folkooc | September 2022 Test Drive Meme

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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Nice aim!" Orym calls back, never taking his eyes off the oncoming hounds. And he means it. He sees the arrow whizzing past, and hasn't seen one miss yet, even if the dogs seem to fizzle once they're struck.

The horseman is almost upon them now though, and Orym turns his attention to the rider. Even for a full size human, the large horse and its imposing rider would be looming. For the halfling? He feels like he has to tilt his head back nearly all the way even to look up where the creature's head should be.

But that doesn't stop him. He holds his ground as the horse charges down on him, waiting until the last moment before he darts between the horse's legs to attack from beneath, hoping to send the animal down and unseating its rider.

Clint meanwhile slides to the side trying to draw the horseman's attention toward him as hopefully buy the smaller man some time to do what he needs to do. He'd try for a kill shot, but the thing has no head and he doubts aiming for the heart would do anything either. He aims at the horseman's hands hoping to knock them loose from the reins and maybe cause the thing to fall off. He loses the arrow and hopes for the best.

It's a well timed maneuver between the two of them -- unintended and unplanned as it may be. Orym takes one of the horse's legs out with a careful slice through muscle and tendon that leaves the beast stumbling into the ground. The arrow that finds the horseman's hands and the faltering of the horse is enough to send the spirit tumbling to the ground.

Orym manages to dodge the falling horse and the falling rider, but it leaves him skidding in the opposite direction and then scrambling back to his feet, trying to reach the horseman before it gets its bearings back. "Quick, while he's down!"

Clint is used to reacting before he thinks and as Orym calls out he's running to cover the Horseman. He has the bow fully pulled back and is staring down at the creature before he realizes what he's doing and he stops. Clint was used to people assuming he was nothing more than Avengers support, the long range fighter is always put in the back. But Clint Barton is smarter than people have ever given him credit for...well people who didn't know him well anyway.

As he stares down at the Headless Horseman he realizes something, this fight hadn't ever been about hurting them...the hounds had been chasing them yes...but none of them attacked. "It was a test," he breathes, "huh?" He lowered his bow slightly, not enough to assume safety, but enough that it was clear he wasn't going to take the kill shot. "Yeld," he says, his voice calm, but commanding.

The Horseman manages to nod and then horse, man and hounds are gone leaving two packages on the ground. "I think we won," he calls out to his companion, "he left us presents."

Orym is sprinting towards the fallen horseman when he sees Clint lower his bow that small bit, and it's enough that his steps slow and he approaches at a cautious walk. A test? This wouldn't be the first time he's seen something like that.

Presents is definitely new though. The halfling approaches the package warily. "That's a new one."

Out of an abundance of ~~paranoia~~ caution, he pokes at the nearest package with the tip of his sword. Nothing. It's a cursory exploration, but it doesn't seem to be trapped. He drops to a knee and glances at Clint. "Guess we should find out what we've got." So he'll see about opening the one nearest him and, well, wind up instantly delighted because it's "my shield?"

Clint slings the bow over his shoulder and picks up the smaller item. A look of sadness crosses his face as he realizes it's Laura's watch. He flips it over to check and notes the number 19 on the back. "I told you to hang onto this," he says quietly as he straps it on his wrist and makes sure the face is turned toward him. He misses his family even though he knows they won't be missing him. He would have still followed the Fox, because he's a hero and helping people is what they do no matter how dangerous things get.

He then takes a second to compose himself and gather up some additional arrows from another quiver on the roadside. He grabs a rifle too because it never hurts to have extra weapons and then turns back to his fighting companion. "That's some nice footwork," he says. "I'm Clint by the way..don't know if I said that before things went nuts."

Orym is a bit busy looking over his shield, as if he's making certain that it's really his. He's not so busy that he doesn't notice the way Clint reacts to his prize, but he thinks it may be a private moment, so he'll try not to pry.

Too much. "Something of yours from home, too?"

Orym will ask that, because that part is rather strange to him still. He stands again and settles his shield where it belongs on his back. He feels much less naked without it.

"Thanks. You're good with a bow." Good i san understatement. Orym closes the short distance between them holding out a hand in greeting. "Orym. It's good to meet you, Clint. Thanks for the help back there."

"Yeah," Clint admits quietly, "a family thing." It was actually a bit more than that, but Clint was still learning how to talk to people from other worlds and he's found keeping things simple is easiest.

He kneels down to take the offered hands. "We make a pretty good team," he says, "it's been a while since I've fought with someone as well trained as you."

"We did. Been a while since I've fought with an archer anywhere near that good either."

He shakes Clint's hand before offering a smile. He appreciates the other man being on the same level as him, even if he's used to looking up in general. "This place is definitely living up to its reputation for strangeness so far." And he's only been here a very short time.

Clint looks around and nods. "My world had some weird stuff, aliens, robots, magic, but this place is weird even by my standards. I mean a real Headless Horseman that's a lot...and I know wizards who can portal just about anywhere they want to."

"Yeah, magic isn't my thing, but it's not new to me." Orym gestures around him with both hands now. "All this though? Real new."

A shake of his head and he inclines his head down the road. "Maybe we should get going before some other ghost story decides we need testing."

Clint stands up and nods, shifting his position so that his good ear is facing toward Orym. "I don't mind heading wherever you were going before we met up," he says, shifting his grip on the rifle so he can snap it into a shooting position quickly. "I was just kind of learning my way around anyway."

September 2022 Test Drive Meme

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