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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!
no subject
He does spare a startled moment at the name recognition inevitable. He grew up on the tales of Vox Machina, after all. Kind of hard not to when you grew up in Zephrah.]
You're Scanlan Shorthalt.
[He repeats because. That's. Yeah, wow.]
I thought you'd be taller. [...look. In Oyrm's defense it is rare that he is taller than someone. Even Chetney has an inch on him. But right, yes, they've got a vengeful spirit to deal with.]
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He notes the startle, but it doesn't really bother him. Name recognition is important when you're a bard, after all.]
The one and only.
[Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand there's the line he sort of loves and hates at the same time.]
Son, when they said I was bigger, they didn't mean in height.
no subject
[That sure is a response there, Scanlan. But Orym looks amused -- at least until he remembers they have bloodthirsty hounds and a horseman to deal with.]
I'm Orym, of the air Ashari. It's good to meet you. And it'll be even better if we live through this.
[So, currently newly acquired road-sword in hand, he starts forward, deciding to meet the hounds rather than wait for them to meet him, rushing in with a focused, deliberate swing of his blade. Once through one dog which vanishes into smoke. That is startling, and the second attack he'd meant to make on it is instead swept to the left at the next that charges in.]
no subject
[Hey, hey, it's total facts. What he lacks in stature, he makes up in other areas. All night long.]
Ah, one of Kiki's people. Guess I have to help you now. [Not that he wasn't going to, but he considered it. For a minute.
He watches the halfling make his way through the fight with an impressed nod before he casts his first spell with a shout of Bigby's Hand as he reaches to grapple the second hound so that it doesn't even reach his new acquaintance.]
How you like me now, mutha flocka?
no subject
Orym glances back to Scanlan with a quirk of a smile.]
All right, that was good.
[But they're not done yet. He turns back to the battle. The hounds are taller than he is, even standing on four legs, but that doesn't seem to concern him. His blade is quick, and the hounds are easily dispatched, going to smoke with barely any damage at all.
He wonders if they're just meant to tire them out before horseman gets to the,]
no subject
That was nothing.
[He spots the huntsman on horseback behind the hounds, lobs the one with Bigby's Hand before casting Thunderwave. From his crotch, because of course that's how that works. It amuses him to see all the hounds disappear and they're left with just the Huntsman.]
Now's the time for the real party, Orym. Better get yourself ready.
no subject
I'm always ready.
[Says the little fighter. He doesn't have his shield, which changes what might otherwise be his normal approach.
Since Scanlan has taken care of the hounds, Orym darts straight towards the oncoming horseman. He's small enough and quick enough that he can dart straight between the horse's legs, avoiding the thundering hoofs. A quick, deftly place slash of his sword on first one front leg and then a back one sends the horse stumbling and the horseman flying off his steed as Orym skids to the side just in time to not be crushed by the equine. He feels a little bad about that, but it's probably a demon ghost horse, right?]
no subject
Oh? Really now? I'll keep that in mind.
[Hey, he's taller than Scanlan and the gnome has no problem making sure that he is out of the front of the battle if Orym wants that spot so badly. That's where Grog, Lionel, Vax and Trinket spend so much time and he's okay with it not being him being hit.
He lets out a low whistle of approval before casting Inspiration on the fighter. Not that he appears to need it, but you never know, okay.]
Hey, Orym, move about three feet to the right, could you?
[That's all the warning he gives before running up a bit closer and casting Lighting Bolt at the horseman. (Of course it's also from his crotch. What kind of bard do you think he is?) He's pretty sure the horse is a lost cause and his fighting partner can take care of it if it's not down for the count yet.]
no subject
Orym is used to being at the front of the fray, so he's in his element for the most part. It's been a while since he's traveled with a bard -- since Dorian had to leave -- but he certainly appreciates the boost there.
And he doesn't hesitate to move when Scanlan asks, not hesitating even if he's not sure why he's moving. He's smart enough to not want to be around for whatever the gnome has planned.
When there's more crotch lightning, he realizes he's made the wise choice. He turns his attention back to the horse, who doesn't look like it will be getting up any time soon if ever.
The horseman, on the other hand, despite being knocked prone by Scanlan's lightning, is getting back to its feet again.]
Shit.
no subject
Scanlan is pleased to see the fighter move, but he shouldn't have expected anything less, considering he's one of Keyleth's people. He also sees the horsman get up again and the swear from Orym.]
Got that right! [He moves Bigby's Hand over to try and grapple the horseman but it seems to go right through him.] ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?
no subject
[Orym says with so much understatement it nearly overloads his system. He moves to situation himself between Scanlan and the Horseman as the now on-foot-specter.]
The stories said he can't cross running water, right?
[He thinks that's what they said.] Maybe we make a break for it?
no subject
[He doesn't have his swords. He doesn't use them that much, but he's usually pretty good when he does. However, he doesn't have Mythcarver. He never thought he'd miss that damn thing so much as he does now.
Scanlan wracks his brain to figure out what to do. Running water....]
Yeah, let's run. I'll cast Dimension Door when we get close to a bring and then we can pop across whatever body of water we find and hope to hell that works.
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[Orym agrees. It's a solid plan, as solid as any other that they have right now at least.]
I think there was a stream that way.
[If he remembers right from when he'd made his way out here to begin with.] Let's go.
[Orym will wait for Scanlan to go, will hang back just a bit.]
no subject
A moment of brilliance strikes him and he drops concentration on Bigby's Hand. His favorite spell dissipates and Scanlan quickly casts Otiluke's Resilient Sphere. When the large bubble wraps around the horseman and the damn thing doesn't come out, he pumps his fist and starts to run towards the stream.]
Magic is the best. Who needs a sword.
[And when he can see the stream, he casts Dimension Door and pulls on Orym's arm to yank him through. A second later, they appear about three hundred feet on the other side of the water with the magic door disappearing quickly.]
You know, I'm sorta glad that we're about the same size. Keeps that thing relevant.
no subject
[Orym answers him, in amusement. But he is also running full speed at this point in time, even if Scanlan has done a good job of slowing down their pursuit for the moment. A good spell for sure.
And then he's being pulled through another spell, keeping his feet as he skids to a stop suddenly on the other side of the river.]
Hey, however it worked. Thanks. ...hopefully they meant what they said about running water stopping it.
no subject
[Learn a spell, Orym. Even Percy has a few of them!
Scanlan stands at the edge of the stream, waiting to see if they'll be pursued more, but he can't help but the excited whoop that escapes when he realizes that their pursuer is still stuck in his bubble.]
Of course it worked! I'm Scanlan Shorthalt.
no subject
Orym tucks the sword he snatched off the side of the road at his back and turns to face Scanlan Shorthalt.]
Yeah, you mentioned that before too. Good to meet you, now that we're not being attacked by ghost stories.
no subject
He looks over the halfling with a raised eyebrow.]
You don't sound suitably impressed. Surely the tales of my deeds have spread far and wide over Exandria and into this strange new world. I mean, how could the Fox not pick me to help me expand my potential?
Perhaps you need me to sing you the tale of my deeds in the Whitestone Rebellion?