farsickooc | Test Drive Meme #1

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*test drive meme

Test Drive Meme #1

Welcome to Fernweh's Test Drive Meme! Do you have an interest in joining the game? Need to make sure the setting works for you and your character first? Or have you made the decision to join the game and need fresh samples for your application? Whatever the reason, feel free to use the scenarios however you wish.

You know what to do! If you don’t, just follow the instructions.

How To Play:

→ Comment with the character you would like to test drive (duplicates are allowed)
→ Choose a scenario or start your own
→ Tag around
→ Have fun!

SCENARIOS

01. Arrival

You have been sitting and staring at the sign above you for some time now, lost in a blur of swirling questions that seems to start with how you ended up there; in a place (and time, maybe) that you know you weren't an hour earlier. Or maybe you're an old hand at this by now and you've figured out that this is simply another stop that the multiverse bus has made. So why not get off and look around a little?

At any rate, the sign points you towards the direction of a place called "Gazin", which looks like a decent-sized town from where you stand. There has to be someone who can explain.

02. Around Town

So, you've settled in. Well, mostly. At least you know where things are without taking too many wrong turns and ending up in the less desirable areas of town. But now you can go about your day. Visit the market, check out the local shops or have a drink with a new friend at one of several inns.

03. Exploring

You've heard people talk about some pretty interesting places and now you're itching to get out and find them. Be careful though, there are creatures and monsters out there that will be pretty interested in meeting you and may wish to have you for its next meal. Better take someone along. And maybe some weapons, too. Make sure one is made of silver.

04. Monsters

So, you managed to find that location you were looking for. Good for you! Only.. it seems you've also found one of the native creatures to the area and you now face to face with it. Um. Good luck! We'll see you when you get back!

Hopefully.

05. Celebration

It won't take long for you to figure out that people of Gazin are, all in all, pretty happy people. It shows, too, when a seemingly quiet evening suddenly bursts into a random, impromptu party to celebrate whatever good fortune has touched a person. Name Days, good harvests, betrothals, weddings, or just life in general.

Sing, dance, drink and be happy, too!

06. Wild Card!

Want something else? Feel free to choose your own adventure or mix and match to create something completely different!

NAVIGATION

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AROUND TOWN

[Is a disheveled wizard sitting in the middle of the inn's tavern with back against the wall and legs stretched across the ground in anyone's way? He's not sorry about that, mostly because John is too groggy to know where he is at the moment, but he'd feel the same if he were sober also.

Should anyone attempt to walk past him or around him John will make himself into even more of a roadblock, hunching further down to create a larger and more lopsided sprawl.]

You there. Get me a pint, will ya?

[Between a slur, heavy lidded eyes, and inability to sit upright that might not be a good idea.]

CELEBRATION

[Parties were fun! A time for revelry and poor decision making. While John certainly enjoyed himself upon arriving, there seemed to be far too little of the aforementioned poor decision making. Not even gambling.

What was a party if no one was taking larger than wise risks and seeing if they pay off? Or in John's case, cheating to ensure that they paid off.

Everything is too happy, too apparent, too safe and John wants none of it. He's been away from home for only a short while and already he misses the adrenaline. That's why he's going to make his own game. Step right up, step right up to the less-than-amazing John Constantine Casino. It's dirty and there are no monetary prizes, but at the very least there are no guarantees and a high likelihood of inappropriate jokes.

And so John strides through the celebration looking for challenges, sometimes outright picking a fight starting with bumping into a person, sometimes a casual question of if they want to try their luck at rock paper scissors (if they seem like they might know what that is), or even asking if he can guess facts about a person and they can tell him if he's wrong or right. Which approach is your character unlucky enough to encounter?]

WILDCARD

[I'm up for other scenarios if you've got 'em in mind. PM me for questions! :D]

Wessex was nothing like Gazin, nor were the people and before too long, Ragnar was overwhelmed on a level that he had never felt before. None of it seemed to match up with anything he had been told through stories or other Northmen experiences. And yet, he spoke like them.

When all became too much, he stole a horse that was tied up outside one of the many Great Halls and ran it as fast as he could until he was free of the city's borders. From there, he followed a river and then cut south for several hours before coming to the edge of a forest.

At first, he wasn't sure if going in was wise, but for as far as the eye could see, there was nothing but trees. Ragnar had to decide to go back or continue. So, the Viking slowly moved on, keeping vigilant for anything that could be considered a threat.

By the time Ragnar reaches the same street as the other man, he's overwhelmed by the sheer size and difference in the culture of what he's used to. Kattegat was still growing, though the Northman had hopes of seeing it triple in size before he left it for the last time. Yet, there was still an interest in exploring it as any true Viking would.

His attention is pulled almost all the way to his left, hearing shouts of protest from one voice while others were laughing and cursing. Ragnar watches until it's clear the man being grabbed needed help. Why he decided to help was unknown, but before anyone could really hurt the petite man with the deep voice, a new face emerged out of nowhere.

"Yes, unhand him. And why not try stealing from me instead?" Ragnar stood there, looking at each man evenly with a snide smile.

[OOC: I am SO SORRY. So uh... due to things that happened in a previous game that I’m taking her from (she’s CRAU from Fasti and City of Sin)... her relationship with Percy has been heavily damaged. It’s totally fixable! And I want to because de Rolo sibling shenanigans are my favourite things in the world. But uh... it’s going to take some work because she kind of doesn’t trust him at ALL and believes that he doesn’t love her/consider her his sister anymore.]

Cassandra goes very, very still at the sound of her brother’s voice. She hasn’t heard it since... Rome. Since he’d somehow found a way to abandon her yet again without going anywhere at all. Since she’d come to the realisation, through his actions, of how little she mattered to him. (Before Rome had been the Chroma Conclave, of course, but that seemed a lifetime ago. A war against the Titans ago. Two worlds ago.)

And now he’s here. Again. Her stomach twists and her heart aches for the brother she had known. She misses him. Despite everything, despite his having made it perfectly clear in Rome how he feels about her, what he thinks of her (he thinks nothing at all of her, she merits nothing from him, no love, no concern. Nothing), she still... misses him. More the fool her, she supposes.

She’s cool and composed when she finally turns to face him. When she finally sees him again, sees him for the first time since his arrival so long ago in Rome. (Pelor, she misses Daud. How she wishes he were here with her.) “I don’t know,” she says quietly. “I think poppies are prettier.” Part of that is because they’re the symbol of Ceres. And despite her... complicated feelings regarding gods and goddesses as a whole, Ceres wasn’t a bad one. (She’d given her an escape from Whitestone. Sent her to a place that had come to feel like home. Helped her find her way. Led her to making friends. Of her own, not just her brother’s.)

A slight smile crosses her lips, because she is proud of her abilities, and under her touch a poppy blossoms from a small green sprout to a hale, hardy flower in only moments. She brushes her fingertips against the petals before looking up at him again. She's going to have to get used to this. Seeing him. Occasionally. For however long the both of them find themselves here. Although there's always the possibility of adventuring. Exploring this new world she's calling home for the time being. And she would do that anyway, not simply to avoid Percy.

"How long have you been here?"

Cassandra hadn’t expected to find a familiar face, here. Let alone theirs. The likelihood had seemed too small to be possible. Not after having someone show up in both Rome and the City. Although she rather wishes her brother hadn’t shown up in Rome. (He’d never acknowledged her presence after his arrival, so she supposes in the end it hadn’t been much of a change from before he’d arrived.)

“It’s good to see you," she responds with a smile.

Edited 2020-01-05 05:21 (UTC)

The dragon gently smiles at her and they shimmer, shifting in a twisting of light and warmth that washes out toward Cassandra. And when it clears, walking toward her, is J'mon Sa Ord, with one hand out to her. Their other hand held up a small cup of Kafe' with a strange circular symbol on one side. Don't ask where it came from. A dragon never tells their secrets.

"It is odd being in a new land after so long living in one place, but I do not mind it, even if I do not trust it." Then they turned their eyes on her more closely.

"Are you well? It has been some time since we last met, I think." Time sometimes slipped away from the ancient dragon.

"True that. they remind me of a place I visited once called Darktow. Big partiers, they." Or Humperduke or that matter. A much better place.

"I was lucky it was one me when I came through."

He grinned at her. "I'm Fjord. Nice to meet you, Isa."

He nodded again. "I am. Right off of the evening tide."

Despite all she’s seen, gods and Titans and everything in between, that is still an amazing sight, the shift between forms. Cassandra laughs softly and takes their hand.

“Nor do I. Mind it. I find this world we’ve found ourselves in terribly interesting.” And she’s looking forward to exploring it. That had been the one thing that had... chafed about Rome. Being so... contained. (It had been far too reminiscent of Whitestone on that front for her taste. Everything else there had helped to make up for that, but still.) Here there is... a freedom that she’s almost forgotten.

“Well enough.” She’s still hurting, still feeling the loss of her friends... but she is healing. “Longer than you think, I suspect. And certainly more worlds ago, on my part.”

[ Suddenly vines sprout out of the ground and branches from several trees reach out and wind around the harpy. The creature shrieks as it’s pulled to the ground, held there. Right within easy punching reach.

Almost simultaneously an arrow comes streaking out of the nearby trees towards the harpy, a young woman dressed in armour, her dark, white-streaked hair pulled back in a braid crowning her head. Cassandra spares a glance towards Beau. She recognizes a monk when she sees one. It’s a very distinctive fighting style.]

Go! Now!

[More vines wrap around the harpy as the creature struggles to free itself, some of the first vines breaking.]

Squeezing her hand, they let it drop a moment later and nods, smiling gently.

"It is! I have been to many worlds, and his one seems nicer than many. No collars, no bracelets, and no, so far, gods breathing over my shoulder." J'mon's body shudders. They had been a traveler across many worlds as a young dragon. Long before Ank’Harel. Their inherent magic had allowed them to travel across worlds.

Some of those travels had not gone well.

"Truly? Then perhaps we can walk and talk of it? I find I enjoy talking with friends more than the pursuits this immediate place offers."

"Yeah, well, you fit in better here than I do." And that? That was just fact. She looked as out of place here as a bull in a china shop, and could probably do just as much damage. She sipped her drink, hearing the tone that almost reminded her of home. Ah, fuck'off-ism. A true state of New York. "Glad I missed the singing part. You sound like you gargle with rocks."

[When in a strange and new setting Dorian didn't typically go all-in for getting sloppy drunk, especially now that it seemed fate wished to drop him off in another world. His own and so he didn't feel entirely ill at ease, but he knew this wasn't Thedas either and a part of him misses the modern conveniences of the previous world he was in...among other things.

After wandering the streets of Gazin, which looked like the typical city he was used to, something a bit more southern, a bit more rustic (and in some places it smelled like it too) he popped into the nearest tavern for a reprieve. Maybe a drink, but his path to the bar was barred by a pair of legs that seemed to intentionally sprawl out in front of him as he was passing.

Adjusting his hood and staff, the mage made a derisive noise in the back of his throat, ready to just step over the legs in question until the vagrant in question had the gall to ask him for a pint...it sounded more like an order.]

Excuse me? I hardly think you're-

[But he stopped just short of telling the disheveled man off when he slowly came into focus, John was never quite to the nines, except for the first time Dorian had dressed him for a ball...and the man was as unshaven and sloppy drunk as he'd ever seen him...

...but it was still John.

Crouching down carefully Dorian curled both of his arms under the other man's and levered him onto his feet before wrapping both arms around him securely. and in a low voice barely above a whisper, but it sounded pleased nonetheless he said:]

I've missed you too, Amatus.

"Emma?" The voice was soft, as he stepped for the trees, and smiled. Merlin strode toward her with his robe trailing sparks that lit the area, but caught nothing on fire.

"Welcome to the weird once more." His grin was lopsided, and he nodded to her, very happy to see her.

Herbert's fancy clothes stood out, a little too flashy, a little to different, and so many pockets. If the main guy didn't have Herbert half off his feet by one arm he might have gone for the syrings he expected to still be in his pocket and go for the eyes. His syrings probably weren't there. As Ragnar approched another was trying to take anything of value from him, a silver case pulled from the inside pocket of the jacket as Ragnar spoke up. The man holding Herbert like a unruly child smirked Ragnar's way. "Think you can challenge me?" Poor man.

The one with the Case now got a sign of how much fight the little man had in him, as one of his shiny dress shoes came up right between the jerk's legs. "That is mine!" The voice seemed almost softer even with the rage pumping through him. His blue eyes showed the anger as the bandit doubled and another stepped forward, all together three men, and one pair of glasses on the ground that could mess him up real good if they got stepped on.

The man holding him up shoved Herbert towards the other man he was working with as he stepped up towards Ragnar. "Come on then." The one who caught Herbert got to deal with his thrashing, and him stomping his heel down on his foot over and over. He wasn't a fighter, but he refused to be a victim.

01
It had been almost a year since that bald bastard had died in his arms, uttering the words that broke his spirit, his will and probably his mind. Master Ketil had been good to him, better than a man who raised his blades on a king should be... but he doubted that the man was even told anything when he bought him, and the young man was just as ready to forget his past as he could.

He had been hauling another log to the river when he felt suddenly faint. Taking a breath and blinking, suddenly he found himself before a sign, feeling just as sick. "...The fuck?" He muttered. Speaking in Norse, not yet having run into Bhalris yet.

02
After being enchanted, and hearing all the people around him speaking in tones he could understand, the dirty, long haired blond started to wander around the town, looking to see what their was. Never in his life had he really been free to wander. As a kid maybe, but the band was always near by, his village before that, and he was nor permitted to leave the farm since he was bought with a stack of gold. From Jarl to Karl, it was more than fair for his crime but what he wanted, Canute would not grant him.

Instead he decided to try not to focus on his misery, instead he would focus on exploring the large city, it was strange to see, nothing like Jelling but more like Jorvik. He found himself spacing out near a tavern his mind still running from everything he had been told. What in the world was all of this?

Edited 2020-01-05 17:15 (UTC)

Lagertha was on edge. Being transported by an unknown power didn't exactly instill a sense of peace, nor did the fog in her head that felt like it was still lingering over her mind despite her having come to her senses enough to make her way into the strange town. The buildings, the people, the weapons and tools they had - Lagertha had seen what progress looked like and this place was teeming with it.

The smiths, the markets filled with some familiar things, some drastically unfamiliar things and Lagertha wandered with wary eyes, hand on her sword as she unknowingly made her way towards the tavern. She stopped a few feet away from Thorfinn, listening to the sounds of drinking and conversation beyond. It would be a good place to listen to loose tongues.

The dirty blond boy caught her eye and she looked him up and down. He dressed.. well, in a way she was familiar with. He looked as lost as she felt and perhaps it was that that had her speaking up to him.

"Have you come from in there?" she asked carefully. If the look on his face was from being drunk, then she'd have to be careful. Drink less or none at all, if it were that powerful.

Thorfinn had still been spacing when she had come closer. It was once he felt the eyes and then heard her words that he turned, the deep hurt brown eyes peering from behind the messy hair, dressed simple, like the basic jarl. Slaves rarely given more than enough to make them decent, his longer hair spoke of a little more freedom than most. His hair was supposed to be kept short as a sign of status but, Thorfinn was still pig headed and Ketil let the boy be.

Looking the woman over two things fired off in his clouded mind. She looked like a warrior and was armed, was she a shield maiden? and two Shield Maidens had been banned ages ago. Finally he realized he was staring and felt he better speak up before someone said something. " No... I have just ended up here. I am rather lost." He admitted, giving a slight apologetic look, he spoke with the accent of a Dane, but aged with the time between generations. "I just appeared here like the magic of the gods spirited me away."

It was clear he was not well. Lagertha couldn't be sure why, if it was a physical thing or a mental thing, but the young man sent up several of her flags. She stepped a foot closer and kept one hand firmly on her sword's end as he finally spoke up.

"As did I." She spoke with the accent of old, that somehow curled all parts of her words. "The gods must have brought us here for a reason." He spoke of gods and she naturally assumed he was talking about the same ones she would be. Maybe she only needed to figure out why the gods had brought her here. Maybe they would send her back home when she was done.

"Are you injured?" Lagertha still wasn't sure about that part of things. He didn't seem clear eyed.

A sorceress is used to commanding a certain level of power. Control over the world around them can be something of an obsession maybe, as if every solution is simply a spell away. Therefore, when one sorceress finds herself at the mercy of some mysterious force—something which has chosen to portal her right next to this fucking sign, well.

She's not happy. That's never good.

"Who the fuck thought this would be humorous?!" That angry voice echoes across the land around her, an ominous portent of violence and death. She'll find whoever did this, and peel out their insides!

But first, the humiliating practice of picking herself up, dusting off her black dress, and finding a way to the nearest city. Whatever local peasant happens to cross her path in the meantime will probably be out of luck. In all of this immediate fury, of course, she fails to see Geralt, already some paces ahead.

Edited 2020-01-05 22:04 (UTC)

[Arrival]

This wasn't exactly what Jon had meant when he wished that he could be somewhere else -- he hadn't enjoyed being in the middle of a battle against a seemingly endless army of the dead, but he knew that he had to be. All of Westeros was depending on the outcome.

It had been a throwaway thought in the face of impossible odds, and then here he was, staring at a sign labeled "Gazin." He has never heard of such a place, but then, he's never been outside of Westeros. There must be a lot of places he's never heard of.

What a sight he must make -- sword drawn, his face and armor covered in dirt and sweat and even some blood. His immediate vicinity is deserted. There's no one to give him any answers, or any other indication of where he is or how he got here. There's only one thing for it. He sheathes his sword and heads in the direction indicated by the sign, in search of someone who can provide some answers. Or a stream to wash off the grime. He's not picky.

[Around town]

He's been here long enough to have discovered that in many ways, this place is similar to Westeros. Similar enough that it hadn't taken him long to get used to the place, anyway. He has also discovered that living as far North as he did in Westeros, he had missed out on things, like markets and taverns. Even the life he would have had without Robert Baratheon's meddling wouldn't have been of those sorts of things -- it would have been sheltered for different reasons. But here, freed from all of that, he can live the life he truly wants to live. Whatever that life is.

Right now he's enjoying that freedom and lack of responsibility by wandering through the town, going wherever his feet take him, before ending up in the tavern at the end of the day with a pint of mead. He's not relaxed enough however to go around unarmed; he's got a sword at his hip and a knife tucked into his belt.

[Wildcard]

Choose your own adventure!

There was a childish glee about her as she bounded into the forest, running swiftly with only a rustle of wind in her wake as she swung herself under and over and up branches until Isa realized that she'd somehow gotten herself well and truly lost. With a soft swear in Evlan, Isa looked into the canopy. It was too thin to support weight and not suitable for a bird's eye view.

Another swear and the small woman was slinging herself back down the branches, stopping short on the lowest one that was still some 15 feet in the air, her scant weight making only noise as she lands with a breath. She knew she should have come down more softly, but as long as the odd looking man passing underneath her hadn't heard, she'd be fine.

It was foolish to not announce herself. She should have. It would have been polite.

Instead, Isa moved around the far side of the tree and scrambled down, moving through the underbrush and stalked him for a good thirty feet before she decided to step out onto the road behind him, hands folded behind her back as she timed her footfalls with that of his horse.

She knew she should take this more seriously. Isa fully blamed the woods around them.

01. Arrival

She was used to oddities in her life but she'd never experienced anything like this. She'd been in Whitestone a second before but now she was standing in front of an entirely unfamiliar town. It looked to be well built and prosperous by the shape and state of the buildings. Was it a small town? Were there no dragons here? Was she on another plan? How did she get here?

Standing and staring at the sign wasn't going to help her.

Pike turned towards the town and looked around for anything that breathed of familiarity.

She was of short stature, standing under three feet tall with pointed gnome ears. Her small body was clad in armor and when she walked she clanked loudly through the city streets. Pike was rarely subtle.

As she stepped forward she whispered beneath her breath. "Sarenrae guide me."

04. Monsters

"If you need aid I can go with you." She was small and heavily armored but Pike had spirit and unseen strength that could aid any of those who were going into the surrounding area to explore.

It always paid to have a cleric on hand.

05. Celebration

Pike enjoyed celebrating and like many of Vox Machina, she took the chance to relax whenever it arose. Moments like these were rare and should be enjoyed to their fullest.

She had a drink in her hand and instantly missed Grog. "I'm a monstah." She spoke to herself and took a healthy swig of her drink. Grog wouldn't want her to be sit around missing her friends, he'd want her to have fun and enjoy the party.

After a few drinks Pike found herself challenging strangers to arm wrestling matches, channeling a little more of Grog than she might have intended the more she drank.

06. Wild Card

Come at me with anything!

'True that' made Isa smirk. What strange words to agree with. She was using that word a lot today and it seemed that wasn't going to stop.

"Fjord," she echoed with a nod, smirk curling almost into a real smile. "A pleasure to meet you as well. I'm afraid I didn't see what brought me here; I hit the forest floor harder than I thought one might, not that traveling like this is something I'm.. accustomed to."

She couldn't help but rub the side of her head, the shifting of it all flashing a glimpse of the tips of her ears before she shifted it all back to hide it.

"Normally it's on horseback. Of my own choice. You mention tides - are you accustomed to the water?" Sayings had their own homes and Isa payed attention.

Arrival

Is this a dream? A vision from the gods? Had she died somewhere in battle and been granted entry to Valhalla to join Ragnar? Lagertha fought to get her eyes to focus on the signs that she was staring up at from the ground. No, she was still very much alive. The Viking pushed herself up with a groan, checking for her sword and any wounds she might have gotten on the way. It was the sound of the portal closing that allowed her to see it before it vanished into nothingness, leaving Lagertha to gasp at the sight of it. With no one else around, the tiny blonde pushed herself to her feet, picked what leaves she could out of her hair, and started trudging towards where the sign was pointing.

This wasn't Paris, Lagertha was sure, but she kept her eyes open for anyone that looked familiar. Any of the men she'd traveled with. Anything. Instead, she found a place that was more advanced than any town she'd seen. Proper stone buildings, roofs that weren't thatched, enough iron to keep several blacksmiths busy for many seasons, wasted on things like sign hangings.

She knew she stuck out in her leather armor and elaborate braids and there was nothing to be done about it, not when she was momentarily consumed with unasked questions, sharply blue eyes trying to take in everything at once so she could even begin to understand what kind of world she found herself in.

Around Town

Leathers had been stored away and traded for a plainer dress, something in the style of the realm she'd found herself in, and her sword suffered a similar fate, finding a home under her rented straw mat. Lagertha was settling, but not well and not easily. This was not Valhalla, as some part of her had hoped, and it was not Norway or Wessex or any of the other lands she'd roamed and seen. No Ragnar and Gyda to welcome her, no glorious feasts.

Nothing but the job she'd secured at the local tavern. If she were to survive, she must eat and to eat meant one needed coin. She was not above this way of earning it. After all, serving an ale was something she'd had much practice in. The Vikings drank a lot.

The first night had given her the wisdom to steal a knife off a drunk to keep on her waist, and the hilt glinted behind her belt as Lagertha stepped back into the Tavern for another night of defending herself against handsy creatures, some of which looked like they stepped right out of the stories and lore she'd so long recited to her children.

Wild Card!
[ In the spirit of not writing three paragraph for each starter type, ~~since I seem to be wordy tonight~~ feel free to set something else up or request a starter for one not included! ]

Edited 2020-01-06 00:59 (UTC)

Pike didn't know this town but she was accustomed to traveling and finding herself in strange places.

She had a small amount of gold on her and she prayed that it would last. She silently wished that Vex'ahlia was here with her bartering ways but for now she would have to get by on her own. Pike spent her days learning about this town and her nights at the tavern, hoping to hear of a beast that needed to be slayed for some coin. She hadn't originally planned to go into mercenary work but it's what she's done for years and she hoped to fall back on her skills as a cleric.

"Waitress?" She called as politely as she could to Lagertha as the loud clamor of the tavern threatened to swallow her words. "Can I have a drink?"

Pike stood out among those at the tavern despite being under three feet tall. Her hair was white with a single braid wrapped like a crown around her head and she was wearing heavy plate armor with her holy symbol resting upon the breast of her plate. She had a mace at her back and thick gauntlets around her wrists.

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Page 2 of 31

Test Drive Meme #1

John Constantine | dctv

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They're fluent in sarcastic cynicism.

around town

Re: Emma Swan | OUaT

small fix, I messed up, he doesn't have a deep voice @_@ tired tags yaaay

Thorfinn Karlsefni | Vinland Saga

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01

Jon Snow | Game of Thrones

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Pike Trickfoot - Critical Role

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Lagertha | Vikings

Around Town