ℑ𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔡𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 ℌ𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𑁍 [TDM]

[gorelord]

Welcome to the Test Drive!

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.

GAME PAGES

premise
setting
faq
rules
glossary

i.
arrival:
Well darlings, don't you panic

(warnings:drugs)

It begins with a nightmare, the details of which have already slipped through your fingers. Only the curling echo of its dread lingers in your chest. Something has snapped you out of a catatonic state: the shudder of rain and thunder battering against the window, a cold chill running down your spine, or perhaps the smell of dinner stirring your appetite. Whatever it may be that brings you back to your senses, you find yourself in an old moldering estate lost to a bygone time.

You are not alone. A warm hand touches your arm as someone checks in to see if you're alright before they pull away.

You're in the middle of someone's cozy gathering: a humble gathering spread throughout the entire wing of some manor. The warm glow of lamplights and candles light the way around a cluster of interconnected rooms. Flickering shadows conceal the peeled edges of the wallpaper. The pungent scent of dinner and smoke layers over the dampness of the wood. There is the feeling of forgotten opulence made anew by its current occupants: finely carved and ornate furniture sits askew in some places, threadbare rugs layered over one another, melted candle wax piled on the corners of mantles and sconces.

There are no serving staff, only eclectic guests of mixed status who look no more belonging to their surroundings than you. Like any house party, there are those open to mingling with strangers and will fill you in on your situation. Others turn in on their huddles and cannot otherwise be bothered to include you in their company. You learn you've been at the Lonely Fortress anywhere between a morning and a fortnight. It's not uncommon for new arrivals to take a while to come around. All that matters is you're present, you're alive, and you should try to enjoy the night.

oh fantasy, feed me!

If you're feeling out of sorts, getting some food in you will help. The dining hall is there for those who follow the aroma. Long draped tables are dressed with various tiered plates and platters of a feast fit for a woodland lord. Attendees graze the dressed tables for bits of roast, bites of vegetables, and the occasional sweet or bread roll. Carafes and pitchers scattered up and down the tables hold fortified wines, spruce ales, ciders, and fruit punches. The food is losing its warmth, but even just a nibble will help ground you from the foggy haze you've stumbled out of.

Smalltalk is easy to come by here. If you've just come to, someone might be nudging you to pass the olives. Get to know your neighbor. Eat, drink, mingle.

a jump to the left

If dinner doesn't suit you, the stronger liquor can be found in one of several interconnected parlors where groups of people have collected to socialize and entertain one another. There's gambling in the Smoking Parlor where people bet away favors or trinkets over card games. A haze of herbal smoke swirls overhead, lending to the room's abnormal warmth.

The Velvet Parlor will suit those looking for a more intimate mood. The center floor before the hearth is piled with rugs, blankets, and pillows for patrons to laze over. In a dark corner, a masked man plucks away a druzy melancholic tune on a pear-shaped instrument, lending to a subdued ambiance. Small groups convalesce among couches and pillows as they imbibe in mood dizzying substances meant to soothe frazzled souls. Partaking in these drinks might leave you feeling a bit loose lipped. Join them in drinking games such as two truths and a lie, charades, and truth or forfeit.

a step into the night

If the party isn't to your liking, there are dark corridors aplenty to get turned around in. The Fortress is a maze to navigate at night. No lights beyond the party line the corridors, forcing those to wander by lamp or candle. The further away from the revelry, the colder and damper it gets. The sounds of the storm raging outside howls through the hall, rattling doors, and other unexplainable bumps in the night. The deeper in the dark you wander, the more paranoid you begin to feel. Is there something lurking after you in the dark? Beyond the battering of the rain, the air is eerily still. Occasionally, you may hear the whispers of feverous ritualistic chanting echoing in the dark. No matter how hard you try to follow it, you are unable to find the source.

If your first instinct was to try to leave, you'll find locked gates and a spitting rain. It's not worth traveling in these conditions, so you might as well stay inside for a little while until you can see where you're going.

ii.
fight or flight:
Madness takes its toll

(warnings: monster transformation/body horror (bug adjacent), violence/gore, aphrodisiacs, sex, potential for dubcon. )

Later into the night, something begins to feel off. Call it a gut feeling, a primal instinct. A loud, monstrous shriek pierces the air that leaves your ears ringing.The lights flicker and snuff out, plunging the fortress into a darkness. All revelry tumbles to a dead stop as one by one the light begins to return. The warm tone of the night shifts cool as a few brazen souls step out into the hall to heed unearthly cries only to never return. Commotion rattles the walls as the monster hunts through the dining hall, leaving a pile of crumpled bodies with the marrow sucked from their bones.

A monster has crashed the party (or perhaps it was summoned). Lonely, human-like cries slither through the halls, beckoning victims into the maw of a ghastly beast by mimicking the sounds their most cherished loved ones. Shaped like a large, overgrown humanoid centipede, it scuttles through the inky dark on dozens of spindly hands, hunting by sound alone. Those who hear its cries may need to fight an unearthly compulsion to return the call and beckon it near.

"Servitor," an old man's grave whisper slips into everyone's minds. "Contain your fear, find sanctuary, do not make a sound. Go now."

rise and scatter

Without a word, everyone retreats as quickly and quietly as possible. Doors are shut, shuddered, and locked. Those who are unable get to safety quietly are followed and spirited away off into the darkness to be crushed and consumed by the unseen creature. People barricade the doors, others open the windows to let the sound of the rain to muffle their noise. Secret passages behind the tapestries are unveiled as small groups pair off to sneak off to find refuge elsewhere.

No one speaks, but their voices slip into each other's minds. The soft murmurings of more seasoned residents urge those capable of hunting the monster to get to the armory and for the rest to split into smaller groups. The monster needs to be driven out and the rest need to prevent the infection of hysteria. Here, comfort is only found in numbers, safety is not guaranteed.

Choose wisely which path you take and who becomes your lockdown partner. Not everyone will make it through the night. Do what you need to survive. Don't speak. Don't panic.

rose tint my world

If you chose sanctuary: be prepared to wait a while in the room you've hunkered down in or risk exposing yourself to the horrors lurking the corridors. Occasionally, you can hear whatever it is hunting; the skittering of legs and the sorrowful cry that tempts the weak-hearted. If you hear a loved one crying out for you, it's not recommended to heed it.

Not everyone fearfully hunkers down to wait the night, though. You may find yourself in mixed company who take on stranger measures to distract themselves. Instead of huddle quietly, waiting for death to stalk them, their comforting beins to devolve into quiet and desperate carnal pleasures. Soft hands paw over worried faces before tucking a candy into their mouths. The sentiment here is clear: don't ask too many questions, just eat the candy and go with the flow. Its properties can be swiftly felt: a relaxant and a mild aphrodisiac. The people in here are trying to fight the spread of panic with the distraction of intimacy. The veil of rainfall drowns out soft unkept moans and labored breaths. If you're unwilling to participate in a light horrorgy, none here will compel you, but it's probably better to find a different corner to quell your hysteria.

a feeling of unnameable dread

If you join the monster hunt: you can pick up a weapon from the armory. The Fortress provides an eclectic collection of premodern arms suited for the most modest of novices to the most sporting of hunters. No firearms, you'll be in close quarters and a bullet won't be very effective against this servitor. You get a torch and either a blunt or bladed weapon. Whatever you take, hopefully you know how to use it.

The servitor is sensitive to light and sound. Some hunters are tasked with luring it away by playing a high-stakes game of marco polo. Others who feel more equipped to defeat it, might find fire to be particularly useful. Be weary of other horrors bumping around in the dark. The night can play tricks on the senses, and just believing something might be lurking in the dark might briefly manifest your horrors into reality.

iii.
respite:
Down the river of night's dreaming

An announcement of the servitor's defeat comes in the mere hours before dawn. Those who have holed themselves away begin to emerge. Anyone who perished at the hands of the monster will have left nothing behind but smears of blood where they met their demise. You're told their bodies have been taken by the bramble, but little more is divulged. Not everyone here is at your beck and call for answering questions.

The overall mood is somber and exhausted, leaving the once raging storm outside to dwindle down to tranquil trickle of rain. For now, it's to begin winding down the night for a much needed rest and recovery. It's time to clean up for the night, tend to any wounds, and find a place to rest.

Medical supplies are far from any modern counterparts, but the resident herbalist can spare salves, tinctures, and clean bandages along with any tonics to quell any lingering weariness. The first night after awakening can be difficult, riddled with nightmares. If you do not take up the offer of a sleeping tonic, you may find yourself sleepwalking.

oh no, they were bunkmates

Despite the size, private bedchambers are in short supply. Newcomers may find themselves paired up to share quarters or fighting to keep their space to themselves as more filter in looking for a place to sleep. If you're not willing to share a room or a bed, there are plenty of other spots to curl up into and rest for a few hours; however, seasoned exiles warn that those who insist on remaining alone tend to have a rougher night's sleep.

Comments

[gorelord]

[ A crack that arcs above the dribbling rain snaps the servitor's attention their way. More of its long body drop across broken chunks of stone as it clambers into the dark chamber.

Closer and closer. It lets out another warble that sounds equally like either of their mothers— bereft as it attempts to choke out their names.

The wood beneath its weight yawns dangerously, threatening to take the rest of the floor and them with it as it paws nearer.]

[sapphyre]

[ This floor won't hold the three of them. Somewhere beneath them, a support beam cracks. Aemond flexes, thighs tightening around his nephew as though the grip alone could spare their falling. Tighter, trying to ignore the siren's song of his mother's voice teetering on the edge of a sob.

Then, Aemond's attention breaks to extend one leg to give space beneath him and drag the both of them along the wet floor. One knee drags Jacaerys along as the other clambers for more stable flooring. It's a balance of not causing too much noise or pressing too much weight on an already fragile foundation. The more distance the better, though Aemond laments the absence of a short blade that might be able to make quick work. (Could he get in close enough without his bones getting sucked off? His ego persists.)

Knowing it leaves Jacaerys a window to upturn his misfortunes is a risk willing to be taken. In truth, he should leave his nephew for the eating. If only their score wasn't one to be settled alone.]

[vermax]

( The proximity, the tighter squeeze of Aemond's thighs around his own and the adrenaline in Jace's veins are a poor combination when earlier in the evening Aemond's elder brother had shoved an aphrodisiac laced candy down his throat. The tightness in his breeches is an uncomfortable realisation, when danger lurks so near and cries out in his mother's own voice.

But that is enough to bring him back into the moment, helped by the fact that at least Aemond has mind enough to move them before the floor beneath them gives.

Aemond slides them along and then Jacaerys moves with him, careful and measured. And as they move closer further from the beast and toward the doorway out of the room where, hopefully, the flooring does not give beneath them. )

[gorelord]

[ They move, it moves with them. It's head stutters around curiously as it tries to piece together the movement of food underneath the fall of rain. As the wood strains beneath it's weight, it's many hands begin clawing up the sides of the walls. Scuttling closer and closer and—

It passes over them, head lurching curiously down the open hall from whence both boys came. It pulls itself towards the ornamentation carved along the ceiling vault and disappears into its hunt for much noisier prey. ]

[sapphyre]

[ Curious beast. Under the sliver of his eye, Aemond watches the many-handed creature slither across the ceiling and into the deeper dark. His blood buzzes, electrified by its passing. A creature of the hells, one he might find curious to take a closer eye in better light. He needed a better weapon, and so would his nephew. If he survives the night.

Footsteps dither into nothing under the murmur of the storm. A notch of tension flakes off his shoulders with the exhale of a breath gone unrealized for how tightly it burned in his chest. Relief and the thrum of life pumping into his veins. This moment is bright and clear. Like being unexpectedly pulled towards the earth. A brush with the Stranger.

Shifting then, to test the strength of the floor beneath them, he can feel something pressed into the crook of his thigh. His attention flicks downward, tendrils of silver hair tickling Jace's cheeks. Either the prince is all too aware of the anatomy of the man beneath him, or— Aemond's eye flicks to meet his nephew's, rifling across his features to answer a question he'd not ask.

There is no thought that can penetrate the high hum roaring in his blood. The charged stare that provokes his nephew into action. He's not certain if he waited long enough for the idea to take a venomous root, provoking Jace into the snapping dragon that he is. Or if it was Aemond himself who caved to it first, incapable of stopping himself from clashing them together mouth to mouth. ]

[vermax]

( The creature leaves and then it is just the two of them, two beasts who share blood and wished to spill each other's not minutes before.

Jacaerys still wishes to disappear into the floor beneath them when Aemond's gaze flicks down their pressed bodies, when he realises. Aemond's stare is met with his own, as if he is in a place to rebuff anything at all. He is prepared for biting words but not the press of mouth to his own, not for Aemond to move first.

But Jace's reaction is near instantaneous once another silver-haired uncle's lips claim his own. One hand threads through the long strands of hair at Aemond's nape, the other grips at his hip as Jace arches up and pulls him ever firmly closer. It is the adrenaline, he'll say later. The brush with death and the taste of survival that he chases as he groans into the other prince's mouth.

He chases it until his lungs burn but what is the need for air? What is reason? It pales in comparison to the fire burning through his veins and the desire there, pooled low in his gut as he ruts up to meet the roll of Aemond's hips against his own and chases the rewards of their survival. )

[sapphyre]

[ In that moment, all that matters is something real and familiar in a very hysterical place. Jacaerys is here, the only familiar thing in this place at this very moment. Aemond clings to him like a rock in a storm. A firm and eager mouth. He can smell the stink of Jace's dragon clinging to his leathers, taste it faintly when his tongue delves selfishly into the back of his mouth.

It is like kissing a viper, knowing it will soon strike as soon as it gathers its senses. Good. Good. Let it be him. Both of them at the end of the world, fighting to the bitter end. He would have wished for a better opponent. But let t be Jace, let it be this.

His groan is softer. Almost in par with the groaning of the wood beneath them, grinding hip to hip in rain-sodden trousers. He thinks less and less of his nephew trying to take his end and chase something else in return. Overcome either by his senses or temptation, his teeth bite down into tender flesh until it bears him fresh blood. ]

[vermax]

( Blood blooms between them, spilling from Jace's veins onto their lips. The bite earns a hiss and Jace's fingers tighten in Aemond's hair but he does not pull his away, doesn't move back himself. If anything, it spurs him on and he hears the pounding of his heart more frantically in his own ears. Speaking, saying anything it all feels like it would break whatever spell he is losing himself to.

The rain falls against the roof, the wind beats at the walls. Jace chases pleasure and the high of survival, the knowledge that they have more moments to live.

His other hand snakes to Aemond's waist, wrapping around his flank to pull him tighter until the rhythm of their hips stutters and there is nothing but this.

But the friction is not enough, not quite. He drops the hand from Aemond's hair to the grimy floor, uses it as leverage along with the leg still wrapped around his uncle's hips to try and roll them over once again for surely then the heat, the want, the friction will be enough if he can press the elder to the floor and set the pressure and rhythm once again until it is not only sweat, rain, and dirt staining their trousers. )

[sapphyre]

[ Warm and bitter, the prince relishes the taste mingling between stolen breaths. An urge rumbles to tear into him for fresh flesh. He is the closest thing to another dragon, spoilt as his blood is (and Aemond will not acknowledge the same severity lacking in his own), he can convince himself that he can taste the acridness running through his veins.

The prince's back hits the sodden floor, and he couldn’t care less. A noise murmurs between their mouths betrays the truth of how easily he is succumbing to this. Jace's hips move to a rhythm of all their own, spiking a heated need inside of him that cannot be denied. Aemond's hands slide in deeper through the thickness of curls. Another moan slips out, heeling to the heat of the moment.

His heels kick in, grooving easily into the softened wood. That should have been his first warning, but it gives the rub of his nephew's cock in just the right place beside his own. To his foolishness, he chases it. He digs his elbow against the floor to begin pushing himself up. Something cracks beneath him. Too much, too late.

Aemond's only partially aware of the sagging of the floor, numbed by the rain and distracted by the hot mouth gnashing against his. Weight falls away beneath him, void opening its ugly maw to swallow him whole. His arms and legs scramble outward, scraping what floor is left that isn't about to fall with him. ]