𝔄 𝔐𝔦𝔡𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔑𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱'𝔰 𝔇𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔤 𑁍 [WINTER TDM]

[gorelord]

Welcome to the Test Drive!

The TDM is welcome to current players and anyone who wants to play in the setting and is encouraged to be used by prospective players. If you are interested in joining the game, you will need to obtain invite from the mod or through an existing member.

For information on the game premise, setting etc, please utilize the navigation pages below. Questions specific to the TDM prompts or the setting can go to the comment thread. Anything else relating to game mechanics can go in the FAQ.

Events in this TDM are considered game canon and occurs immediately after the Chapter II eclipse event between chapters II and III. Any threads in TDM are considered canon as long as both parties agree.

Please make sure to identify in your top levels as either current or new player/characters.

GAME PAGES

premise
setting
faq
rules
glossary

i.
rise:
A Dream's Beginning

(cw:nsfwl; ritual sex, mood altering substances )

It begins with a nightmare, the details of which have slipped through your fingers. Only the curling echo of its dread lingers in your chest. Something has snapped you out of a catatonic state: a gust of icy wind whistling through the crack of a window, the soft beating of drums under the melody of strings, the cold kiss of fat snowflakes catching on your eyelashes, the smell of spiced wine and evergreen.

A few things become clear: You are not where you were, and you are not alone.

Feast for Saints

Tonight is a night of celebration for the Lonely Fortress. The horrors have been set aside, replaced with the warm mirth and grace of being alive. Whether this is your first night in the Crucible or your fortieth, all are welcome to partake in this renewing fete under the silver light of a full buttery moon. Snow dances like flower petals in a lazy array, leaving a shallow blanket of white. The fire roars in the hearth of the Great Hall, spreading its warmth throughout its adjacent parlors. Despite murmurings of a recent catastrophic eclipse cleaving the castle twain, its halls and buildings show no sign of decay. The Egregore has been cleansed, balance has been restored. Spirits are high, people are at ease.

If you choose to partake, there are a few select locations where people have gathered to celebrate:

𑁍The Great Hall is open for feasting and dancing. The fortress stores have provided a wintertime feast of roasted meats & vegetables, pies, fresh and aged cheeses, dried fruits, candied nuts, and seeded cakes. The hall smells of spiced honey wine and mulled cider, both packed with a warm and buzzing inebriation that creeps on unexpectedly. A makeshift band of strings and drums plays lively music for people to dance to.

𑁍The Velvet Parlor is a smaller hall branched off of the main festivities for those looking for softer and more intimate comforts under the candlelight. Tonight, its guests pay tribute to celebrate the passion of life and to beckon the sun to rise in a ritualistic tangling of bodies. Here is the place to become a true eater of sin. All furniture has been nudged to line the walls, making way for a sea of cushions and pillows for celebrants to laze upon as they imbibe in strong, distilled spirits, as the air above them swirls with a sweet, toasty incense imbuing a mellow calm and stirs carnal appetites. A masked man plucks away a sultry tune on his lute in a corner as the night gradually gives way to passionate bodies tangled among the pillows.

𑁍The Courtyard brings a breath of fresh, brisk air as snow falls playfully overhead. Large braziers line the yard offer meager warmth from their roaring fires as exiles partake in snow fights and release wishing lanterns bearing your inner most desires into the sky. Steam rolls off the yard's central fountain, which has been fitted to disperse heated water to provide a makeshift heated pool, a perfect place to thaw chilly hands or feet (or just go all in if ye be bold enough.)

A Colder Path

If instead you choose to abstain, it becomes apparent every dream has its limits.

The castle beyond the festivities is cold, dim, and abandoned. Behind every door, a drab and empty room (if the handle isn't locked or broken). The keep's gates are closed, the sunken village beyond a frozen wasteland. The further one strays from the warmth and merriment, the colder and darker it becomes.

Isolation breeds madness, too much time spent away from others may lead to paranoia. Figures shift in the dark, a breath tickles the nape of your neck. You may see familiar faces, hear familiar voices, beckoning you to stray further from your path towards uncertain doom: a crooked nail sticking out of the floorboards, a hurried shove off the top of the stairs, a door that opens over the edge of a rocky cliff.

As determined as you may be, the only way out of this dream is through.

ii.
revel:
Trials of Merciful Holly

(cw:potential for dubcon/noncon, mood-altering.)

As the midwinter evening persists, a visitor long awaited comes knocking at the Great Hall's doors. A tall man emerges with a body molded out of braided wood, bearing thorn-tarnished armor and a tattered crimson cloak. With every step forward, thorned vines that stitch across the walls and floors, blooming with plum purple leaves and small budding flowers.

"The Briar Lord," one exile gasps. "Gregor's returned," another praises tearfully. With a bow, he treats the celebrants of the Lonely Fortress with the innocence of a festive game.

"O' eaters of sin, indulge me in this friendly Midwinter game. Ye have survived a harrowing and for that ye shall be rewarded for purging of thy wickedness. I ask thee this final offering to purge this winter and beget a new spring. Give me thy blood and affection with honor and I shall see this cold vanquished. What I am given, I will return what was given me. Then, in trust and friendship, we shall part."

Bats and Lashes

The Lord's game is a simple marital task held out in the frost covered garden: a duel of branches. Each competitor will be given handful of briar as their weapon. The aim of the game is to whip each other until the thorns of the briar's branches draw blood. The first to draw blood from the opponent is the victor and the blood price paid.

Yet, not all these branches are created equal. A fortunate competitor may be given a Bewitching Branch. Those whipped by this branch will become utterly obsessed and infatuated to whom they've been struck by for a short period of time after, beholden to their branch master until the sting of thorns wane.

Tithe of the Mistle

If you choose not to partake in the Lord's game, the Lord warns that his winter's briar will collect a tithing of affection. The vines that bloomed with his arrival grow rampant behind seeing eyes. Buds turn into flowers, petals shed as they mature into plump white mistle berries that release the sweetest scent to draw you in.

Either you have accidentally stumbled upon the mistle, or it has decidedly grown itself above you without your noticing, but you become bewitched by its scent. As the tricksy bramble coils around your ankles, giving the gentlest of biting from its thorns, it becomes clear that you will be consumed if you do not pay the mistle its tithing. For some, it only takes a kiss, for others, the mistle will demand more. Give it something meaningful. Give it something real, and you will be released.

iii.
respite:
Midwinter Mourning

All good dreams must come to an end. The following morning paints a different picture of the Lonely Fortress witnessed in the night's collective dreaming. The Crucible sits under a thick blanket of snow, the waters surrounding the keep have frozen solid. None of the warmth of the night remains; it feels as though the world has died. The whole of the Crucible feels cold, quiet, abandoned.

Every hearth has burned out, every brazier snuffed under the snow, every candle smothered. It's quiet, empty, dark. Daylight may have come, but a thick layer of storm clouds casts a foreboding shadow. If the desire remains to leave, it quickly becomes apparent there is nowhere else to go.

Warm Winter's Kiss

With luck, you have woken in a bed under a pile of old furs to keep some semblance of warmth with you. With even better luck, you've woken next to company to keep each other warm throughout a cruel cold morning. Without proper protection, the cold is biting against exposed skin. Joints and limbs become stiff and numb, making it difficult to move around without constant tending if one lacks gloves.

While hearths can be re-lit and heated baths can be drawn, the true comfort from freezing can only be found in the close company of other living creatures. Exiles on this cruel morning keep each other warm through sharing heated breaths and pressing bodies. Expressions of passion and compassion help the warmth to linger just a bit longer for those who cultivate it together, granting brief autonomy of movement before finding another's heat is needed again.

Breakfast is served, but it's nothing remotely glamorous to the feasting offered by the Midwinter dream: simple porridge that leaves a stale taste that coats the tongue, nuts and fruits that are half rancid, boiled wine that's been watered down to detract from how far along it's turned into vinegar. Its only promise is to fill an empty stomach until more food can be found.

Outside, the snow begins to fall again. An omen that this winter is here to stay. Welcome to the real Martyr's Crucible.

Comments

[bloodrops]

[ he shakes his head at the name. it doesn't ring a bell, sorry. ]

Look, Shane.

[ him letting down his guard is what snaps Louis out of it. this could have been an easy, friendly chat, but it's starting to feel like he's fooling the kid by letting him believe his company is normal and good. he's pretended to be mortal before, of course, a friend, when he's hunting, but after the crazy festival he swore off human blood again (Aemond was a snack, not a full meal), and the guilt is getting to him. so enough with the easy. ]

I'm going to be honest with you since you seem like a nice kid. [ he speaks gently, softly, as if to keep him calm despite the absurdity of what he's about to tell him. ] You're fully out of your depth here. You've stepped into a dark, macabre nightmare. Nothing's going to make sense to a young, diligent athlete such as yourself. You're going to need to be very brave, okay?

[mountreal]

[ Somehow that Look, Shane instantly makes him feel like he's being sat down by his mother for a serious talk, and it's as if a biological part of Shane responds to it. His dark eyes, really his whole face, is warily open, worried like always but locking in is what he's done well his whole life.

Until now, it seems. ]

Uh. Brave. [ Okay, well. Okay. Not really what someone wants to hear after they've been kidnapped and Shane struggles to manage even mildly awkward interactions. He's clearly struggling now, a curious blankness taking over his features as he tries to process Louis's warning. ] And what exactly... does that mean? In practice? If I need to, you know. Make a plan.

[ Already nothing about this place makes sense, so hearing it will only get worse is... hard for him to imagine. He is, like Louis has pointed out, an athlete, born and bred. Not the most imaginative type. But he is good at planning and following through. ]

It seems pretty quiet right now. What is it usually like?

[bloodrops]

No plan is going to help you.

[ this kid is nothing like Steve or Quentin. physically he could probably take them, but Louis doesn't see in him the same desperation to survive. he's guarded but vulnerable, oblivious to the cruel dangers surrounding him. what makes Louis want to warn him is the familiar sadness he recognizes in him. there's already so much the kid is dealing with. ]

Have you ever felt like there was someone in the house with you when you were alone? It's the quiet, the irregular noises in the night that get into your head. This fortress and the fog surrounding it are designed to drive you mad. There's no preparing for it.

[mountreal]

[ Shane's stubbornness is settling in fast as a desperate defense against what he's hearing and a hardness that looks almost at home there firms up his face. He doesn't like to be told that something is impossible. Especially something that needs to be accomplished. He's done impossible things his whole life. ]

Why are you telling me, then? If nothing will help?

[ Shane isn't used to getting mad, he does it a lot but it never seems to feel any easier. It's distressing every time so he tries to swallow it back, tries to keep it cool with this stranger who is throwing the weirdest shit talk at him that Shane's ever experienced. ]

Tell me something that will help. Or else I know you're just trying to fuck with me. Are you? Trying to fuck with me?

[bloodrops]

[ and he doesn't like it when his help isn't appreciated – even if it's obvious that the kid is slowly freaking out. Louis's voice takes a slightly sharper tone. ]

I'm trying to warn you, Shane. It might no do you any good, but at least you'll know what's going on when you lose control.

[ by now that's become the only predictable constant. losing the ability to hold back and not indulge in something you shouldn't. ]

I can stop if you'd rather not hear it.

[mountreal]

[ Unlike many people who would instantly buck at the intensifying authority in Louis's tone, it cuts through to Shane in a way that's almost comforting. Familiar, the way a coach raising his voice at him is. It settles him down instead of riling him up in this specific circumstance where he knows so painfully little and someone else knows more.

The perpetual student in him quiets his urge to chirp back. ]

Lose control? In what way?

[ And then Louis offers to stop if Shane wants him to and the last of Shane's defiance and defensiveness evaporates. ]

No, I-- no. I mean, if you're trying to help. Is this from... experience? What you're trying to tell me?

[bloodrops]

[ this guy is so easy. Louis pauses before he offers any more of his wisdom, maybe just to keep him on his toes. ]

Yeah. What you give out is what you get. This world responds to our feelings and our thoughts. We've all caused damage we didn't mean to.

[ and that's not even including the servitors! but bringing them up now would surely break the boy, so he leaves that for someone else. ]

[mountreal]

[ It should have been obvious from Louis's language, in fact it pretty much is to Shane, but in his typical fashion he can't help asking. Being absolutely sure that he's understanding what's being communicated seems to be important to him. ]

You mean your feelings caused... something to happen? Here?

[ Not that he understands what Louis means by responds to our feelings and our thoughts, none of Shane's airplane sci-fi movies are filling in the blanks, but he's compelled to take the moment seriously because Louis is. Even though it sounds impossibly insane when he says it out loud. Shane even looks around to make sure no one is overhearing them. ]

What happened? I mean, if you can tell me.

[bloodrops]

Something bad happened because I didn't have my guard up. If you notice other people getting into a frenzy, walk out.

[ he isn't going to get into details because that's not helpful. all Shane needs to know at this point is to be even more careful. Louis cracks a playful smile at him as he turns to leave. ]

With those thighs getting away shouldn't be a problem.

[ they are impressive. ]

[mountreal]

Okay.

[ Finally, instructions that are clear and easy for Shane to follow. Keep your guard up, stay ready. That's something he can do, something he's used to doing, at least as far as his own life applies. He knows to stay away from crowds, from unpredictable fans people.

But then Louis sends his brain to a screeching halt. ]

My-- what?

[ He heard, but Shane's mouth is hanging open as Louis leaves. Struck dumb, worried that the other had said that because he could sense something about Shane and not just because it was something he wanted to say.

But with his heart beating a mile a minute and a thousand new stupid questions, Shane just lets him go. Better that way. ]