dankmemes | TEST DRIVE MEME #4

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TEST DRIVE MEME #4

Welcome to Hadriel's test drive, and thank you again for your interest in the game! As always, our reserves page is here, and our applications page is here! Reserves open December 25th, and apps are open January 1st.

Two quick points here as well:
1. Any thread made in Hadriel's test drive will be accepted as the sole Action Log sample in the application.
2. All threads made in the test drive can be considered game canon, either through handwaving or through a shared mental experience while coming through the Door!

Test drives will be broken up into specific god mini-events, during which your characters can see how well they fare under the watchful eye of one of the gods. Choose wisely or just simply pick 'em all, and have fun!

F E A R

SCENARIO ONE: A FACE FIT FOR A MEME
[The Door brings in all that is chaotic and evil in the world. This may include you, may include the person next to you... and may include the monster behind you.

Watch out as you explore the streets of Hadriel, because you're not alone, and there's always something on the rooftops watching and waiting for the perfect opportunity to separate you from your group and tear you into pieces. This time, the Door has brought in trolls, from the Dungeons and Dragons tabletop roleplay series for you meet.

These trolls have a height of nine feet and weigh up to five hundred pounds. They may be slower and less intelligent than you, but their regenerative abilities make them difficult to kill. Trolls are capable of healing nonfatal damage dealt to them and can use simple tools, like swords and knives- all the better to incapacitate you so they can roast you alive!]

SCENARIO TWO: RED SNOW
[It's cold. A layer of snow envelops the city, turning the caves into a winter wonderland. Feel free to have snowball fights, scrounge for blankets and coats (there's never enough to go around), and make snow angels! It's just like back home during the holidays, isn't it?

That is, if your home had yeti and white walkers roaming around trying to kill you. Be careful when wandering out and about, because they seem to blend in with the snow, and they definitely want a snack.

Or, uh, to raise you from the dead to murder your friends at their behest. Either way, you're dead.

This is a mini version of our Red Snow event this month!]

H O P E

SCENARIO THREE: HOPE FOR THE HOLIDAYS
[You're sitting on a couch in a living room. All around you are hints of magic- the mirrors seem to flicker with moving objects and people, the fireplace crackles with light, but no heat. There's a Christmas tree in the corner with soft, glowing lights that are unattached to any sort of wires.

Underneath the tree are four presents- two of them clearly marked for you, two of them clearly marked for the other person in the room with you. Inside one of these gifts is something you badly want- a stack of cash, a magical bow, an out-of-print book- but inside the other is something a little less pleasant. There may be spiders or snakes, or the box may be empty but coated in acid. It could be a wolf in sheep's clothing- wonderful-looking fruits, rotted on the inside- or it could just be a particularly nasty smell.

You can only open one, and there's no way to know which is which. Which gift will you choose?]

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You do not know me.

[Koltira lifts his sword; it's bright enough to serve as a torch. The cave is not deep, and there are remnants of a fire only a little ways in, as well as other evidence of semi-recent occupation. Bones. Tattered rags. Broken weapons. Hmm. Koltira sits down.]

We cannot progress towards the city until the snowstorm settles.

[ He thinks that might have cut at him not so long ago, hearing that in Koltira's voice so definitively. But it wasn't far back he'd just barely talked Koltira back into calling him a friend; he's used to a few cold shoulders. He's certainly earned them.

So he nudges at that expired fire the tip of his shoe, wondering if there's anything left in it to burn. He weighs a few different replies, goes back and forth on a few of them, and ultimately decides to give the point to Koltira uncontested. He keeps his eyes turned down, away from that glowing blade and its owner. ]

Got any flint on you? Matches, maybe a lighter?

[Although Koltira has no need of heat, he likes it all the same--and fires out in the wilderness keep unsuspecting animals at bay. Though, in Koltira's case, such a ward is not for his protection. He fishes in the pouches at his belt for a moment, finds flint, and hands it over.]

Try that.

[Another moment, and he unclasps his heavy, fur-lined cloak.]

And put this on.

[ He's grateful enough for the flint, the cloak as well is a blessing. He takes it with a smile and a grateful nod, quick to brush off any lingering snow on himself and pull it on. ]

Thank you.

[ He wouldn't accept it from most people, but it strikes him as silly to be concerned about Koltira being cold. He crouches, getting to work rearranging the remains of the fire. With a whisper of ruwach a heatless, blue flame springs up to circle him, providing a little more light to work with.

In a moment: ] I could tell you about myself, if you want to hear it. I know a considerable amount about a Koltira, so it would only be fair.

[Hmm. Runic magic. Strange tools for a priest. Koltira glances from the pseudo-flame to Ashraf, then leans back, resting against the rough, damp cave wall. His eyes turn upwards, towards the thin, numerous rows of toothy stalactites lining the ceiling. Freezing water drips onto the floor intermittently, a soft plinking sound that echoes in the otherwise quiet space.]

Go on. It will pass the time, in any case.

[ Sum yourself up for someone you're very familiar with, who has never met you before. It's a daunting task. How have so many people managed it for him before? He spends a second or two rubbing his chin thoughtfully, then a few more working with the flint, still thinking.

Finally: ] I'm a high priest, as I said. I'm from Rune Midgard, which by all accounts is a world that sounds a lot like Azeroth. I've lived two lifetimes -- one as a priest until I was 55, when I gave my life to the Valkyries to be born again. I was married the first time, to a crusader, but she died shortly before I was reborn. [ He glances over with a small smile. ] And I hated the undead, in my first life, until I met a death knight that changed my mind about that.

[Koltira keeps his tone as neutral as ever, mostly because he still doesn't know what to make of this man. What reason would he have to lie, or fabricate an entire history between the two of them? Was it a case of mistaken identity? Or was his mind simply addled?]

Is that so?

[ Would his Koltira say anything more? It seems doubtful. Ashraf's smile is now mostly to himself as he looks back down to the flint, and in a few moments he's got enough of a spark to light a tiny fire. It's not much, and sort of a sad sight, but it's warmth.

But there is one part of him that stays a little offended that Koltira doesn't believe him, or doesn't care, despite his best efforts to push it away. It's that part that makes him ask, as he tosses the flint back: ]

Thassarian isn't here, is he? I haven't seen him in Exsilium for a while.

[Koltira straightens up. He stares directly at Ashraf now, his eyes hardening.]

Are you claiming to know Thassarian, as well?

[ Well, there's a reaction. He feels a little selfishly glad to have gotten it. His gaze is steady on Koltira, and the small smile keeps its place. ]

I am. I considered you both friends, although I knew you longer.

[Koltira hasn't seen Thassarian since that wretched last day in Andorhal. He found it unlikely that he'd ever see his old friend again, imprisoned as he was. For this stranger to come and speak as though they were all together in some other place, that they were all friends? It rankles him. It's a fantasy. And if it's not a fantasy, then it's something denied to him. The prospects rankle him either way.

He scowls, showing teeth.]

You keep repeating this. What makes you think you knew me so well?

[He leans forward, his eyes narrow, his body suddenly tense.]

What are you playing at?

[ He doesn't react in the slightest to that tension of that lean; he knows Koltira well enough to know he's not in danger. So with a slow breath out he turns his eyes back to his tiny fire, fingers spread through its light to gather what warmth he can. ]

I'm not playing at anything. I don't even know where I am, or why you don't remember the same things I do. I suppose I just wanted to prove I know what I say I do.

[Frost plays over Koltira's fingers, shimmering and translucent. He feels like Ashraf's playing a game with him, and he's losing patience.]

Tell me something to prove it, then. Something that matters.

[Something besides invoking his only friend.]

[ He takes his time with the question, running over a few options in his mind. There are a lot of answers he could give. A lot of things were Exsilium-specific, would probably mean nothing to this Koltira. But then he digs further, into even hazier memories. In his first life, hadn't there been some sort of time-hiccup? He'd seen Koltira alive, before he was so taciturn and reticent...

He keeps his eyes on the slender flames. ]

I could tell you your brother's name.

[ The offer seems kinder than just coming out with the name itself, uninvited. ]

[Koltira doesn't answer right away. He's fighting a sudden, violent impulse to strangle Ashraf's slender neck. His eyes flutter shut, and he speaks through gritted teeth.]

Say it.

[ It had taken him a few seconds to be sure he could remember the name at all. It was a lifetime ago within a confusing whirl of mixed timelines. But he'd had it eventually, and this time he doesn't need to take any time to consider before he's able to answer Koltira's demand.

Smoothly, in the same gentle tone he's used for everything else so far: ]

Faltora.

[There's no way for Ashraf to have that information. To know of death knights was one thing; to know of Koltira and Thassarian in name only, perhaps another, but ...]

... And what was I to you, that I would tell you something like this?

I told you already.

[ He doesn't expect to be welcomed back with open arms, of course; he's satisfied enough having made Koltira reassess his immediate judgment of Ashraf. So long as he's not whisked away again to some other timeline or world... there's time for the rest. He pulls the cloak tighter around himself. ]

[He shakes his head. His mind is a little more open, but he's still incredulous.]

You said that we were friends. I am not one for friendship, particularly not with the living.

[ Ashraf finally laughs, albeit quietly. ]

And I'm a priest -- we're not exactly hand and glove, I'll admit. It wasn't a friendship that formed overnight, either.

You said I changed your mind about the undead.

[Another disbelieving head-shake.]

I find that difficult to picture.

[Given his propensity for trying to kill everyone around him on the regular.]

[ He tips his head, trying to remember. Never easy, although this memory isn't quite as fuzzy as the name he'd just had to dig up. ]

It was a while ago... [ He scratches the stubble of his chin with a frown. ] But from what I remember, I tried to kill you... maybe more than once. Then I kept accusing you of being up to no good. I'm still impressed you put up with it.

Edited 2015-12-28 20:57 (UTC)

[Actually, this is the most believable part of his story so far. He makes an irritated, but resigned, noise in his throat.]

Such treatment is par for the course.

[ He huffs another quick laugh, shorter and quicker. ]

Right, you've seen a lot of that. That patience is part of what changed my mind.

Only part?

[Koltira's easing into the idea that perhaps Ashraf might be telling the truth. Time magic is not out of the question on Azeroth--though it is dangerous, and typically forbidden. But that other versions of him might exist ... it's not beyond the realm of possibility.]

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healplz - 2016-01-11 04:25 (UTC) - Expand

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