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

[sapphyre]

[ An odd sentiment to share, at least not one that Aemond had heard often. Most maidens and court ladies seemed to pale at the sight of such an unsightly scar. Out of politeness, out of fear. The slightest curl of confusion knits the prince's expression, fixed as she takes her place. Small, unassuming, unthreatening. His eye doesn't leave her.

Nor is he immune to beguilement, or perhaps he is too far gone to question her meaning. Something here isn't right, but he is incapable of picking at loose threads in the dark. ]

You must be mistaken, I've naught to spare.

[ She must be confused, and now she's made it his problem. His elbow slides beneath him, an inconvenient sigh aches out as he begins the arduous task of getting up.]

lmk if this is ok! :>

[nightbite]

[that's offensive to her specifically actually, so much that she presses her hand to his chest to keep him still. small, but with great strength in her palm. heeling men is her specialty, and she smooths her strength over with a gentle caress of her fingers. she holds his gaze with intent, being so bold to lean her face in closer, nose to cheek, lips to ear.]

Oh, no, no.

[exaggerated and brought to life by his resistance. she thought he'd be an easy mark, already sleepy and mind drifting to darkness. instead his mind trails to women who recoil from his differences - what a funny man.]

I will help you sleep if you would please spare only a little. A drop, Aemond. I need...[murmuring so sweetly:] only a drop and your dreams will be so lovely. I promise.

yes absolutely! !

[sapphyre]

[ The thrum in Aemond's chest flutters for a new reason now. What if he doesn't want to dream at all? What if he wants a break just for the night? It's why he took the tonic, secretly hoping for the dull of the poppy to take him. Perhaps then he could evade fate haunting him in his sleep.

It gives her promise some teeth. Where rationally he would distance himself, he doesn't resist the way she encroaches upon him like a shadow. It's not until the way she speaks his name does a soft breath release its hold in his chest, tension yielding at last. Willful, but not impervious her caressing. Her touch is soft, and her breath on his ear draws him from the glaring holes he would shame any other man for not seeing. ]

That is a mighty promise to make. [ He isn't rebuking her, but he has no way of knowing what she intends to collect. ] For such little as a drop.

[ He can afford a new moment of weakness, he thinks. He's longed for the comfort she teases, and he's too exhausted to question it harder. ]

[nightbite]

I can do that, too.

[answering with enthusiasm on the edge of his thoughts. if it's nothing he wants, she'll gladly dole that darkness out; a vast void of cotton comfort to be enveloped in. her voice takes up a tangible amount of space, from the honeyed promises on her tongue to the palace of his mind. he's malleable at least, though she can sense his debating.]

A mighty promise! Yes, I suppose so. [snakelike, unfurling herself over him to straddle his hips and keep herself low against his chest. poised to pounce.] Not impossible. I can take your neck or your wrist.

[her smile would be seductive if it weren't for the canines digging into her lower lip. she drags a finger along his jugular gently.]

Or somewhere else.

[sapphyre]

[ Ah, so it's his blood she seeks. Realization dawns on him, eye fluttering at the touch that trails the pulsing beneath his skin. Somewhere else, she suggests. Aemond shifts and stills as he adjusts himself on his elbow, unable to fully contain how it might fluster him as much to have her body caging his. As small as she is. ]

Do you know what you trifle with? [ His focus lands on the sweet curl of her lips, ignoring the dryness in his throat. The sharp promise of teeth noticed better now than before.

Thoughts spill out so freely here, he'd felt it in others earlier when the panic ensued. He knows not if his own leak to her now or if she has other ways of gleaning from his mind. Any attempt to barricade them is clumsy, experimental. He thinks he's special, his blood more so. The very measure which has bound him to gods, to dragons. It's a heresy of its own to share it with her, some witch or creature, he knows not any better.

His eye flicks back up to meet hers. ] Or does it not matter to your likes?

[nightbite]

[there's surprise in her faux-doe look with what he's implying. curious intent as she pets his jawline affectionately, thumb and forefinger gripping his chin. she wonders if he's dealt with her kind before, and trickles of his own magic spills into her to make her hungry. she's never met a dragon before. his warmth reaches her skin and brings some color to her cheeks.]

Do you? [batting her eyes, toying with her food. she can smell him just fine where she is but inhales deeply anyway - for the theatrics - and blows air up to her bangs.] I am no witch and I have many, many names. Hm, don't move,

[feeling a shift beneath her she wriggles her hips. wonders what a dragon-child will do. he's entertaining her, has no real protection from her prodding, and she can't decide if he's being bratty. a fun little game! satisfied with her adjustment and treating him as a lover after a long night (only the lover is trapped) she taps against his chin thoughtfully.]

Not to me, but perhaps to others. I should think it would matter, but...I think you want it to matter. [now's the real test.] You are special.

[sapphyre]

[ Not a witch, something else. A story from across the Narrow Sea. A legend from the North where they spoke of wintery shades that walked the Long Night. The curiosity for it continues to gnaw at him, but not fear. It could be his hubris that deters it, or it could be a part of her bewitchery. He's docile in her hand, the way a hound is, the way a dragon might be when testing the mettle of a potential rider. Capable of striking, choosing not to. It's not unnoticed she too moves carefully, purposeful in a way that he finds familiar. Not so human after all, mayhaps.

His hand juts out in defiance towards her wriggling, fingers steadying along her hip as she settles. She teases at him, and that has always been a complicated manner. His jaw flexes beneath her fingers as her words try to pierce into something. ]

Then you already know what I am, and I know you are capable of more than you promise. [ he pointedly notes, speaking carefully along the curve of the hand that grips him. She could be mocking him, he will see it set right again. But respectfully, get out of his head. ]

[nightbite]

[oh, a delight in his new clarity. partial to being polite over being rude (she thinks as she lays atop this stranger) she retracts herself from the temptation of needling away into his soul. his fingers at her hip assit in distracting and surprising her. he resists yet holds her still, which she finds fickle.]

Yes, so sorry! You are hard to resist, your stories go so far and I only wanted to see a tiny bit. A drop.

[repeated, eyebrow arching as she looks at him. deep brown eyes gazing into the one peering back at her. thoughts are like water, streams upon endless streams. beautiful and horrible and unforgiving and human, everything she'd like to devour and discover. her energy deflates at the thought, hand at his face more tender. less teasing seductress and more girlish. men like vulnerability, but she's also trying to find connection.]

This place has stolen from me. Have you noticed? I cannot care for you as I usually would. I am exhausted Aemond, [pouty, but refusing to whine,] but I can promise the dreaming you seek if I you give me your blood.

[sapphyre]

[ In truth, he is the wrong sort to respond to the pulling of heartstrings. To the chagrin of his mother and the others who have surrounded him, there is little that can get through. Here, all that would seem to matter is to give and to get. She promises him a dreamless sleep for something as steep as a blood price.

He has already taken a tonic that has lulled him into an ease of entertaining this conversation. Does he truly need her? No, but he is curious for the offering and more quietly so the desire for company, even if he would not want to admit it to himself. Even if she is strange and so eager to prod into his mind. ]

Hm. [ His expression softens. Let him mull over the prospect of sharp teeth. Fingers flexing idly as he contemplates. Will a drop still be a drop, or will she find it hard to resist then, too? ] I have need for both my neck and my wrist.

[ An ill-placed bite will hinder his ability to fight, something he should not willingly walk himself into in a place like this. His eye draws up to hers again. ]

So where will you take it?

[nightbite]

[she notices some harshness leave his features, making her wonder if she needed to soften him with persuasion to begin with or if it even worked at all. aemond has barely fought her, but maybe that's the tonic speaking, or he was already made soft by something (or someone) else. she wants to know and her eyes beg for answers he'll likely never give willingly.

the house is an enigma of magick and mutations that she'll need to investigate on her own time. this mortal man is the priority right now, appearing to be open to a trade.]

Oh, do you not know? [even without blinking her movements are nearly impossible to track if not for the shift of weight on his body. once above the sheets and now under them, her fingers squeeze his leg affectionately. she is a cool breeze on warm skin.] There are lovely veins in your thighs.

[sapphyre]

[ The movement jolts him, muscle tense under the cool squeeze of fingers. There's more warmth beneath the blankets than the parts of him exposed to the night's air. A shiver runs down his spine that he attempts to stifle. The prince draws draws back on his elbows with his chin sinking towards his chest, the tiredness of his own body combined with hers on top of his feels like his body is sinking with her into the void of the mattress.]

I'm beginning to question if a drop will remain a drop. [ When she chooses places that can bleed a man in moments when cut too deeply. Why does she seek his approval at all when she could clearly overpower him? Perhaps she is the Stranger come for him at last, playing with him like a toy for escaping his fate. His eye closes, exhaling softly as he tries to work his mind harder than it's able. Questions, questions. Too many for a tired mind. ]

Tell me, is the peaceful sleep you offer not just a death for a fool that accepts it true?

[nightbite]

[his questions makes her giggle, a soft melodic sound from her throat. her hair slides over his skin and drips like liquid to encircle his body as she begins to nudge herself lower and lower. watching the rise and fall of his chest, then his stomach. listening to the beating of his heart and rushing of blood as one listens to a shell of the sea.]

Please, death? Do not be dramatic.

[she palms her hand over his belly and gazes sweetly at his face until she isn't sweet anymore and the lips that kiss his skin turn into teeth piercing flesh. one gulp turns into two, then three and she releases him with a gasp, hand darting to cover the pin-prick wounds.]

Well done.

[more praise for a good sport. when she peers at him again, a lullaby of darkness seeps into his mind. eats away worries and bad dreams. the cotton-comfort she imagined for him, right there to be wrapped in as she wraps around him, too.]

[sapphyre]

[ He is incapable of being undramatic. In fact, he's the most serious person in the world. A flinch as her teeth sink in; the pain not so much as the thrilling jolt that it sends down his spine. Warm and arousing with a tinge of shame. His breath catches his throat and releases along with the rest of the tension in his body. Melting gently back to find the pillows once more as she takes her drink.

He shouldn't have done this, but he cannot find himself regretting it much. The peace she brings is stronger than the poppy, numbing at the dread that he's held in his chest for so long. His head tilts, eye meeting hers heavily lidded and appreciative. There's a tinge of sorrow that surfaces, unable to be drunk out and now unable to be restrained as his defenses all but fade away.]

What is your name? [ A mumble. His hands reach for her to hold her like he would a lover and feel the warmth his blood might have given her. He finds himself not wanting to wake with her gone. ]

unexpectedly weird and cute 😭

[nightbite]

[they're so malleable when she fulfills her promises. she koalas herself around him, leg slung over his limbs and hand at his chest. she feels dozy, mouth full with the delicious taste of his liquid iron, but that extended kindness was an extent. she traded him for a taste that she'll need more of sooner than usual.]

Coyo.

[whispered against skin, shifting herself just-so as he reaches to hold her to make herself extra comfortable. the prince is welcoming to a heartless creature, after all. she's decided she'll stay throughout the night if he needs the company.]

he's just a sad meow meow, your honor

[sapphyre]

[ A strange name, but they are in a strange place. She's appeared out of the dark in a way that he's still not entirely convinced that this isn't already a dream. Even though the weight of her body is real as the sting of her bite.

A warm hum rumbles in his chest to acknowledge her answer, but he's unable to hold his eye open any longer. His limbs grow heavy where they rest curled around this strange creature. Perhaps she'll devour him as he sleeps. Would he be able to fight back? ]

Will you go? [ His words are barely words, but his thoughts cannot let him be, even as the rest of him is slipping away. A part of him doesn't expect her to be there when clarity returns. He'll have more questions that she is not allowed to escape. ]

cute sad meow meow

[nightbite]

[she pets at him again, soft fingers to his warm skin. she attempts comfort as someone who has had to mimic it over and over and over again. if she does this enough times, she'll understand why he needs her. if she is kind, he'll be more open to accepting her. equations she has to make on her own since he's banned her from his mind and she respects his wishes, denies herself the cheatsheet.]

I will stay for you.

['for you' is a gift. is she being true? she thinks so. she isn't planning on sneaking away or molding herself to a shadow again any time soon, and he might be open to giving her another treat in the morning if she follows through.]

If anything should disturb us I will destroy it.

[sapphyre]

[ Destroy it, will she? What a funny little promise from someone so small. Even though he can someone sense the restraint in her bones. Something much more formidable tucked under the soft flesh of her rested against him. Even a gentle touch is perhaps more than just so, even if he cannot sense it, he is already spoiled to the knowledge she is not a mere girl.

Does he need protection? He mislikes such ideas that he should need for anyone...anything. Her company is a gift he doesn't admit to need. He needs his dragon at his side, not a creature in the shape of a girl. Could she hold herself to every word? Even if he doesn't admit to needing it, he is curious, but it is not the concern that slips from him next. ]

There is someone here who wishes to take my life. [ Ah, the source of grief mayhaps. Haunting him in these strange halls more than that servitor and its lonely cries of his mother. His brow furrows at the thought, troubled with that fact the longer it settles. ] But do not touch him...[ He doubts that his nephew lacks the honor to try and kill him in his sleep. But this seems a place for desperate men. It cannot be ruled out. ] he is mine.

[nightbite]

[meeting his request – demand? – with silence to mull his words over. she runs her fingers through his silver locks, twirls a strand around her finger absently. such prettiness, she thinks, that would be just as pretty stained with blood.]

Is there? If he is to kill you while you sleep...

[pause. so, what? is he asking for her sympathy of revenge, or to let him die should this stranger creep into his room as she creeped not minutes earlier?]

shall I let him?

[sapphyre]

[ Does she warm from his blood or is it merely his touch. As his body drifts, his fingers flex themselves again to regain awareness somewhere beneath her long veil of hair and along the blade of her shoulder. Still there. ]

No. [ She misunderstands him, but the matters of what is right and honorable have always been a stubborn thing. ] Wake me and I will deal with him myself.

[ He should not see her involved in family matters, as useful as she may be toward future causes. He should remind himself to ask her some time. All that she is capable of . ]

[nightbite]

[the only way he'll be able to tell she's laughing is the tiny shake of her shoulders. he warms her as much as she cools him. a stone only becomes hot due to nature, and aemond is all nature with an unnatural being in the space he's opened for her.]

Will you, in your state?

[is she chiding him as she squeezes his chest, cheek squishing against skin.]

That is going to be a very interesting fight. I look forward to it...if he arrives. What is his name? I am going to take a look inside of him, anyway, but I like knowing names first.

[sapphyre]

[ Too tired to lift a finger, yet still a capable monster in his own right. The kind who has burned a village, burned his brother, and capable of burning so many things more. He would burn her too, if needed be. She is nothing more than a laughing stone, warmed on his belly. Certainly when he wakes up, he'll show her. If he remembers this conversation at all. ]

Jacaerys. [ His name little more than an exhale on Aemond's breath. He wishes that bastard kin was no more than a wasted breath, even when he's certain it is not. ]

His thoughts are to be very angry, I am certain. [ Will she scour his nephew's mind and find all those ugly secrets he has barred her from? The ruthlessness of a prince, a jaded boy who was once too small and had no dragon of his own to claim. If he asked her, he's not certain she would continue to listen. ] His brother is...

[ — blood on Aemond's hands. Alas, he forgets to finish the thought. Leaving her hanging. ]

um i am 600 years late

[nightbite]

Ja-cae-rys.

[she sounds out his name to feel on her tongue. a family with names that sound much older than her, but the same age, too. angry minds never bothered her, it means pain hides in their soul, in the deepest of places that they don't want anyone to see. what kind of pain has aemond given this jacaerys, she wonders, for him to want his blood on his hands, too.]

Oh, you have not finished! Dear Aemond, [propping herself up to look at his sleepy face.] hm. You can tell me later.