit is six feet deep and coated with fresh mud and dirt. Needless to say, he is not climbing out on his own.]

...Help?

ii. Town

[III is very bedraggled by the time he gets to town, covered in mud and grime from his own grave and generally in need of somewhere to get his bearings. At first, the city is a relief, the first sign of some sort of answer for what's going on here.

But then it's clear that it's not the relief he thought it was, as while some people are sympathetic to III and his situation, offering supplies and the clunkiest laptop he's ever seen, others are less helpful, either steering clear of him or glaring at him as he struggles to figure out what's going on.

Eventually, III gives up and sits down on a bench to look at the pamphlets he's been given, frowning at the info within about his supposed 'fate'.]

You know, this isn't a funny joke. [This...is a joke, right? Because it sounds ominously similar to what happened to his dad five years ago...]

iii. Network

un: WantsToBelieve

I heard there's some sort of ruins somewhere? Where are they???

[And then a second later:]

I didn't set that as my screenname.

iii | < HasNoFear >

[summonthesuit]

That depends which ruins you're looking for.

I don't recommend visiting them either way, mind. Most ruins here are dangerous. But the "where" depends on "which".

ii

[heyunderoos]

[Someone arriving all but bedraggled and covered in mud is sign enough people are emerging from the graveyard again. Peter sees his fair share of new people stumbling out from that direction looking more than a little lost.

III heavily sitting down on a bench just seeming dazed does make Peter slow down a little while walking. The guy definitely needs some help.]

Unfortunately, this isn't really a joke. [Peter is well aware he's more than a little startling to encounter. He's a 4'10 rodent. People's reactions vary wildly.] Do you need any help? Maybe some fresh clothes?