farsickooc | Test Drive Meme #1

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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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Ragnar had arrived a few long days prior and had found things to be both intriguing and all-out overwhelming. But in true Viking style, he was beyond curious about the new land. Though maybe not enough to go out alone until he found out more about his new surroundings a little better. Exploration was in his blood, but only when he made the journey himself. Arriving by way of magic was only something the Gods could do.

Now, there was a need to learn the purpose of why he was brought here, so Ragnar would bide his time.

And how he did that was by stealing what he needed to survive. Today, he was able to pilfer a bag of gold coins off someone in a crowd of onlookers that were taking in a fist-fight outside one of the many taverns. Once the leather satchel is tossed away, the Viking heads inside for something to eat.

Only the Northman stops short when he sees the blonde braided hair and stands there gawking until his ex wife turns around.

Needless to say, it was loud - as loud as battle, Lagertha was sure and the ringing it left in her ears after the rush and drunks were gone was proof enough of the din. Thankfully, she was used to it and then some, and was sure the ringing would stop. Eventually. It helped that she was also used to watching for children under the feet of boisterous men, otherwise she might not have seen the small.. person straining to push her voice across the room.

Lagertha nodded and smiled, lifting a finger before she offloaded her current set of pints with a tight smile and started to turn away. One of the ale bolstered souls decided that Lagertha's hindquarters were fine enough to slap in appreciation and the vibration seemed to move up the proud woman and light a fire in her eyes. In a flash, her small stolen dagger was out and against the throat of the man that had slapped her, skillfully 'encouraging' his chin to tilt up to look at her.

The tavern's din fell quieter, into a murmur with many pointed fingers.

"You would do well to learn some manners," she said coldly, aware that too many eyes were on her, on this, for her comfort. The man looked like he might protest, mouth opening but it only took a soft twist of her blades edge to darken his skin with the almost pinch of blood behind it. It was enough to make the man turn his hands up in surrender, eyes angry and just as proud. Lagertha was earning herself trouble. She didn't care.

Slipping her dagger away, she glanced around. "Well?" The din struck up again, people turning back to their drinks and arguments as though nothing had happened. Lagertha's display left her with an oddly clear path that she used to get to Pike's side.

The Viking gave her strange new customer a hesitant smile as her eyes struggled to take in, well, everything. "Some water or goats milk, perhaps?" Even the question was hesitant - what child would be wearing such fine and clearly expensive armour? How would a child wear such a set of heavy pieces?

Naturally, she assumed that Pike would ignore what Lagertha felt she had to do.

Ironically, Lagertha had come to a similar mind - The Gods had brought her here and for some purpose that she couldn't yet divine. If she found out what it was, satisfied the request and proved herself worthy of the life she'd been fighting her entire life for, maybe she would be returned to her land and son and life. She wasn't done with them yet and she wanted to make the Gods proud.

It helped her get through the first night and would help her through the rest, she was sure. If the Gods wanted her here..

She hated that serving Ale was how she was surviving here but it was going to put coin in her pocket, coin that would get her out of here. That's what she would keep her mind focused on as she loaded up another tray with a bowl of stew and three pints. Too bad Lagertha's ex husband was standing next to the table she was supposed to be serving it to.

Lagertha's world momentarily screeched to a halt and she was back in the tents outside Paris with her head against his coffin, saying her last goodbyes. How is this possible? This wasn't Valhalla but there he was, looking as stupid and as perfect as he ever had. She swallowed thickly and lifted her chin, tucking away the wash of emotion and striding forward to serve the table with not a single word for him.

At least, not until her tray was empty, customers satisfied, and could devote her whole attention to the man that held a vast portion of her heart. The tray was held in the tips of her fingers at her side as she stepped closer to him, blue eyes studying his face intently.

"The Gods have done you wrong, Ragnar," she greeted softly. "You should be at Odin's side, in Valhalla." Not here, in this strange land. What a horrible breach of the promise that they had with their Gods and their religion.

"Are you really here," she whispered warily, words almost lost to the general noise and titter of the tavern at this time of day. Lagertha looked at him like they weren't standing in the middle of such a place, as though it suddenly stopped existing the moment she decided to acknowledge his presence.

Edited 2020-01-06 03:20 (UTC)

The incident wasn't an unfamiliar one but Pike waited before jumping in to assist the woman. It wasn't her place and while she'd back Lagertha up in a heartbeat, she waited and respected the woman as she easily held her own.

That kind of strength was rare and commendable.

Grog would have really liked her.

She smiled and took the remark in stride. So far she was the only non-human she'd seen in this world and it didn't surprise her that she might be treated as a child. She was very small. "Ale please." Pike slipped a hand into her bag, hidden beneath her armor and pulled out a single gold piece. "And something to eat."

"I'm looking for some mercenary work too. If you know of someone I can speak too." Generally people who worked in such establishments were knowledgeable. Pike didn't know that Lagertha was as new as she was to this town.

Cassandra has been thinking quite a lot about Rome. The war against the Titans. The strix. The fauns. And finds herself wondering at the beings that might dwell beyond the town. It doesn’t help that she itches to do something. She’d always been occupied, in Whitestone, and in Rome she had been busy in a different way. A better way. A way she enjoyed. The City she’d been required to find her own ways to occupy herself, and she suspects that this place might be much the same.

But she doesn’t mind. There’s a... freedom here, similar to Rome, that she can’t help but enjoy.

Which is why she’s currently preparing to leave. There are reports of harpies in the forest and she wants to investigate. And deal with them, if necessary. She doesn’t know if they can be reasoned with, but she will try that, first. (The memory of the faun, dying by her hand in order to protect Daud, is still sharp in her mind.) If they prove to be more like the strix, or the creatures who had attacked the City, well... she’ll do what’s necessary.

She’s almost finished with her preparations. Until she hears the clanking of armour followed by an all-too familiar voice. She stills at the sound of it, a complicated, tangled knot of emotions filling her chest. Pike. She’s always liked the cleric, but after Rome... she cannot help but be reminded of the fact that the gnome is Percy’s friend. Not hers. (Grog had been different, a small voice whispers in the back of her head, but she ignores it easily. She’s not ready to trust. Not so easily. Not after Rome. Not after everything. Particularly not someone so closely tied to her brother.)

Exhaling softly, she turns. “Hello, Pike. I didn’t realise you were here.”

Lagertha was a welcoming host, it was something Aslaug had seen time and again. Watching her move around the tavern, serving others but always maintaining her dignity and strength, it was almost as though she were still walking the halls of Kattegat, overseeing every element of the settlement. This didn't seem a tavern, but her home. The knife at her side made it all the more amusing, reminding her of the woman who could easily skin any man that neared her with ill intent.

No matter what passed between them, Aslaug had always admired that in Lagertha.

"You are still jarl, no matter where you are, it seems."

Around Town

Working was easier than starving, acting as a far better distraction for the world Daenerys found herself in, rather than simply sitting and accepting. Stewing was more like. She was never much of a gardener, but there was an herbalist's shop nearby with an elderly man that as owner that didn't mind teaching and patiently showing the former queen what needed to be done.

As weeks started to pass, the tasks became more routine and simple. Gardening behind the shop, tending to the plants and restocking everything in the shelves. When that was finished, she either waited on the customers or ran errands for the owner, as he wasn't able to get around as much as possible. More often, she would be found around the town, her arms loaded with baskets, struggling with whatever door was in front of her or slow moving pedestrian that risked keeping her from her destination.

Naturally, a basket would always slip from her grasp and topple to the floor.

"Would you mind?"

Celebration

The wine was sweet and the festivities were the best way to break the silence of the night. Without the song of her dragons or Missandei to keep her company, spending her evenings surrounded by the members of the city left her feeling less isolated and lost. No, not lost exactly, but adrift. Without her purpose driving her, there was a sense of aimlessness that she never felt before and certainly didn't like.

Surrounded by so many, it was difficult to become morose or lonely. People wove in and out of the crowds, there was dancing music. It was the way she imagined the Targaryen courts before, when there was a better king or queen ruling. It was how she hoped to see her people some day, for now, she would be satisfied with strangers.

"You don't dance?" She asked someone, near enough to hear her over the den.

"Are you lost?" He was a new arrival, she could see that much. They all bore that look for a length of time, it didn't matter if it was days or weeks ago that he appeared. He still seemed to have some measure of shock on him.

She had stepped out of the shop to look over the potted plants and herbs, left in the sun to blossom, but his daze and apparent misery held her attention more. He was young, near around her age at least. He was blonde, but not so white as she was, making the chances of him being Valyrian slim. While she understood the likelihood of her family or friends appearing was small, she still searched for them in the faces of others.

"How long have you been wandering?"

"Jon?" This wasn't how she had seen him last. They had made their goodbyes on the beach, she trying to swallow her emotions and thoughts, wishing him well and hoping he'd return from the Wall safely. That had been the end of it, save for the long conversation with Tyrion by the fire. No word from him, only suspicions of likely danger...and then she was here.

Seeing him covered with dirt and his sword drawn, it took her a moment to even place him. No furs, no confidence, only the lingering hints of battle that she knew all too well. Something had happened...not simply them being brought here, but he was obviously in the thick of something. There were so many questions, so many different emotions.

Instead, all she could seize upon was where they were (or rather where they weren't) and that overwhelming confusion.

"I don't know Gazin, do you?"

It startles him to hear her speak his name, because he hasn't gotten his bearings yet. He doesn't know where she was during the Battle for Winterfell, but he knows it wasn't right next to him.

He takes a moment to catch his breath. "I've never heard of it," he replies as he sheathes his sword. He doesn't need it now. "There's much of Westeros I haven't seen though, much less what's outside of it."

She is tempted to go to him, to look for signs of injuries or worse, but she holds back. Maintaining dignity had always been easier than fully expressing the emotions in her heart, especially with those closest to her. Instead, she searches him for those signs, silently asking him if he were well.

"It was on no maps that I had seen." Not that she knows Westeros expertly. The land had only been on maps for her before. "How did you come here? Do you know?" It didn't seem like an abduction for either of them but magic.

He seems to be uninjured. He's moving fine, not acting like he's in pain, and none of the blood seems to be his. He'll be sore for the next few days though; no amount of training can make him prepared for the actual rigor of battle.

He shakes his head. "No. I was at Winterfell and then I was here."

"Winterfell?" From everything planned, it seemed as though he would be traveling to Eastwatch first and then travel through the Wall. Winterfell wasn't close enough for them to pay visit along the way. "Why were you at Winterfell? You were going beyond the Wall with Ser Jorah and your men to find proof for Cersei."

She didn't want to assume the worst, that something may have happened or worse word had come. After all Cersei had done in the past months to various Houses, it wouldn't be a surprise to know that she set her sights on Winterfell for retribution.

Desite how dead the look in his eyes stayed, they did flicker from the sword to her eyes. Half disconnected, half running on old instincts as he so often did. These days he tried to hide his warrior past, but sometimes things slipped out.

The accent caught his attention, no one else here had seemed to to have it here, but it was just close enough to make some of the fog shake off him. The brown eyes blinked a few times before he seemed to stop spacing. It didn't change his overall outward look aside from those eyes of his seeming to focus. "I do not see a reason... but the gods have their own plans." He replied, sounding less dazed, as he reached up pushing the messy hair from his face some. "Do you expect battle?" He asked finally, not pointing out the weapon but, hey he noticed it.

"No, I just feel a bit strange, I have since I appeared by the sign. Nothing to be concerned with." He spoke as he looked from the tavern to give her his full attention. He missed his blades more than ever, but what point did he have with them? His revenge unfilled, his father forever locked out of Valhalla for his failures.

"We found it." For all the good it had done them. It had been a gamble that he almost hadn't made it back from, but at least Cersei had been forced to admit that he was telling the truth. Now there's nothing to do but wait and see what that gamble got them.

"Winterfell is where we're fighting for the future of Westeros. It's the first place the wights would go on their journey south."

If he was cleaned up, he'd look a lot more human, as it was he was maybe two washes from being feral. He had always been two steps from being feral, and the years in slavery hadn't helped him either, he had just lucked out that his master was a kind man who just kind of left Thorfinn to his devices as long as he cut the trees down.

He had that dazed and confused look, but in truth he had wore it for a long time before he had arrived, the confusion just made it all the worse. He had lost his path, his purpose and almost his will to push on. Being stubborn had been the only factor that had kept him alive since he was six, and he wasn't giving up yet.

When the woman approched, he turned and faced her, his deep brown eyes looked as lost as the rest of him, and yet he could tell she was of high breeding, she held herself the same way The Princess had. The princess of course, was the Prince of all of Denmark....now king. The very soul who lowered him after after months of playing an attempt at friendship, of kinship... He was still deeply wounded by it. But, that didn't matter, not now.

"Not long...I do not know where I am, I know this is not Jutland." His accent was heavy, like all norsemen, but he still sounded young, but the spell made it so he could understand and be understood.

Edited 2020-01-06 16:45 (UTC)

"I don't understand. Why would you find the Wight and not return to Dragonstone or not send me word of this?" No news, even from Ser Jorah. It didn't seem right. Neither of them were men who would simply leave in the middle of something so important. If this war was everything Jon said, he wouldn't abandon this so lightly.

"We only just said goodbye before I was brought here."

While swords were being crafted for Geralt by one of the more reputed weaponsmiths in Gazin, he was out to speak with the druid known as Bhalris to get some information on certain herbs needed for his potions and whether they existed there. It was the last step before he plans to set out and make some coin.

But somewhere between that and the inn from where he started, the Witcher was moving with a few other civilians, one of which was a lady with her young son who kept turning his head around to look at the man who was quite obviously one of the displaced ones that everyone kept talking about. The little boy was so fascinated that he didn't realize who was about to crash into.

Before the words even left Daenerys' lips, Geralt was bent down and picking the item up that had rolled into one of his boots. When he straightens again, amber eyes settle on the woman as he holds it back out to her.

His hair is silver like hers, though his face is more weathered, likely as an adventurer or sell sword. He certainly had that air about him, something that she recognized and felt a familiar pull to. It was no different than when Daario had first arrived at her tent and pledged his service to her. This man had that same strength and charisma, likely similar stories as well. He wasn't someone she recognized, but he was close enough to home for him to be a welcome sight.

She accepted the small basket of nightshade with pretty thanks, smiling despite herself. "It took me long enough to learn to identify and find these flowers. If I had to scour the forest for them again, I think there would be seven hells to pay." But the petals weren't damaged. Despite being an old man, he had sharp eyes and her employer certainly would send her out again.

"You are a stranger here too?"

"No, this is Gazin. It isn't a place I have heard of before either, but we will have time to acquaint ourselves with it, I imagine." After living among so many different dialects, accents weren't so difficult for her to understand or work around. Were they in Meereen, she might try a few of the various that she knew, but this was a strange world and it was more likely he was an other worlder.

"Have you eaten?" It would at least help his daze a little, even if it didn't remove the immediate feeling of unease and mistrust at their surroundings. "My home is near here, if you prefer? I cannot promise something grand, but there is meat and bread and cheese. I can tell you what very little I know."

Somewhere off in the nearby distance, there is a sound of someone with a deep voice speaking, though it's not totally clear until Geralt slowly appears atop his horse, conversing with the mare like one would with another person. Or, at least he is until he notices the woman who had obviously arrived not too long before, judging by the lost way her eyes were darting around once he got properly close enough to see her.

"Slow, Roach," he murmurs, holding a gloved hand up to show the woman he meant her no harm.

Like her, he's in leather, but there are two sword hilts peeking out from behind him and a shiny silver medallion hung around his neck. At this point, he could pass for a local, though there's something in his expression that sympathizes.

"I take it you've just arrived?"

There had been plenty of times when Ygritte could have died but didn't and once when she actually did. His face is the first thing the Wildling remembers when she comes to in the tall grass under the sign sticking out of the ground with the name of a place that isn't at all familiar to her. After sitting up and pulling away the leathers to see a healed mark on her skin where there was once an arrow, memories of the battle began to come back.

That was three days ago.

No one had been able to explain what had happened. None of the locations people told her were anywhere she had ever heard of. And any other question was simply shrugged at. So, Ygritte, now dressed in more common clothing to that of her surroundings, is meandering around the town, learning what she can and slowly getting used to people looking at her because her hair, now seemingly more red than ever, catches their attention.

But, in this case, it's her that notices Jon first and all she can do is stand there and stare.

Edited 2020-01-06 18:34 (UTC)

Now that she was closer and otherwise unoccupied, Lagertha could take a better stock of the person. Small, yes, but there wasn't the painfully naive look of youth to Pike's eye and her face was full and slender in a way that suggested that Pike's childhood years were behind her. By how much, Lagertha couldn't tell but that number didn't matter in context.

"My apologies, I thought you were-" Then again, that didn't matter either. Lagertha took the coin with a brief look at it and nodded. "Ale and food I can get. Mercenary work, I am afraid that I cannot help with but I will ask. Without asking for another coin," she replied with a warm, crooked smile.

The woman didn't look like Mercenary work was.. well, Lagertha didn't let herself get to far with that - a lot of people did not look like they were. It only took her a few minutes to gather Pike's order and only a few more for her to chat briefly with the man that ran the place, who promptly waved her off and cautioned her to not mess around with that element of the town.

Sidling her way back through the people and up to Pike's side, Lagertha sighed with the flash of a smile as she set down the stew bowl on it's breaded plate and the pint of ale. "Being a new face here isn't easy. They won't tell me anything of use to you and I don't know the people well enough to help."

That alone was painfully new. Lagertha always had someone familiar with her, her people, her son, her shieldmaidens. The full room and bustle didn't feel the same as it had at home, like she had thought it would.

Geralt, despite being largely void of expression manages to soften considerably once the woman gets close enough to collect her basket. It allows him to see the colour of her eyes and immediately he's drawn for that reason. There had never been another besides Yennefer who had those eyes and yet, here was someone who did.

He looks down at the flower as she speaks, knowing them well enough from his own world, though by a different name. There was indeed interest on what exactly she would need them for.

The Witcher hums a note, gaze drifting back to her face. "I am. Arrived a few days ago, as many others did."

Back to the flowers.

"Who exactly are you collecting those for?"

His eyes were striking as well, but not as singular or known to her. There was something in them that she hadn't seen in others, a magical element that she recognized but didn't quite understand. It was almost as though she were staring into the eyes of a wolf, perceptive, silent and deadly. Were she still the young girl shrinking at her brother's side, she might have feared him.

Now, he was almost a welcome relief. He might be a stranger, but this strangeness was far better received than anything else that came before now. "I didn't see you among them, but it is easier to find who came from this world and who didn't." There was some level of a dazed look on each of them.

"My employer, an herbalist. He's too old to garden or hunt the woods each day, so this is work I gladly do. I'm still learning, I confess."

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Test Drive Meme #1

Around Town

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04.

Arrival

Daenerys Targaryen | ASOIAF/GOT (Canon undetermined)

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