TEST DRIVE MEME ⚔️️ 16

[avalonmods]

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A ⦿ Soaking in Your Arrival KERPLUNK, SPLASH! Regardless of what you were in the middle of, you and your familiar have been magically pulled into the world of Avalon just above the Bay's chilly waters. After a brief plunge into the Bay, the rush of water filling your ears and soaking up into every creak and crevice of your body, you may need to cough to clear your airways when you rise above the surface. It's paralyzingly cold for a few seconds before you're approached by the Lady of the Lake beneath the water's surface. She puts a vial of a vibrant, glowing red Everwarm* potion to your character's lips.
The icy water doesn't feel so icy once consumed and you'll be able to move your limbs enough to swim to shore on your own. She can't stick around to explain, she's got to get this to all the new arrivals! Many of which you'll see plopping in around you. If you can't swim, a handful of helpful ice turtles will scoop you up from beneath and drop you off at the shore. It's a fast process, though they do take their time as they need to go around hitting the ice that keeps forming on the surface with their shells to keep the surface open for the falling arrivals. If anyone tries to ask the Lady of the Lake for directions, she will direct you to Archimedes at the Rent-a-Ride. If anyone with Animal Magic asks the turtles, they will give the full spiel, but very slowly, and they like to get off topic and gossip about other turtles you've never heard of. The shores themselves are littered with new arrivals complaining their way up a staircase carved into the walls of the White Cliffs. There is no railing, so be careful, but if you do fall, be prepared for a mysterious sand hand to reach out of the side of the cliffs to catch you. The hand will pat you atop the head twice before retreating back into the wall. This is the Cliff Beast; despite the name, he is quite friendly.

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B ⦿ The Caravan to Camelot

Once everyone is wrangled up to the top of the White Cliffs, the handsome owner of the Rent-a-Ride, Archimedes, will distribute smart phones and a pair of ear buds and tell them to "Check the Shit Box." The "Shit Box" refers to wardrobe more formally known as the Wardrobe of Finding, a hammerspace-like wardrobe that opens to each person's items and pets when the person touches the handle. It was recently enchanted by Merlin to prevent people from having to fish their waterlogged possessions and pets out of the water with them. From there, Archimedes directs everyone to settle in groups into modernized carriages pulled by horses and gives them a basic explanation of why and how they've been brought to Avalon: The rest of the universe is frozen in time and your character has been brought here by a familiar that was able to bond with them. They'll have to learn magic to help save their own world from destruction, but first they've got to get them to Camelot. It is here that you have the first opportunity to decide who they will be in their new home. You'll have about an hour to wander around here, meet and greet, and pet the horses before it's time to go.

These carriages use fae technology that combats weight, so your character will be able to get in regardless of whether they're light as a feather or weigh two tons. The carts have air conditioning when it's hot, heating when it's cold, and a mystical shield to protect from bugs. There is also a mini-bar that pops out of the console, with a special feature for warm winter drinks like hot apple toddy and butter beer. Characters can use their smartphones to connect to Camelot's internet service, avalononline (AOL), to chat with other characters, watch dumb videos, learn about the world, contact Camelot Support (they'll answer any questions they can for you, from how to use a smart phone to where to find quests and resources to learn more about your magic). Be careful if you decide to use your phones while in the caravan-- if you don't use those earbuds and start forcing everyone to listen to your nonsense, Archimedes may make you walk.

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C ⦿ The Red Spring

The journey from the White Cliffs to the City of Camelot is a long one, and the first evening you arrive you'll end up spending at the Red Spring, a booming resort town. Newcomers get free inn rooms for their one night stay on the way to Camelot, containing two twin beds, a bathroom, a mini-fridge and microwave, and a TV equipped with a couple of entertaining video games and movies. Don't want to relax in the room? Take a dip in the communal hot spring. The waters have restorative properties that help horses and travelers recover quickly. It is known to relieve stress, improve energy levels, and mildly accelerate healing. It may be a little chilly when you get out though, so make sure you don't slip rushing back indoors when you get out! The springs are also home to a large training grounds just outside town limits, where there are teachers who will teach basic magic safety and help you discover what kind of magic you have together with other new arrivals. Try target practice, obstacle courses, meditation circles, and other ways to try to figure out just what you can do... if you didn't already have an accidental discovery on the ride there.

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Those who listened to the Fae Queen last time have made it clear to her who is going to trust her when they are given the chance willingly and who is going to defy her. Was it a fair system that only measured trust and wasn't swayed by peoples' ability to figure out her riddles? No, certainly not. Fairies don't care, nor have they done much to give the impression that they don't care about the trivialities of human subtleties. But there is a new batch coming in, and before she shares the information she promised, she needs to see where upon her line they lie. I beckon thee to wither's tree, Where widows often cry, A poisoned place of death's embrace North selkie's weary eye. You seek the prick whose corpse makes rot, And rot begot those life forgot, 'Fore the questing beast slips by. The riddle is presented to all in the form of a dream with a magical compelling not to forget the words, nor to ignore them. There do seem to be two main parties forming based on clues within the riddle, resulting in different possible adventures and proof-of-completion items.

A ⦿ The Dragon's Graveyard CW: Undead, facing mortality
	Welcome to the Land of Rot! Home of banshees (crying widows!?), where nothing living can really survive except things like zombies, skeleton warriors, and so on. Get past all that to the northernmost area of the Land of Rot (or, where is the northernmost now after the collapse of the Ash Mountain took out part of it) and you'll find The Dragon's Graveyard. It's not a traditional cemetery, but the land seems to have been landscaped into an open pit mine. It's clearly not active, leaving huge bones and fossils of skeletons sticking out of the walls. There's a lot of dried blood dying the dirt a copper-y color, and it's unclear what happened in this portion of the Land of Rot, but it clearly wasn't pleasant. Draconic Wraiths run freely around the Dragon's Graveyard-- the unsettled beasts created from the mass slaughter of dragons during the age of dragon slaying.
With the world having been rocked by the death of a dragon for the first time in centuries, despite it being within the rules of this world, they are particularly vicious and unwilling to spare any lives. They cannot be touched by physical weapons and can only be fought with magic. However, if they run through your character, they will immediately plunge into a hypothermic state and will need an immediate healer to undo the damage or a siphoner to remove the Wraith's curse and stop the damage from getting worse. Going three days without a healer or siphoner will result in your character dying! What's more, your character will see a vision of their own death in the future upon the moment of contact.   They do seem to be guarding something at the center of the pit: a broken ceremonial sword with dried blood on it. Perhaps this is the "prick" the queen meant? The sword itself seems immensely heavy and impossible to carry on your own, so bring it back as a group effort and decide where it should go. A bit of asking around and someone will be able to identify this as a sword called "Clarent."

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B ⦿ Well, Sssssshit CW: Graverobbing, buried alive adjacent, snakes
The Forest of the Fisher King seems to be another popular interpretation of the riddle. After all, the "prick whose corpse makes rot" could definitely refer to the Fisher King, whose body is rumored to be buried within the forest. I hear that guy's whole story is that his wife stabbed him in the leg with the holy lance because he cheated on her and she didn't want him to be able to die or have kids ever again- definite prick! The low-down on this place is that it's an enchanted forest with plants that release drug-like magic spores that cause euphoria, rapid (15-20 minute) memory loss, a desire to stay and become a part of the forest, and general submissiveness with anything except attempts to get them to leave (which will be met with violent resistance). Why this? Because the forest plants themselves survive by slowly devouring anyone who wanders in by making them want to stay! Oh, and don't forget the Titan Pelicans that can swallow you whole too. Just about anything in the Forest of the Fisher King will try to eat you.
Turns out, if you manage to get past the spores and get your friends free of it to go deep enough in, even the ground itself will try to swallow you up! Quick sand only takes moments to try to pull you under. Better hope you came with a friend to pull you out. The more you resist, the more likely it is to kill you! Though, everything in the forest is dead or thriving off of death anyway, and with a stroke of luck you'll see a snake slither right down in (or maybe you stopped by the Archivist before you wandered in single brain cell first). A deep, painfully-held breath should be able to hold you long enough to sink down to the bottom, which seems to pull you faster down the less you resist it. Faster, and faster, until it spits you out (unfortunately covered in mud) into an underground tomb. The only thing you'll find here is what appears to be an ornate tomb containing the corpse of the Fisher King and pits of poisonous snakes to capture graverobbers... and a strange creature whose head is a serpent, front legs are like a giraffe, spots of a cheetah, hind legs of two different creatures, tail of a lion, spits acid-- well, sssshit. If you're planning on getting this "prick" out of here, you better get past it before it comes at you-- and it comes faster than most people can run. Get to robbing that grave and run!

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For those who are less adventurous, don't worry. There are ways to test their dedication and trust as well. Before the parties leave for their determined destinations, everyone is sent a lock from the fairy queen with a simple note: Slice your sobriquet upon this seal, Secure our sprouting solidarity. Shackle it at the stockade. Sing sayonara to the key.

A ⦿ Trust Trinkets
There's no explanation as to what it will do attached, so it boils down to choosing whether or not to trust the fairy queen. Very, very simple. Well, if you can figure out which stockade it's referring to. As it turns out, in Nicnevin there is a bridge that crosses the shores of its moat that can only be seen by those who have been granted permission by the fairy queen. Etching a name into the lock, be it real or nickname or initials, will automatically transport you to the start of it. It contains myriad locks attached to it, and there are thousands of keys glittering in the water beneath them. The key to the lock is cursed- failure to discard it in the river will result in a curse falling upon your character. Your character broke an agreement with the fairy queen by taking the key with them despite accepting her invitation and instructions by taking the lock to her bridge and now they must pay the price.
Now they will find that they are unable to open or enter any door without getting someone else to give them an invitation through it. This curse will remain until they find a siphoner to remove it... so you definitely may have some immediate struggles in this new world!

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B ⦿ Pretty Pleases
	Don't know a siphoner? Don't you worry, there's a wizard right there in Nicnevin who can help you out! The half-fairy, half-vampire wizard, Speculoo-- master of the dark, dark, evil artes! An escapee from the fae prison, he'll be approaching anyone who seems to have been cursed by the fairy queen to offer them the deal of a lifetime. Speculoo offers them a potion black as tar and tells them to drink up. Drink the potion and Speculoo will explode into a poof of dust and let out a maniacal cackle-- a pixie! Seriously, you thought you could bamboozle the fairy queen just like that? The pixie's potion will cause you to be unable to resist commands from any person as long as they say "please." Time to teach you some manners!
Either live with this curse, or offer your name to the fairy queen to have her remove it. Don't trust her and try to skate past her punishment right under her nose and you'll find yourself with little choice but to.

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• All test drive prompts are open to anyone in the game at any time to create your own logs with, as the events within are considered game canon. • This post should have top-levels by potential new characters only. Current characters may reply to any threads and may start their own logs off-post, but should not top-level comment on this post. • If your application is accepted, you may accept TDM threads as game canon as long as both players consent. Characters may begin threading as soon as their journal is accepted to the communities. •If nothing here tickles your fancy, try one of this month's Quests for your TDM prompt. • The first "Arrival" prompts are usually present on every TDM, but contain seasonal tweaks for flavor. All other prompts will change monthly. • Questions about this TDM's content? Comment here! If you have a question about the game at-large, please head over to the FAQ. • There will be an associated poll to determine where the sword and the Fisher King end up posted on the 7th alongside apps. Once your character is in the game, or if your current character is participating, please vote in it. We will update this bullet with the link once it is live. • If your character has to give their name to the fairy queen, please comment here so we're aware after you are accepted!

Comments

C

[raveyardpatriarch]

Now Wei Wuxian has surely seen the weirdest thing he's going to see today, which for some days would be a real accomplishment. Cultivating spirit peacock, doing a whole training regimen, there's probably a whimsical painting like this, though the reality is in fact a lot more impressive and less whimsical than one might expect, and he finds himself drawn in, watching in fascinated appraisal. The style isn't wholly unfamiliar, is the thing; neither the motions nor the clothes, though both certainly have a real...flair, considering the medium. And somehow he never brought the notion of birds into the Great Cultivation Debate whatsoever, which suddenly looks like maybe an oversight? If a snake wore robes, would it wear them like--

The segue into some kind of balance meditation deserves points for novelty, at least. Maybe novel to the peacock, too, based on how it's going. Despite the total lack of necessity for this, both in terms of proximity and propriety, Wei Wuxian pitches his voice to carry and offers encouragement. "Hey, you definitely almost have that down!"

[yearofthepeacock]

The encouragement is not appreciated. The encouragement, in fact, is so unexpected and jarring that it scatters all his willful concentration and shattered ambitions in equal measure, any chance at balance, inner or outer, going up in smoke. He grimaces like those words are absolutely disgusting to him.

Yet he stubbornly remains on the pole, lowering his other foot to grasp onto it and spreading his wings a little to stay upright. Not half as effortless and graceful as he means to be but he absolutely refuses to end the form on anything but his own terms in front of a heckling stranger. Who does he think he is, anyway?

"And you're some sort of expert, are you?"

Shen regrets asking almost immediately. It would be just his luck that some random tall monkey in another world also knows how to achieve peace.

[raveyardpatriarch]

Still so weird. The bird is talking! He's already known this was a thing, but still! Talking, sarcastically, how hilarious. It's hard to keep the incredulous amusement politely off his face where it belongs. Is he up there to feel tall? Shouldn't birds be good at standing very still on things already? Well, he seemed to be doing alright.

"On some things! Not spears, or standing on them. And not lightness skill, anymore. I bet I could still do it with a boost up though. Not from you, someone with solid bones, obviously." See, he gets it, says the little nod he finishes that train of thought with. Maybe his first talking bird, but he's very good at extrapolation, one of the best. "Do I need to be an expert to be on the training ground? Seems counterintuitive."

[yearofthepeacock]

Well now he regrets asking for a whole different reason. Does this monkey ever stop talking? It's like listening to that damn panda's ramblings all over again. Rubbish! And what does he know about his bones! Who talks about someone else's bones like that, except to imply that he likes to gnaw on them or something? Maybe this is hell and he was right from the start.

Before all this nonsense can fully derail his training, Shen finally cartwheels off the pole, landing gracefully on the ground and grabbing the falling weapon to spin it around his wing a few times for good measure, before finishing the move with a decisive slice through the air in front of the stranger. Try gnawing on his bones and choke on them.

Panting a little from both exercise and agitation, he cannot help but correct the idiot. "You need to be an expert to tell me I 'have that down'!" Obviously that's what he meant! Disregard how ridiculous those words sound coming out of his beak.

[raveyardpatriarch]

Hey, new record for someone declaring Wei Wuxian's company to be a kind of hell, probably. He follows the peacock's moves with brightly curious eyes, but remains otherwise unmoved. This is training, not a threat, waving weapons at people is why they're all here, and he's being a good spotter, and only incidentally knows what kind of bones birds have. He only mentioned it to show he's cool and gets it, there's talking birds here, he's down with it. He's being at least 85 percent helpful and well-meaning.

That does unfortunately leave some room for insouciance, though. "Almost have that down," he corrects, grinning innocently. "Unless the wobbling is part of the form, like grass in the wind. Which it might be! I'm not an expert."

[yearofthepeacock]

"You--!" Ugh! He's doing this on purpose, isn't he, winding him up! Well Shen isn't going to keep playing this game. It's about time he tested his skills against one of these wretched creatures, anyway. Yes, yes, and wipe that grin off his face while he's at it. His vexation refines itself into something more assured and bloodthirsty, something much easier to control and his grip on his weapon tightens minutely.

The sudden flaring of his tail feathers to their full seven feet of height is the only warning the idiot gets. Whether or not he's distracted by the wall of white and dancing red spots, Shen lunges forward with his lance, at the last second turning the attack into a feint and darting to the side, swiping at his target's knees.

[raveyardpatriarch]

Little does the bird know, every time someone says 'You!' or 'Wei Wuxian!' in that tone of voice, his lifespan gains ten years and he learns entirely the wrong lesson. The warning tail display, at least, is less traditional, and he barely has time to pout over the lack of a gracious tap-in before he has to wheel into a dodge, hurriedly drawing Suibian. Sparring impropriety! Not even an introduction or a bow! But he probably deserves it.

Hollow boned or not, Wei Wuxian puts real strength in his swing, attempting to sweep the trickily long-ranged polearm aside so he can pivot into an attack. It's always seemed like a shame most cultivators restrict themselves in their choice of weaponry, if not even a little silly, ghosts aside. So tricky or not, the novelty fills him with joy, even if the effort required to get even close to his former speed and power brings a perennial twinge.

"That's very distracting in a fight!" He says this like a compliment, though it is, of course, a slightly underhanded tactic for a casual spar. But then, so is what he's doing, when he already knows his opponent has a short fuse and reactive nature. "I have to settle for just talking. Not as good!"

[yearofthepeacock]

This monkey is lighter on his feet than he'd thought, a level of skill behind his quick evasion and instant retaliation Shen is forced to acknowledge. Their blades meet with a satisfying clash of metal against metal, but instead of resisting the swing and entering a direct contest of strength he knows he would lose, Shen moves with it, converting the strike into a full spin around his own center. This lands his opponent a face full of tail, the long stiff feathers drawn together tightly enough to pelt him like a whip, yet individually flexible enough to simply part around his sword.

Directly behind the feathery assault, Shen's blade comes back around and attempts to strike at the back of his opponent's sword arm. If this is parried too, he'll disengage for a moment, leaping back a few paces on powerful legs, crouched low and inviting an attack. After his initial surprise, he finds himself not all that put out at the fact he wasn't immediately able to teach the monkey a lesson, a little excited himself to be faced with some real skill and speed. Otherwise it wouldn't be much of a test, after all. Subjugating him will be all the more satisfying for it.

He only snorts at the chatter, but the narrowing of his eyes belies no shortage of violent intent. "Recognizing your shortcomings is the first step to bettering yourself!"

[raveyardpatriarch]

Apparently his nattering had been mistaken as an invitation for further demonstration. How novel! And, as he accurately pointed out, distracting; his parry is downright slovenly, sputtering after a feathery assault, shedding the last of his complacency for this match. Not his fault he mostly fights opponents who are skilled but traditional, or less familiar but also less competent, if he's being cocky. This is healthy, as long as he doesn't actually get stabbed, which would put a damper on his day for sure. Maybe he should have been seeking out cultivated birds to fight in his first life, instead of all the unorthodox cultivation.

"I don't think I can better myself into having a tail!" he replies, full of glee, gathering himself for a lunge. He makes it temptingly unguarded and high-- if he can tempt the bird forward out of his crouch and cost him the advantage of superior range, he can maybe take a wing, or a slice at his side if he really presses. "Doesn't seem like you got any limbs from the deal, which I find professionally disappointing."