September 2022 Test Drive Meme

[folkie]

SEPTEMBER 2022 TDM

INTRODUCTION

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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.

[ Prompt One ★ Prompt Two]

GOLD WAS THE COLOUR

Content Warnings: mood-altering substances.

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.

HELL WAS THE JOURNEY

Content Warnings: aggressive dogs, decapitated spectres, potential violence.

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!

Comments

[lostwithinatrace]

Shikeo stares at Rezo's hand, not at all sure what to make of it.

Right. He's a cat. Should he just...? Do the thing? He looks side to side to make sure no one's looking (like someone is going to judge a cat for wanting to get petted). And just... hesitantly... push his head against Rezo's hand. It feels nice, and he hasn't felt a touch like that since... well, his mom passed away. Sure, Dambi hugged him, and Timber would occasionally rustle his hair, but it wasn't the same thing.

If it were possible for a cat to go pale, Shikeo's calico form would.

"I have no idea what a dullahan is, but I sure hope not. Otherwise I'll be bringing a lot more problems with me." Aside from having just run acrost one in the wild. He probably should follow up that Trouble comment, shouldn't he? Just for clarity on his end.

"Troubles are pretty big. So maybe it was one. Troubles follow Traces, uhm... people like me, and try to kill us off." He'd gotten so used to the vocabulary, that he'd almost forgotten how easy it was to confuse those words with their common definitions. "I can usually fight against normal people okay, but Troubles... Troubles are too strong. So I have to run a lot. They seem to leave normal people alone, though."

[redprayer]

Once Shikeo starts pushing his head against Rezo’s hand, Rezo begins to carefully stroke him, running his fingers gently over the top of Shikeo’s head. His fur is soft; it feels very nice, and Rezo had half-forgotten what a cat- as he realizes this creature must be- felt like.

“A dullahan is a cursed undead spirit, bound to a suit of armor. They are also known as death knights, and they can unleash terrible curses upon people just by pointing at them. But like all types of the undead, they are vulnerable to white and astral magic. Our headless horseman seems to bear some similarities to such spirits.” Shikeo didn’t ask for an explanation of what a dullahan is, but he’s getting one anyway!

Rezo tilts his head, thoughtful, at Shikeo’s description of a ‘Trouble’ and how they behave. It’s a little vague, so he goes ahead and fishes for more detail. “And what does it mean to be a Trace?”

[lostwithinatrace]

Shikeo finds his back arching against the strokes as he curls and presses for more. You know, a guy could get used to this.

And, well, dullahans definitely don't sound like Troubles. He's never heard of one cursing anybody. Haunting, maybe, if one wanted to call it that. And he's not sure if he would call a Trouble an undead, either. He's pretty sure they're alive. But then, it never occurred to him to ask Timber about the status of their heartrate.

"Traces are people who have a... an ability. I don't know how many different kinds there are. I only learnt what a Trace was a few months ago, from Timber. Timber can make blades from his body, and Dambi can turn into a fox. Troubles can kind of smell Traces. And well... my ability makes a scent. And since I don't know how to control it, I attract a lot of them."

Literally the only reason Shikeo isn't purring at getting pets right now is because he's wrapped up in his own problems. Having to describe them isn't necessarily bad, but it does feel a little weird, filling someone else in on his life circumstances. Without Timber to regulate him, he's probably saying a lot more than he should.

[redprayer]

Rezo continues to stroke Shikeo’s head and back, occasionally stopping to scritch behind his ears. It is, admittedly, probably a little weird for Rezo to be petting a sapient talking cat. But hey, it feels nice, and the cat doesn’t seem to be complaining!

“That’s quite a range of abilities,” Rezo remarks. He notes how Shikeo doesn’t directly state what his is, only that it’s scent-related somehow. “And these Troubles quite literally smell you out? I can imagine how they would be difficult to avoid.”

He’s imagining these Troubles as canine sort of creatures, now. Rezo smiles and suggests, “If they have sensitive noses perhaps you could try using pepper against them.”