![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
September 2022 Test Drive Meme
SEPTEMBER 2022 TDM
INTRODUCTION
Welcome to Folkmore's monthly Test Drive Meme! Please feel free to test drive any and all characters regardless of your intent to apply or whether you have an invite or not.
All TDMs are game canon. You can choose to have your TDM thread be your introduction thread upon acceptance or start fresh. Each TDM will provide a scenario for how characters arrive in-game that particular month.
Playing TDMs will allow characters to immediately obtain canon items from homes especially weapons or other things they may have had on their person when they were pulled from their worlds! There will always be a prompt that provides some sort of "reward" to characters who complete certain tasks.
Current players are allowed to have in-game characters react to TDMs via the Network or make a log with the prompts. Current players are always encouraged to tag new people on the TDM!
TDM threads can be used for spoon spending at any time by characters accepted into the game.
Content Warnings: mood-altering substances.
What a Wonderful Harvest
"TRICK."
"TREAT."
What a Wonderful Harvest
It's harvest season in Folkmore. Apples, squash, potatoes, onions, peaches, sweet corn... all manner of crops are ready to be gathered, and golden fields fall willingly before the scythe. The air has a chill to it that you can mostly ignore in the sun but runs deep when you stand in the shadows.
After arrival you will find yourself out in said fields, maybe a little disoriented but not in any danger. It's peaceful.
In the farmlands you might be able to hear music floating on the wind. Follow it, or just wander by accident, and you'll find yourself coming upon what looks like some kind of costume party: people dressed up in cloth and vegetables - mostly gourds as masks - are singing and dancing around an enormous pole surmounted by the biggest Jack-O-Lantern you've ever seen.
The pumpkin people seem shy, but they won't turn you away if you wish to join their celebration - there are other Star Children like yourself here, and you might feel a little more comfortable with them. At least you can see their real faces. You can drink some apple cider and carve some pumpkins yourself if you like, or help out by husking some corn.
At some point, you will become aware of the fact that the dancers have stopped, and the object they've been dancing around has moved. The Jack-O-Lantern is looking at you.
The pumpkin king leans down, eternally smiling.
"Trick or treat?" he asks you in a deep voice. You'll have to pick one!
"TRICK."
The partygoers all watch you carefully. The lord of the harvest appears to think for a moment, then nods his massive head. One of the veggie dancers approaches you with a tray upon which are five cups of cider.
"Pick your poison," you're told, and you can only hope it's not literal!
Four of the cups of cider will have no effect whatsoever. But the fifth?
That fifth cup of cider makes you feel more social. Less reserved. Downright friendly, even. You want to talk and joke with people even if that isn't normally something you'd do. You might even join the vegetable dancers for a spin, and drag someone else along with you! Your judgment isn't quite impaired, but your inhibitions are definitely lowered. Might be a quick way to make some new friends, though!
"TREAT."
You are offered a large basket, held so that you cannot see inside. After some fumbling, you pull something out. What is it? It's an envelope. Or a cassette tape. Or a photograph. It might be the mixed tape you created for your high school crush, the poem you wrote about your broken heart, the letter you never mailed to your estranged father. It's something personal that is connected to someone from home somehow. As you hold it in your hands, you will feel an irresistible urge to explain it to the person next to you no matter how embarrassing or painful it might be. You can only hope that they aren't a colossal dick about it.
Content Warnings: aggressive dogs, decapitated spectres, potential violence.
GET AHEAD
GET AHEAD
The sun sets earlier and earlier every day, but that doesn't mean there's suddenly nothing to do! The warm lights of homes all over Folkmore welcome people inside for parties. Of course, the Spirit People of Folkmore are rarely humanoid, so you may find yourself at a dance for frogs or a cocktail party for round fuzzy critters with giant eyes. Regardless of what kind of creatures you wind up partying with, they are excellent hosts!
When food has been had and drinks are flowing, someone suggests a time honoured tradition: the telling of ghost stories.
The guests take turns, spinning tales both familiar and not. One such tale is that of the Horseman and his Hounds.
This, the storyteller insists, is a true tale, and is as follows:
Folkmore is home to many Spirit People, and many other creatures besides. While most of these wish only to live their lives, there are certain powers that Thirteen leaves to their own devices, no doubt for reasons all her own. When the autumn harvests come and the leaves burn with colour and fall to the ground, the dominant spirit of lonely places is the apparition of a figure on horseback, without a head. Some versions of the story claim the horseman's head is carried before him on the pommel of his saddle, while others say instead the spirit carries a lit Jack-O-Lantern in place of it... and wishes to find a more suitable replacement. No matter the variation, the rest of the legend is the same: in autumn, on lonely roads, unlucky travelers will hear the baying of hounds. Moments later they will see the Horseman upon his stallion, and then the unholy troop will pursue the hapless travelers across hill and valley.
Some tales are told of Star Children fighting off the spectral hounds and challenging the Horseman to a fight, with varying levels of success. All are in agreement, however, that the sure method of survival is to escape over running water. Easy enough in some parts of Folkmore... less so if you happen to be caught out in the desert of Cruel Summer.
All parties must end, and this one does too, which means you now have to make your way home. Not that you're scared or anything, but maybe it's wise to walk with someone else tonight...
Not that it matters. Ultimately you and your companion will find yourself on a lonely stretch of road somewhere, and just as you've managed to convince yourselves that nothing out of the ordinary is going to happen you hear it.
The Hounds.
Turn and you'll see them, dark and sleek, and beyond them their infernal master. Atop a gleaming black stallion, the Horseman is gigantic in height and muffled in a cloak.
Whether you run or stand and fight is entirely up to you. As if to make it more of a fair fight, there are weapons hidden off the road - stumble into a ditch and you might find a rifle or a sword. The Hounds have very sharp teeth but they themselves cannot be injured - if struck they simply turn to black smoke and vanish. The Horseman cannot be killed - he has no head! - but if you fight him to a standstill he will reward you with the gift of something from your homeworld. This can be a weapon or magical item.
If you manage to cross a stream or a river, the spectres will vanish with howling and laughter.
ODDS BODKINS
You're likely to be shaken up after your encounter, so it's relief when you see that there's a bonfire lit not far past the water you've crossed. Perched all around it are a bunch of different owls, many wearing hats. They all swivel their heads to look at you before they hoot and gesture for you to come near. There, set up to one side of the bonfire, is a long low table laden with drinks in many different colours and little cakes and cookies. You always thought owls ate mice, but whooo's to say? Hoo? Get it? On another low table are supplies for patching people up in case your fight with the Horseman got a little intense! The owls don't have hands, but maybe there's a kind stranger nearby who'd be willing to help you? Or maybe you just want to talk to someone who has their head on right!
Jason Grace | PJO/Riordanverse | Legend
get ahead
wildcard
treat
She offers a smile that's genuine, if not a bit strained. ] How long ago was this picture taken?
no subject
Uh.
[He has to pause to do some mental math – math that's made much more complicated by some Weird Demigod Shit. At least it's a distraction from whatever other mess of emotions he was feeling. Eventually he gives a little half shrug, smile turning a bit self-deprecating.]
I think maybe 9 or 10 years? I'm not completely sure, though. I wasn't around back then.
no subject
He answers though and she gives a slight nod. Not too long, though perhaps longer for him than it might be for her. ]
No? But the picture is still important to you?
no subject
[For some reason. But he's focusing on the socializing thing so he doesn't have to overthink that too much.]
But...yeah. I don't have a lot of pictures of her, and we've been apart for most of our lives. It's just nice to have something of hers, y'know?
[Maybe that's weird. Siblings tend to bicker and all that, right? But he'd gone so long without any family at all that he'd wanted to latch onto Thalia and never let go. Life wouldn't let that happen, of course, but this was at least more than he'd ever had growing up.]
no subject
I can understand that. Trinkets with sentimental value are often pleasant to have, especially when they remind you of family. [ Things that triggered memories and brought back little stories of time spent. Or time that could have been spent together. Sometimes it was nice just to be reminded. ] I assume it was not your choice to be apart? [ It sounds as though he'd been too young to make much of any choice. ]
no subject
[He gestures vaguely. He wanted to end that with gods, but hell if he knows what relationship any of the other people around here have with the brand of weirdness he's used to. He wouldn't want to convince a complete stranger he's insane right off the bat.]
I was two when we were separated, and I can barely remember anything from back then anyway.
no subject
I think most humans lack memories from that young of an age. I hope you're able to make memories with her one day.
no subject
[Okay, the way she said that was weird, right? Or is he just overthinking things? Maybe it's just a suspicion born of being a demigod and having too many encounters with strangers overly interested in his life that turned out to be gods. But she does have that kind of air about her, somehow distant even while being perfectly friendly.
Jason turns the photo in his hands idly, hesitant.]
...Not to sound completely crazy – or rude, I hope – but...are you human?
no subject
To answer his question though she shook her head. ] No. I'm not.
treat
which is why he's more than willing to listen to whatever story goes along with it.
he doesn't want to ask anything too troubling, so he keeps the majority of the questions to himself. no point in dragging up more bad memories for him. )
Oh yeah? ( his tone is deadpan, but he's not fooling anyone. he cares. ) Three of you look like trouble.
no subject
[It takes him a second to process that assumption before he gives an awkward little laugh, turning the picture for a clearer look. It's not unreasonable to assume the blond kid is him at a glance, but no, that's some other young teen. Leaner and lankier, a bit darker a shade of blond. Dead, Jason's heard, but he hasn't really thought it was his place to dig into that much.]
Not me, sorry. I wasn't around at the time. I don't think you're wrong, though. Thalia's especially the troublemaker type.
get ahead
The young human's figure not so far off as she walks along, and it's only as the barking continues that she furrows her brow, calling out. )
Are you planning on staying the night out here?
( Those dogs might end up being a problem if they're more feral than controlled, or if they're being set out on someone's farmland at night to keep out some other creeping disaster. )
no subject
No, I just...don't really know where I'm supposed to go?
[He's not really the sort to just barge into a house and hope it's empty, after all. And it'a not like he can't camp out if necessary. It's just not especially appealing with the sound of those dog's in the distance only seeming to get louder. Dogs wouldn't be the worse thing he's had to fight off, but that kind of thing isn't really conducive to a restful night.]
no subject
( She keeps her body posture relaxed; closer, he can perhaps make out the pointed tips of her ears when she turns her head. Not much hair there to disguise that particular feature, but also nothing telling what it means, for someone to appear mostly human.
To her, however, it's young people, human or otherwise, and a duty that was to her clan first, then to far too many people, keeping track of the young recruits just like she'd teach or work with the younger members of her clan. Was that only five years ago? It feels more like a decade or more. )
Well, there's a few places to stay closer to town in that direction, ( she gestures with her right hand, opting not to bring her left arm with its prosthesis out from under the fall of her cloak; ) and you can see about claiming lodgings in any of the regions you prefer tomorrow. It's a mix of all different kinds, homes set in the ground, houses built in trees, ones stacked up like in cities, larger homes more like the ones on the farms, but built in clusters, closer together.
( Listing off options without the proper names, only pausing because the baying sounds like it's getting... closer. Like a number of dogs are getting closer. )
Though an inn should do for the night, hm? I'm heading that direction myself.
( Because she hasn't decided on anything that feels so arbitrary as 'settling in,' instead moving around in a way she hasn't really been able to do until the last few months. Before that, it'd been years... and the solitude now is made up for the sociability of the days, and the whole oddity of the spoon in the first place. )
My name's Ellana Lavellan. I've only been around the Fox's playground for about a month myself.
( Those dogs, though... she turns her head fully, narrowing her eyes and looking in the direction she hears their cries coming from. In the far flung shadows of the forest on the far side of the farmland field they're crossing, something moves. )
no subject
Thanks. Yeah, an inn would work. [He isn't rushing to settle down either no matter what the Fox had said about the permanence of all this. That can't be true.] And I'm Jason Grace.
[The tenseness in his stance quickly returns as he follows the woman's gaze, squinting into the darkness at the moving shapes. The barking gets louder and louder and suddenly there's a howl, and the shadows break away from the forest. In the field, the silhouettes are more distinct.
And there's a larger one at the center, looking disconcertingly like a humanoid figure on a horse.
Jason frowns, glancing back towards the direction of the town.]
...How far off is that inn?
[The Fox hadn't seen fit to let him bring a weapon, but he's not exactly helpless without one.
It'd been a clear night, perfect for an outdoor festival, but light from the moon and stars seems to be quickly dimming as clouds roll in. The low rumble of thunder joins the din of the barks and howls.]
no subject
It is, however, convenient as a focus, when she needs one. Which with whatever's seated on what appears to be a horse driving the hounds before it pounds on, thudding hooves echoing like a sense of inevitability, howls of the dogs reaching their own new crescendos, may be a good thing indeed. )
Over the footbridge, lengths behind us. Further than we'd outrace those without slowing them down.
( Timing of the storm rolling in leaves her lips pressing into a thin line. Weather is weather, however, and here it often feels even more arbitrary. )
Are you comfortable with magic, Jason Grace?
no subject
I don't do magic, but if you can, then go for it.
[ it's cool he can tank for the mage
It does feel a little weird not wielding a weapon. Like he doesn't really know what to do with his hands in this situation. But he settles for lifting them in front of him defensively, hands half curled.
At the front of the pack, the nearest of the hounds give another howl, and then charge forwards to lead the hunting party.]
no subject
Shifting stance and calling on one of her better distance spells, lightning arcs forward and out, striking the hounds and leaping from one to the next. Five or so in total are struck by the sudden, crackling energy, but the way they react isn't as a bodied creature. Once struck, hard enough to have sent a true hound sprawling if not dead, they dissipate into a cloud of whirling blackness, the hounds behind them bounding on past and through. )
Oh for—they might not be fully corporeal, but don't let them get their teeth in you!
( Because surprising as it was her attack proved particularly effective, there are many hounds, and that horseman, too large and his steed even larger, pounding the soil, unerringly headed their way. Dissipating didn't mean not dangerous. It only meant in the moment less permanent than physical hounds. )
no subject
But he doesn't flinch away from any of it, the magic speeding past him or the incoming enemies. It's only the shouted warning from behind that seems to give him pause for a moment before he refocuses.]
Teeth bad, got it!
[He'd been ready to straight grapple these things if needed, but the warning has him pivot at the last moment. As the leaders of the pack lunge at him, he instead thrusts his arms forward. The winds of the storm that'd rolled in so suddenly seem to redirect at his will with a powerful gust that blows the hounds back and scatters the lingering blackness of the ones already dissipated.
Thunder rumbles overhead, but it feels less ominous and more satisfied, almost.]
no subject
No, not what she's focussed on right now. She spreads her palm wide, sending out a succession of smaller bolts of lighting as Jason appears to direct the wind, the lightning once more changing its arc to pass closer to him before impacting into the members of the pack sent tumbling by his movement.
That storm, she estimates, is starting to sound pleased. With enough lightning gathering around herself in various fights, she's heard something almost similar before. )
And that's not magic?
( She calls out, even as she keeps a sense of her mana, the breathing that patterns her to swift recovery as she manages, until she can summon another arcing chain of lightning that reduces another handful of hounds to wisps of shadow, sent flung and scattered by the lingering unsettled air.
The horseman, unfortunately, is almost upon them, his overset hounds rolling over and scrabbling up to their feet, numbers reduced but not yet eradicated. Unlike its hounds, the headless rider doesn't seem to register any concern or wariness, a carved pumpkin revealing itself from beneath the folds of its cloak, bright light streaming out of triangular eyes.
Don't tell her that'd come from the earlier festival— )
no subject
No, but do you really wanna have this conversation right now?
[This really isn't the time to explain demigod shit. And frankly, he doesn't quite understand it either. Magic is a Hecate thing, and thus different. Or something.
He turns as he finishes blasting away another hound, and sudden the horseman is right there, looming above him. The horse rears back and its hooves come dangerously close to clocking him in the head. Jason ducks it, and on instinct thrusts an arm up and downward, as if dragging something straight down from the sky through sheer willpower.
A boom of thunder, and suddenly a bolt of lightning strikes straight down to wear he stands. Earth and scattered shadows are thrown about by the blast, and Jason darts backwards out of the dust without even waiting to see if it'd had any effect on the horseman, breathing heavily.]
no subject
No, no, let's save that for the inn!
( Since if none of this is magic in his context, she wants to understand what it is. Partly because that's how she is, and possibly because she's already run into hearing what magic is and isn't in concretes that only seem to serve individual worlds.
Then there, a lightning bolt from high in the sky, Ellana's sympathetic magic for it causing a sparkling burst of lights around her even as she throws up a barrier around Jason, to deflect some of the flying debris.
The horseman emerges, horse snorting and limping, from the smoke and wreckage. The injury to the horse's hindquarters prevents another rear, leaving the horseman to his sword, near singing as it cuts through the night air. )
I'll try to slow up the horse, can you strike twice?!
( Without waiting for an answer, she pools the mana and wills the ice glyphs into being, a series of them manifesting underneath the horse. Blocks of ice jut upward attempting to encase a limb for a time, preventing it from progress. The horseman hacks at the ice at one side, sending chunks of it flying.
One hits a surviving hound, who promptly bursts into smoke with a whimper. )
get ahead
He's not very subtle walking up the road; his feet come with a built-in flashlight, and the numerous skulls he's wearing clack together. They're not especially loud, but they're not made for stealth. And lo and behold-- there's someone out here. Whether his presence is needed is another matter, but with the ghost stories the natives were telling earlier, he wouldn't be surprised if there's something in store for them. ]
Hail, stranger! [ It feels so weird calling someone that, why did he do that?! It felt right in the moment... ] Care for some company all the way out here on your lonesome? There are ghouls about, supposedly.