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August & September 2023 Test Drive Meme
August & September 2023 TDM
Introduction
Welcome to Folkmore's bimonthly 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 and work like "mini-events". For new players and characters, you can choose to have your TDM thread be your introduction thread upon acceptance or start fresh. Current players are also allowed to have in-game characters post to the TDM so long as they mark their top levels ‘Current Character.’
TDM threads can be used for spoon spending at any time by characters accepted into the game.
Playing and interacting with the 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.
🦊 New Star Children meet the Fox still in their worlds, and she brings them into the new realm of Folkmore. As you follow her, your body begins to change and new characteristics emerge. These may stay for a while, or perhaps they will hide away after. And during all of this, the Fox explains to you where you will be going: to Folkmore.
and then... you fall like a shooting star, falling to the land in a burst of starlight.
🦊 Experienced Star Children are already familiar with this time of the month. There are shooting stars all across the sky, and some fall to the land, which means the Fox has brought new arrivals. These newly arrived Star Children will face some tests, but Thirteen wants the more seasoned residents to participate as well.
Perhaps you follow the falling stars on your own, or perhaps the Fox simply teleports you there, but it appears you too will be part of this.
Content Warnings: Difficulty seeing, possibility of drowning, forced relocation
Fog & Footsteps
Fog & Footsteps
Some Star Children find themselves on land. The air is foggy and damp, blurring and distorting vision making it difficult to tell where they are, what’s real and what isn’t until–finally–Star Children find themselves on wet sand. Continue marching forward and trees begin to form a skeletal border, dark shadows growing and stretching further into their depths. Star Children who have experienced being exiled before can feel a path through the trees should they choose to venture further. Star Children who haven’t been exiled can feel resentment building around them and have greater difficulty navigating the path ahead.The Will or the Wisp
Anyone who glances back may find footsteps in the sand alongside theirs. The more anyone looks back, the more prints appear. They’re inconsistent like their maker hops or flies part of the time or fades in and out of the physical universe… or something else. They may be human, or animal, or something Star Children can’t quite put a name to.
The longer Star Children dwell on them, the more tempting they are to follow—familiarity, comfort, curiosity, something. The footsteps eventually lead Star Children down a branching path toward a wall of thick, colorless fog. Inside the fog, there are enchanting wisps of light dancing just out of reach, urging Star Children to keep following. Just a little further, the sweet voices promise.A Magical Day
Continue onward and soon outlines appear in the mist, showing just who (or what) the earlier footsteps belong to–distorted human or animal shapes that exist only where fog is displaced by the will-o’-the-wisps they carry like lanterns. They lure Star Children deeper into Exile, all the while making promises they have no intention of keeping...
Salvation comes in the form of a fellow Star Child guided toward someone in distress by shifting sands. They radiate starlight that pierces through the thick fog around them, allowing people to find the sandy forest path toward The Beach. Once Star Children reach it, they will both find an old, sea-battered treasure chest which offers characters a personal item from home and either a nonfunctional compass or lantern. A will-o-the-wisp will fly directly into the item, which doesn’t seem to make it work. The compass needle points toward somewhere in Exile, not north. The lantern doesn’t light up. However, when the Star Child is truly lost, the compass will point where they need to go and the lantern will light up any darkness. Each Star Child can only receive either the compass or the lantern.
Whether passing directly through the forest path or guided back to it, Star Children find a shoreline extending in either direction. Some water laps against the beach, but farther out is the long expanse of tenuous reality. Come September, it fades into the distance until it can no longer be seen. The beach itself is in Exile, heavy with the weight of magic. It feels reassuring and encouraging. Star Children can indulge in a sunless day at the beach, playing in the sand, and soaking in the magic. Those wishing for a bit more warmth can explore the shoreline north to the Boat Bonanza at the port where the Encantado reaches the ocean.Key Points:
🦊 Star Children may pass through a thick fog to reach a wet, sandy path that passes through trees and leads to The Beach in Exile.
🦊 If they keep looking behind them on the path they will find footprints following alongside their own. Those footprints will try luring characters deep into fog using will-o’-the-wisp lanterns, leading them into the swamp so they can drown them.
🦊 A fellow Star Child can act as a light to guide lost characters back to the safety of shore.
🦊 Star Children that are rescued from the lure or who rescue another Star Child will be rewarded with a non-weapon memento from home and either a compass or a lantern (not both).
🦊 Star Children that don’t succumb will simply continue forward to The Beach without issue and will have opportunities to find a non-personal item from their home worlds being sold at the market. See below.
🦊 If they keep looking behind them on the path they will find footprints following alongside their own. Those footprints will try luring characters deep into fog using will-o’-the-wisp lanterns, leading them into the swamp so they can drown them.
🦊 A fellow Star Child can act as a light to guide lost characters back to the safety of shore.
🦊 Star Children that are rescued from the lure or who rescue another Star Child will be rewarded with a non-weapon memento from home and either a compass or a lantern (not both).
🦊 Star Children that don’t succumb will simply continue forward to The Beach without issue and will have opportunities to find a non-personal item from their home worlds being sold at the market. See below.
Content Warnings: Possibility of drowning, fetch quests
Boat Bonanza
Boat Bonanza
Whether venturing up the coastline from Exile, floating down the Encantado River, or simply being plopped into the water, Star Children new and old find themselves in water. A strong wave rolls up the beach to drag suspecting and unsuspecting alike. Playful pinkish-red dolphins spray people off boats into the river. Or Star Children find themselves treading water deeper than they are tall with no land in sight. No worries, those who need help getting out of the water will get it. Along the shore, spirits in boats will pick up anyone in need of a ride and bring them back through the fog to the sounds of shouts and cheers and music to a large clear spot in the fog.Flotilla Afterparty
Boats come into view. Boats of all shapes and sizes, from single person kayaks to large houseboats, fishing craft and sailboats. They rise and fall with the waves but aren't otherwise moving. Ropes, planks, and bridges tie the boats together. Whether approaching by river or by sea, new boats explore the outskirts of the great conglomeration of boats and attach themselves—increasing the size of the gathered ships. So many boats are gathered that the shore isn't visible from new boats tying up.
Everyone's welcome aboard and to wander from boat to boat. Starfish spirits offer games of chance at low tables on broad open decks under awnings. There are even holes in the bottom of the deck, so players can dip their feet in cool water. A cephalopod band plays upbeat music other spirits and Star Children can dance to in competition with a scavenging of seagull spirits singing sea shanties as loudly as they can two boats over. Far from them, jellyfish spirits offer places to rest in quiet, with curtains drawn and sound dampened. Many spirits offer food and drink—seafood or seafood shaped candy or in the case of mystery flavored taffy, sometimes seafood flavored candy. Those who don't want freshly rolled sushi or take a chance with the candies can always see the Wandering Dog cart on the shore, where the dogs try very hard to be included.
Come September, nymphs pop up in the waters and start shooing the boats away until only the houseboats and some submarines remain. Some go off on their lonesome, but more of them form flotillas that float along the coastline continuing their activities and coming to shore to pick up any who wish to join them. A restaurant flotilla, a meditative flotilla, music performance flotillas, and even gambling flotillas. Should people want off and the boats aren't ready to go to shore, sometimes Catbus shows up, able to leap whatever the distance.Fetchquest
At any time, during the boat festival or smaller flotillas, Star Children may find non-personal items from their home world for sale. It may be a weapon or magical item. These spirits can sense who is from the same world as an item and will only offer them to those Star Children. These aren’t free! After all, these spirits pulled up these items from chests in the water. Star Children will need to do a few favors or barter something else to obtain the item from home. Star Children who help in Vasilisa’s, now mostly staffed by spirits, will find they have an easier time bartering… unless it’s in the Cuttlefish Curiosities shop. If the cuttlefish spirit smells a whiff of the grumpy old octopus spirit who has taken over as chef, that Star Child will have to do twice the work.Key Points:
🦊 Explore your way to Nereid where the Encantado reaches the shore or get dropped into the water.
🦊 Enjoy an enormous boat festival! All kinds of boats! All kinds of activities!
🦊 In September, the boat festival will split into multiple flotillas floating around the shoreline.
🦊 Do favors or barter goods to receive a non-personal item from home. It may be a weapon or magical item. A magical gun from your world? Yes. Your personal magical gun with your dog’s name engraved in it? No.
🦊 Enjoy an enormous boat festival! All kinds of boats! All kinds of activities!
🦊 In September, the boat festival will split into multiple flotillas floating around the shoreline.
🦊 Do favors or barter goods to receive a non-personal item from home. It may be a weapon or magical item. A magical gun from your world? Yes. Your personal magical gun with your dog’s name engraved in it? No.
Fog and Footsteps
[Tav will first hear a rustling through the branches overhead as some manner of creature glides low. This, followed by a dark shadow and a "whoosh" of wind as something quite heavy lands in a nearby thicket (and certainly does not crash into it by any stretch of the imagination). Cursing soon follows, something which sounds suspiciously like:]
Petty and utterly vindictive creature! Just you wait until I get my hands on that rod. "An equivalent trade," she said. "I've barely touched black magic!" Yet know one thought to mention the fool's errand that would await--!
[The silhouette begins to grow taller as it rights itself, and out of the dark appear two luminous yellow eyes, piercing and narrowed and staring straight at Tav.]
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As the creature lands, Tav is deaf to the sound of his lamentations, yet his eyes work perfectly well. His eyes- an elf's eyes- pierce the fog to make out the silhouette of a tall, broad humanoid. A powerful-looking humanoid- with his height in wingspan- and of course, the glow of those yellow eyes.
A harpy? Here?
He was familiar- too familiar- with their kind. And if there was but a single thing he had learned from this familiarity, it was not to give them the chance to sing. So he stands, abruptly, raising a hand aloft and to his side. The air itself seems to thump in response, as light bursts into existence within his palm, and then swirls around it- seemingly gathering into a form that looks, suspiciously, like a feather held between his fingers.
His eyes shine with that same light. Then his voice resounds- clear, and sharp.]
Tosir kvethkien!
[An incantation in the mother tongue of the arcane- draconic. The effect, utterly hideous laughter. Emet-Selch would feel slight amusement. At all things around him. The sorcerer that stands in front of him. The trees around him. The sogginess of the mist that has all but enveloped him. Perhaps even the directive he had been given that brought him here would seem for a moment, utterly ridiculous. He, a fool for following it. That would be undeniable, whether he smiles or tries not to- the feeling of faint lightness would be there, fleeting- before it disappears.
Yet that is only the beginning. Should the spell land and take its full effect, Emet-Selch would find his lips betraying him. A laugh would escape. Perhaps a snort. But that is only what comes next. If Tav's spell is successful, he would find that laugh or that snort accompanied by weakness of the legs. A guffaw, perhaps. Then the feeling of hysterics- rising from the pits of his stomach and knocking him to the ground. Of finding everything and anything, here, there, anywhere utterly and entirely hilarious.
Perhaps he would be rolling on the ground. Perhaps he would summon a modicum of decency and remain on his knees. Regardless- he would be in hysterics, feeling as though his sides were fit to burst.
...Providing the spell landed, of course.]
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[The realization comes just a moment too late for him to properly respond, never mind that the incantation is not one he - in all his centuries of life - has ever witnessed or heard of before. Nothing seems to happen at first, and then it does. An odd sort of lightness overcomes him as if he is caught in a freefall, as if he's rising up into space.]
[And is that not amusing? Him. Allowing such a spell to land! Here, in the midst of this godsforsaken wood, in this godsforsaken world where he has no goals, no great work, no purpose. And it's all because he was chasing after a dog! For a rod he does not even truly require.]
[A dark chuckle ripples through him, deep and self-deprecating as the Ancient sways on his feet, his wide shadowy wings rustling as his entire form quivers in misguided mirth.]
[By the Star, what is wrong with him? What is it he is attempting to do? Surely he can come up with a much better laid plan than this!]
[The chuckles turn louder as he falls to his knees. And then he erupts into open-mouthed laughter, higher and almost maniacal in scope as he flops over sideways clutching his chest. It hurts! It feels as if his insides might split in half. And yet he cannot bring himself to stop! ...and that in itself is the most pathetically hilarious part of all.]
[Emet-Selch laughs and laughs and laughs like a man gone mad.]
[He looks unbecoming! Ahahaha...]
[His robes have gotten all dirty! AhahahaHAhahaha...]
[Imagine! What would Hythlodaeus think if he saw him in such a miserable state? Or even the Warrior of Light! Any of them. ALL of them.]
[He snorts, almost choking on his own tongue, and begins to laugh again - louder this time, and far less reserved. Dammit. Damn it all! ...Someone help him, he might perish of asphyxiation. (If one who is already dead even need worry for such things, that is.)]]
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Small mercies, he supposes. Not that it is any sort of mercy for Emet-Selch, but for him? Absolutely. Utterly. The mere thought of taking on one of those things without at least one well-armed frontline type snatching their attention (and their claws) was a daunting one. At least this way, he could flee. He could refind the road he had traveled down upon, run a few hours. Make his way back to camp, rejoin the part of him that still slumbered beside the campfire, alert the others, and-
He moves backward, darkvision lighting the way for him. But Hells- the road now looks entirely different once again. He frowns- eyes narrowing. The footprints. His footprints. The other... thing's footprints. They are a mass of scuffs and scrapes in the sodden dirt. To someone like he, with absolutely no skill at the arts of tracking, ranging, or even basic survival, start, end, even basic direction is incomprehensible.
Still, he cannot stay here.
The spell's hold is weakening. He is certain.
He begins to move into a sprint- in whichever direction seems best.
And then the spell ends. The hold the spell enacts upon his mental state tenses, and then shatters- forcing him to skid to a stop and call upon another. Once again, the air around them seems to contract and pulsate- as if bidden.
If Emet-Selch would care to look, he would see him a short distance away- his back pressed to a tree, his hand from the wrist upward engulfed in a different light- a red one- trying to be as stealthy as stealthy could be.
...Stealth which was, decidedly, not in his skillset.]
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[Emet-Selch, however, has had quite enough of this. He stumbles to his feet with a groan, a stitch yet in his side - both of them actually - and moves to free his right hand in case he needs defend himself. He calls out into the fog, sounding none too please by this turn of events.]
Ah ah ah-! That will be quite enough of that!
[He straightens with an effort, his expression distinctly uncomfortable.]
Why don't you put that spell of yours away and allow us to settle this like gentlemen. Have you some quarrel with me?
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Perhaps there is more light at this part of the path. Should there have been, it would have appeared that this man certainly wasn't what he had thought. He wore clothes for a start. That, and he seemed to have humanoid legs- from what he could make out from them.
Even then, his magic is not dismissed. He remains pensive- suspicious- but at the very least, it is a small mercy that he is not firing whatever has clearly been primed for some time now.]
What are you?
[Do forgive him, Emet-Selch. That set of wings and those glowing, pulsating eyes have certainly thrown him.]
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[It takes some effort for Emet-Selch not to roll his eyes at the question. Is that how people greet one another these days? This is, after all, the second time he's been asked such a ridiculous question. Though, at present, it's hard to say how best to answer.]
A pity your manners aren't as polished as your spellwork.
[He shakes his head with a one-shouldered shrug, keeping his other hand free as his wings fold behind him like a long, impossibly dark shadow.]
Emet-Selch. Ancient, Ascian, half-faded soul of the dead. The Third Seat of the Convocation of Fourteen, sorceror of eld, and - according to a certain meddlesome fox deity - a "legend" amongst her captives.
Surely one of those answers will prove satisfactory.
[Emet-Selch studies the other man. He's seen all he needs to, he thinks, yet he's stubborn - and petty.]
And what are you? More importantly, what was that spell?
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I'll admit, most of those titles mean nothing to me. Though I'll admit... I'm glad to see another sorcerer. We're a rare breed.
[Emet-Selch does not seem a man especially given to smiles- but one is offered all the same. And to answer him...]
I'm Tav. A pleasure. ...The spell was hideous laughter. Developed by the Archmage Tasha... procured by me. You're unfamiliar with it?
[Well. He must be- given that he's asking. Strange. He would have thought that all across the multiverse knew of the Witch Queen who became a demigod.]
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Are we? Well I suppose it all depends upon the era.
[Or the world, rather.]
There was a time when everyone knew magic. Nowadays, alas, not so much.
[As to the question, he cannot help but frown all the more. He cannot fathom what wretched turn of events might lead to such a spell being well-known. And he cannot help the subconscious wince that overcomes him either.]
If I was familiar with it, I would have seen that all record and all memory of it had been buried in the darkest, most remote trench of the Indigo Deep. There are spells and enfeeblements, certainly, but your "hideous laughter" is most excessive.
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Emet-Selch's first statement calls to mind the Spellplague. An event that spanned only a singular decade- reshaping flesh, stone, magic... even space and time itself. He does not linger upon it. Does not bring it to words. For such things were as they were, with no way to go back. Not even for the gods themselves. So instead, he focuses upon the latter statement. And he cannot help but chuckle.]
Come now. Knowledge is knowledge. And it did snare you well enough.
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Yes, yes, of course it did! Yet unbeknownst to you, I was in the middle of retrieving a magical artifact before my untimely fall, and I seriously doubt the collaborator who brought it all this way has seen fit to wait while I tittered on the ground like a deranged hyena.
[And just where is that fickle creature anyway? Emet-Selch lifts his eyes, squinting through the fog until he catches sight of a distant glimmer of color winking back at him from some malms away.]
[A groan. Back to the start, it seems.]
I don't suppose you are any good with dogs?
no subject
Well...
[A magical artifact...? Well then. That restores his focus. Thanks to his current lack of, well, anything equipment-wise, any relic left out in the open would have him willing to talk down a beholder. And, well, even if the relic is already spoken for and Emet, crash notwithstanding, seems capable enough of finding it by himself...
He should help. He has sidetracked him quite a lot.]
I'm not capable of speaking to them, if that is what you mean. But I can try to assist you.
[Except that he lacks wings himself. He has started to manifest them, certainly, though that fact is not apparent to him. If anything, the two vague pains at his shoulders could have been related to anything- strain from the journey through the mists. Walking for hours upon hours with the fox. Hells- even battles back within Toril.
Regardless, the problem is hardly prevalent. Knowledge of the changes Folkmore would bring to him or not, he has his wings in the form of his magic- most specifically, a certain enchantment. He takes a few steps from Emet-Selch, readying both the verbal and somatic components of the spell.]
Facera ascendio.
[Seemingly instantly, he is enshrouded within a pair of gigantic wings that glitter within the dim light. Unlike Emet-Selch's, formed of feather and bone- these are formed of magic itself- shimmering and vaguely translucent. The air around them seems to bend itself and scatter light in disparate directions in order to accommodate them- and his eyes are filled with pale blue light.
He hovers perhaps a foot or two from the ground, seemingly exerting effort to stop the magic from hurtling him upward throughout the sky.]
This won't last indefinitely. Let's move.
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[While he'd love to stand around and discuss magical theory, he would like to retrieve the rod before "Azem"'s associate dissipates completely. With that in mind, Emet-Selch focuses his mind, allowing his wings to unfurl once more like two dark shrouds, raising them once, and then twice with an experimental flutter of feathers that has him levitating slightly - albeit with far more physical effort.]
But yes, let us be about it. You cannot miss him. Long golden braids, blue eyes. The staff, too, should go without saying.
[He points the way forward, where the fog grows thicker.]
There. If you've some means of detecting his presence, then by all means. Elsewise, you may follow my lead.
[Without another word, Emet-Selch launches himself into the air, and oh, it is hardly the most graceful of takeoffs, but his wings take his weight and hold, allowing him to rise skyward through the gloom.]
Now then, if you will cease wasting my time and others', I will relieve you of that rod!
[That's what Emet-Selch thinks, of course. 'Tis clear almost immediately that this canine has other ideas. As they draw nearer, movement darts through the trees, a bright golden glow sparkly and winking in his wake before disappearing once again into the fog.]
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How curious.
[It is magic rendered unto form. A familiar. Finely crafted, too. Familiars, mostly, were par for the course. Initiate's knowledge, requiring but a few threads of the Weave to bring about. Yet probing deeper indicates to him that the familiar is not constructed of Weave. Instead, it is a creature formed of raw magic. Primordial magic, even.
He pauses, glancing to Emet-Selch.]
Perhaps we would have more luck finding its summoner?
[Little did he know, that would not be an option.]
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His creator is no longer here, brief as her time in this place was.
[A flicker and gone. Almost poetic. What purpose, he wonders, was he meant to find in seeing her again, as she once was.]
As for the one who summoned him forth, I highly doubt she will be of much help.
[A flutter of wings, and then he swoops lower, stretching a hand out in front of him so that he might illuminate his way with the magicks that dance at his fingertips.]
That one would much rather frolic about in various animal guises than deliver her end of the bargain outright. If anything, I suspect she must be highly amused by all of the trouble her pet has afforded me.
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As for what he says, rather than the tone...]
Well. If it's a game, I propose we do the logical thing and cheat. The dog seemed to know you were coming, and paid me no mind at all. So, if you point me in a basic direction, I can drive it to you. It will hardly expect to be attacked on both sides.
[A beat, and-]
Presuming you're not actually intending on attacking it.
[What could be said? It would be a shame to dispatch such a fascinating creature.]
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[All complaints aside, the man's suggestion does have merit. Although Argos no doubt has his scent and aether all but seared into his memory, a newcomer might fair somewhat better. If nothing else, they should be able to corral the creature into a corner if they approach from multiple directions.]
[...if only Grani were here, they might limit those directions further. But that is not to be.]
A sound plan. Although with just the two of us, we'll have to be prepared to field multiple directions at once.
[Emet-Selch's eyes narrow once more, his expression stark in the faint glow that surrounds him, and then he gestures beyond them.]
Due northwest and drifting further westward. That direction leads deeper into the swampland - which I'd much prefer to avoid. If you think this part of the forest is dismal, just wait until you're knee-deep in a bog somewhere.
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... And truly. As much as, mist and wraiths considered, he despised that forest, he could not help but think it prudent to refrain from actual damage until he at least had some sort of indication of whose magic shaped it.]
A sound plan? Thank you. Yet I think a more accurate assessment is that it is our only one at this moment.
[He casts his eyes in the direction proffered, his magical wings low beat the only sound to come from him for the moment. The warning about the bog is noted. And yes, the look in his eyes at that moment would suggest that dismality is something that had indeed been explored.]
Can't help but agree. So. I'll move above the swamplands, and drive it back this way. You have adequate magics to slow it while it is distracted?
[Of course he does. He seems powerful enough.]