wellie: (Default)
Well Mod ([personal profile] wellie) wrote in [community profile] wellcome2023-10-19 04:24 pm
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4.0 Test Drive Meme

4.0 Test Drive Meme

Welcome to Well! This cycle is a little different, if you've visited us before—this TDM takes place in Well's updated setting. See the first prompt for how your characters arrive in Well. Your character arrives with only a handful of memories, clad in a mix of Old Western clothes and clothes that might fit in at a renaissance fair, and no items from home.

Anyone is free to play on the TDM, but you need an invite to apply. Feel free to use these prompts, and interact with the arrival or locations. NPCs are around, but only say a certain set of phrases. TDMs can be considered game canon.

This TDM takes place from the first week of November onward, and can happen concurrently with other events during November and December. This will be the only TDM for November, December, and January.

Applications are open October 27th until November 1st, and November 27th until December 1st. Invites are available for friends of current players.

Into the Maze
Content warnings: deadly traps, aggressive foliage, vines, potential drowning, spikes

You wake up surrounded by green. Thick, dark hedges as tall as two adult humans stretch all around you. They're thick, nigh-impenetrable. You don’t quite know who you are, but you’re pretty sure that here, right here? Is not where you want to be.

You’re at a crossing: paths stretch out between the hedges on four sides of you. Which path do you take?

The sprawling hedge maze is vast and complex, especially if you’re not even sure where you should be going. Along your way, you hear giggling, shouts, excited screaming, low murmurs, and, sometimes, the sound of radio static. You might see the faint outline of someone slipping around a corner, and hear them giggling, a long, white dress or robe following them as they move. But you never find whoever, or whatever, is making these noises.

If you follow them, you instead come across:
  • Thorny vines laying on the ground, or hidden in the hedges, that slowly wrap themselves around your ankles or your wrists, pulling you back, trying to subsume you into the hedge.
  • A dark pond stretching clear across the path, blocking your way. You can wade into it, but when you do those voices get louder, so much louder, screaming in your ears. The bottom drops away from your feet. Strange things brush your ankles, turning into hands pulling you down into the oily water. The more you panic, the more difficult it is to get to the other side. Staying calm keeps the water at about chest height.
  • Pieces of the path fallen away, down into a pit full of spiny cacti. You might not want to test this one, and instead trust yourself to jump across. It’s just short enough a gap to be scalable by most, but it sure isn’t a comfortable distance to cross. If you do fall in, boy howdy do those things hurt. You’ll need some help getting out!
  • The graveyard. There’s nothing getting in your way in the graveyard, but you may simply stumble upon it. The graves are overgrown and covered in moss. The ground is moist and springy. In the middle you may find an old mossy well filled with clear water.

Thankfully, at these obstacles, you might find another person, equally as lost as you. They may have been following the same person. Once you join forces with each other, the way out is easier to find. Not easy, but possible. If you continue to forge on on your own, the exit will never reveal itself to you.

When you do finally stumble out of the maze, you’re greeted with the site of Wellstone.

tl;dr:
  • You wake up lost in a hedge maze! You hear strange voices around you, and a figure dressed in white runs away from you.
  • You run into obstacles: spiky vines, a deadly pond, a pit full of cacti, or the graveyard. Work with another character (or not) to escape the maze!

Welcome home
Content warnings: disorientation, feelings of being lost

When you stumble your way into the run-down old town of Wellstone, the deadly peril of the maze seems to be over. It’s cold and damp, sure, but at least you’re not in danger, and you’re in luck: up a small hill beyond some gates, you can see an ornate house with golden windows, practically beaming warmth.

Staywell Manor is a grand place, with high ceilings and exposed, ornate beams, lush carpets and tapestries, beautifully upholstered furniture. A man dressed like a butler (the old hotel receptionist, for those who’ve met him) greets you with a bland smile:

“Welcome to Wellstone. We’re so glad you’re here with us! What’s the name on your reservation?”

You remember your name, and you give it to him, and he offers you a heavy brass key. No matter the number, your room does exist in the four-story manor, and is decked out with a four-poster bed, a nice settee, and a closet full of clothes that fit you like they were made for you. They’re a strange mixture, though, a mishmash of old American Western rhinestones and denim and medieval fabrics and silhouettes in bright colors. You might find a fringed tunic dyed bright red, or a pair of cowboy boots with the toes curled up like a jester’s slippers, bell-tipped and absurd. Are those pantaloons made of denim? Weird!

While the manor is lovely and inviting, and much warmer than the outdoors, it is also pretty big. Well, it must be, because you keep getting lost! It’s incredibly difficult to find your way to your room this month. You might find your way to the wrong floor, to the parlor, to someone else's room. Remember to knock!

tl;dr:
  • You're in the town of Wellstone, where it's cold, damp, and rainy.
  • Staywell Manor is warm and inviting, but hard to navigate, and you're prone to getting lost in its halls.

Warm Your Bones
Content warnings: alcohol, intoxication, accidental consumption of blood, hallucinations of demons and shadow people

The town of Wellstone has clearly seen better days and warmer seasons. Cobblestoned streets trace their way between crumbling buildings overgrown with moss and ivy. The early-fall nip in the air is enough to make your breath fog up in front of your face. Clouds hang low and sulky over the down, spitting out little bursts of rain here and there. Wind whistles between the close-crowded buildings, blowing a few leaves and the odd tumbleweed along the damp stone.

With the heavy chill in the air and fog drifting the streets at night, thick and cold enough to creep into even the warmest clothes, it’s tempting just to stay indoors.

Luckily for everyone tired of the damp, the golden light spilling from the Cactus Pad Pub beckons. Just walking inside hits you with a blast of warmth. A fire blazes at full strength in the hearth, snapping and crackling, but more than that, every single table is set resplendently with mismatched fancy china: cups, saucers, creamers, little pots of sugar, and of course, tea, steaming and hot.

It’ll be hard to resist the urge to sit down at one of these little tables, and the moment you do, you’re stuck there for at least an hour. Truly: your butt is glued to that chair. At least there's tea, and there are cards on the table with conversation starters on them. But these conversation starters are a little, ah... odd? Comment below to get a conversation starter for you and your tablemate!

May as well have some tea while you’re here, and hope that it is in fact tea. You have a one-in-three shot. The steaming liquid in that pot might be:
  • Piping hot black tea, caffeinated and bracing. Drinking it makes you energetic and exciteable and very eager to talk to your neighbors. It also makes you feel extremely fancy! Put that pinky up and use the biggest words you know to impress everyone around you.
  • Dark mulled wine, spiced with ginger and cloves. Drinking it fills you with unbridled confidence bordering on arrogance. You'll feel lordly in whatever way makes sense: condescending and snotty, benevolent and patrician, whatever you might be prone to.
  • Something… else. It’s dark, hot, and sweet, but there’s an odd metallic tang that sits strangely on your tongue. Whatever it is, it’s addictive. The more you drink, the stranger the world around you becomes: you’ll see faces in the shadows and glowing red in the eyes of your companions. Shadowy figures seem to haunt the walls of the pub, moving toward you. You’re filled with fear and paranoia but rooted to the spot.

Each of these effects lasts from half an hour to an hour, and longer if you drink more of whatever is in your respective pot. Once you're free from the table, if you sit down at another one, you'll be trapped there, too.

Feel free to ask the mods to roll for you to decide which teapot your character gets, and for a conversation starter, just for you!

tl;dr:
  • There's a fancy tea party happening in the Cactus Pad Pub. It's sort of mandatory.
  • Sitting at a table traps you at the tea party for an hour, and you'll be drinking one of three random drinks, each with different effects.
  • There are conversation starters on the tables to help you get to know your fellow tea partiers!
  • Tea makes you social and fancy, mulled wine makes you lordly and a bit drunk, and the last hot, sweet liquid tastes weird and makes you see demons.
  • Ask the mods to roll a random teapot type for you if you'd like!


weavered: (12)

[personal profile] weavered 2023-10-22 12:41 am (UTC)(link)
"Stuck?" She attempts to lift her feet off the chair and finds she too is stuck.

This isn't ideal.

"... hm." Hornet would have sat down to be more comfortable if she had realized. Why had she not realized she would be trapped?!

"I see." A pause. "Then we make the most of it."

How to do that, is the question.
darkov: (uhhhhh)

[personal profile] darkov 2023-10-22 12:46 am (UTC)(link)
"How...do we do that?"

Sorry, Hornet. He's just going to voice obvious stupid questions.
guidemyway: (I can't define)

[personal profile] guidemyway 2023-10-22 12:52 am (UTC)(link)
Oh no.

"No. Not like here, here. Or in like a double sort of way. I just heard that things might have been the best before we ended up here."
weavered: (9)

[personal profile] weavered 2023-10-22 12:53 am (UTC)(link)
Ah.

"We pass the time." She suggests. "Talk." She sighs. "Perhaps we discuss what we do know."

It would level the playing field and give them something to discuss.
hellonspectacles: (Let's negotiate)

1:

[personal profile] hellonspectacles 2023-10-22 12:54 am (UTC)(link)
The Staywell only has four floors now, which means his own room on the sixth floor should be gone, and yet, by some baffling miracle, Palamedes had found the room with the lock that fit his key. What’s more, despite the changes in decor, despite the floods and the horrors, everything is as he left it. Notebooks cover the dresser and the desk, pens have been discarded on every surface, a few dry teacups sit, abandoned long ago. Even The Necromancer’s Marriage Season lies splayed-open on the bedside table.

Still, Pal isn’t about to take it on faith that nothing has been lost. He’s collecting the notebooks that lay around the room and sorting them into piles by date and topic when the knock comes to the door. He opens it and blinks with surprise when he sees that the young man he met outside earlier that day is standing on the other side.

“…Oh! Hello again. Glad to see you made it in. Can I help you with something?”
forgeabettertomorrow: (my story is long)

[personal profile] forgeabettertomorrow 2023-10-22 01:00 am (UTC)(link)
[He's quiet. It takes a few minutes before he even finds the first words to speak.]

After...you were gone...

After you were gone I was...scared. I thought...I thought if I managed to succeed in breaking the loop it meant that you'd...that we'd never...

[He swallows the lump forming in his throat and continues on, skipping over the obvious implications.]

I...wanted to keep myself...sane. Had to believe I'd see you again so I...

[He releases her for a moment and reaches into his shirt. He grunts a bit and she'll hear a snap; twine being broken. Whatever it was, he'd tied it to himself. What he pulls out of his shirt are...a bundle of letters. Stained with grime and blood but letters nonetheless. Weeks worth.]

I wrote these. One a day...

[He holds them out to her.]

[What she'll find are all of his emotions poured out on the page. The fears he had when he had Diluc burn her remains and give her a proper funeral. The nightmare of the blood flood and the collapsing Staywell. How he'd done everything in his power to keep the building from being swept away even if it meant drowning himself.]

[The horrors of his abduction. How he was picked apart. Tested. Made to feel like the freak he always feared of being because these beings wanted to put him through his paces. Even now, his body is criss-crossed with hairline scars like a garrote mummy.]

[How he remembered his promise to his brother. To be a great hero. And how he'd ran from it all his life. Only to claw his way out of his sealed grave to find devastation and failure.]

[The last few pages aren't notebook paper. It's paper he'd desperately transmuted himself. It's uneven and looks more like patchwork leather than anything, but it was filled with remorse. How he'd broken. Taken to killing the gravedigger because she kept interfering with his work. How he'd slain his double. How he was waiting for the end of the loop any day because he thought he'd get to see her again.]

[And through it all, he never once forgot to write 'I love you' to her. Every letter it's written without fail. Even as the handwriting becomes more disjointed and broken, as the pages are stained with mud, blood, sweat, and tears, that one single flame continued to burn for her.]

[When he hands the letters over, he lifts her off of him and sets her on the bed so he can go sit in silence in the corner of the room. No doubt she'd read them and he didn't care if she read them in front of him. He just...closed his eyes and waited.]
weavered: (12)

tea for two

[personal profile] weavered 2023-10-22 01:37 am (UTC)(link)
What?

[How was it doing that? She reaches for her-- ah, she does not have anything to fight back. Instead, she's pulled over to this strange stretchy creature and she stands before it with a curious look.]

...Pirate King? [She knows not what this is, but all right, it has her intrigued with how exuberant it seems to be over the idea.

Plus this ability to stretch the way it does may come in handy.]


Tell me more.
sighsheavily: (pic#16420019)

[personal profile] sighsheavily 2023-10-22 01:43 am (UTC)(link)
[it doesn't feel good to see even the faintest bit of blood, least of all coming from his person. it feels worse when, handed these worn papers, she is set aside for him to move. she feels a chilly sting in her chest, but she dares not protest, lest she cut off some other word.

instead he just...leaves her. she feels rather sick, watching him move over there, and she wants to ask what he means by that, but...apparently 'what comes natural' is to let the words speak for themselves.

how like her; she'd laugh if she didn't want to cry. instead, she just tells herself to focus, and read.

unless he also plugs his ears, he's not safe from the sniffles and stifled sounds of weeping and little, tiny dismayed sounds. the recollection of her own imprisonment bleeds through and paints more violent pictures than the words themselves do, andmore's the guilt that there had been nothing - nothing! - she could've done to help him. console him. save him.]


Oh... [she can barely see anything as her tears blur her vision, forcing her to have to scrub at her eyes with the heel of her hand. she sniffles loudly.]

Darin. Darin... I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. [her shoulders shake and teeth click as she forces her jaw to shut to stifle herself.]
darkov: (concentrate)

[personal profile] darkov 2023-10-22 01:52 am (UTC)(link)
"Um...al-alright. Uh..."

Boy. Having to review all the things that have happened! It feels like a real trial. But he should try...

"There was...a lot of green." The hedges. "And...sharp things." Thorns. "And...water...still water." Pond.

"I don't think it was good."
sighsheavily: (pic#14667794)

[personal profile] sighsheavily 2023-10-22 02:05 am (UTC)(link)
Ah.

"...Mn."

Yes. Not good indeed.

"Well. Thank you. It's good to feel remembered. And...I am sorry. What occurred instead of the dust storm sounded like it was...utterly wretched. No oneshould have had to endure it."
diosapatemajor: (1)

[personal profile] diosapatemajor 2023-10-22 02:27 am (UTC)(link)
"Nope," she says, not even trying to sound convincing. And then, because she wasn't completely raised in a barn, "I'm, uh, I'm Gideon." And then because nun cells are worse than barns, "Do you normally come crouch ominously in graveyards until people come by to catch you? What are you doing?"
hellonspectacles: (his eyes were a perfectly lambent grey)

[personal profile] hellonspectacles 2023-10-22 02:45 am (UTC)(link)
Something has been tugging at the back of Palamedes’ mind since the girl first spoke to him, and he’d been wary of exploring it, for fear of landing himself with a migraine—or worse. But now, watching her in silence, he lets himself follow the thread of his thoughts. It’s her voice, he realizes, and something about her stance, her height. He doesn’t remember her, exactly, but he remembers watching the memory of her from a distance.

I owe you one, she’d said, swathed in black with a smaller figure slung over her shoulder.

He did that for free, Camilla had answered without missing a beat.


Pal doesn’t say any of that, though. After the last month of mayhem, he has learned to be cautious. If she isn't going to be entirely forthcoming with him, then he will return the favor. Instead, he stares at her with his intense grey eyes for a long moment, and then he huffs a laugh. “I suppose I do spend a lot of time crouched ominously in graveyards,” he concedes. “But as it happens, I’ve been checking to see if anything has changed. As remarkable as it sounds, much of our environment has transformed overnight, you see. This used to be a desert.”
diosapatemajor: (Default)

[personal profile] diosapatemajor 2023-10-22 03:11 am (UTC)(link)
"Ooookay," she says. She's seen drawings of deserts. They're on the same page.

She glances down and takes a step back from being directly over the grave. "And what's skulking around with tombstones got to do with figuring out that things have gone from sandy to green?"
hellonspectacles: (The greatest necromancer of a generation)

[personal profile] hellonspectacles 2023-10-22 03:26 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, good. Gideon seems to have understood that. Or, at the very least, she isn’t whatthefuck-ing at him anymore.

“I wanted to see if anything else had changed beside the foliage,” he says with a gesture that encompasses the cemetery. “If the materials that the gravestones were made of had changed, or their age. Or,” and this bit is a little more difficult to explain, but if Gideon really is from his world, perhaps she will know what he means, “if the energy had changed. The balance of what I’ve been calling thanergy and thalergy.”
diosapatemajor: (1)

[personal profile] diosapatemajor 2023-10-22 03:35 am (UTC)(link)
Gideon, whose entire knowledge of the world revolves around a memory of the contents of a series of dirty magazines about a Second House rah-rah-the-empire! necromancer falling in love with a Fifth House nerd cavalier (both of whose jackets are fantastically low cut), has a revelation.

Her entire face changes, and she's hitting herself for not having seen it earlier. Gideon jumps back away from the edges of the graveyard so fast it's as if the ground burnt her.

"Fuck," she breathes. "You're a fucking necro."
Edited 2023-10-22 03:45 (UTC)
hellonspectacles: (Default)

[personal profile] hellonspectacles 2023-10-22 03:55 am (UTC)(link)
This response causes Palamedes Sextus, genius though he might be, to make a series of wildly incorrect assumptions.

The trouble is, he knows there are places in his world where being a necromancer could be a very dangerous thing indeed. Hell, he remembers living in one of those places, where he had existed between life and death, between the Houses he had rejected, and the refugees and terrorists that would kill him and Cam if they knew what he really was.

It was really only a matter of time before someone with the perspective of the people of New Rho appeared in Wellstone. Pal takes a slow step back and holds his hands out in a universal sign of surrender. “I am, yes. But I swear, I mean you no harm. There are people here, people who aren’t necromancers, who will vouch for that, if you tell them my name.”
cultivable: (pic#16505310)

suletta mercury | mobile suit gundam: witch from mercury

[personal profile] cultivable 2023-10-22 04:20 am (UTC)(link)
welcome home

[ although you're no longer in the hedge maze, one might catch a woman in white out of the corner of their eye as they make their way through the manor. a constant mantra of "way out, way out, way out" echoes off the hardwood floors and it only gets louder as you continue traversing the halls. almost like she's right behind you. no, in front of you. to your right? it's hard to say.

"way out, way out, way out, WAUGH!"

as you round the corner, the mysterious woman is revealed to be suletta, struggling to hold on to an expensive looking vase taller than her. uh oh.
]

No, no, no, please don't--eh? [ suletta looks up, noticing you, and yelps in surprise. ] I'm so sorry, nice staff person, I didn't mean to...! [ the vase slips another inch closer to the floor, eliciting another shout. the situation ain't looking good, chief. ]

warm your bones

[ the cactus pad comes as a relief now that suletta's got her bearings. it's got everything needed to ward off the effects of a damp fall day: food, warmth, and (most importantly) people.

a lot of people. way more people than she's comfortable with, actually. she edges toward the door she just entered, determined to come back when it's less busy, but finds herself face-to-face with an employee who asks if she'll have a table for two.
]

Ah, no, I was just-- [ wow, sure sounds like she said table for two! they shepard her toward a cozy-looking spot by the fire and whisks away to bring over two cups, a delightful green teapot topped with a little porcelain frog, and another guest they practically shove into the opposite chair before disappearing.

suletta stares at the retreating figure of the employee and then at their new tablemate. oh, no. what does she do now? people in comics always start conversations with strangers with a joke or fun observation before becoming best friends. they never feel like sinking into the floor or hiding in a corner of the room.

but she can do this. move forward, gain two. her voice is a touch too loud when she sputters,
] I guess this is where we're sitting. We didn't even get sugar.... Do you, uh, want me to pour some tea for you?

wildcard

[ want a custom starter or have questions? no prob. DM this journal and we can talk it out. happy to do prose or brackets. ]
diosapatemajor: (Default)

[personal profile] diosapatemajor 2023-10-22 04:46 am (UTC)(link)
Unfortunately, most of Gideon's knowledge of necromancy is focused on comic appropriate massively unrealistic displays of power against God's enemies, or similarly inappropriate super gross unmentionables. So he's lost her again, and Gideon looks at him like he's grown a second head.

"What are you going to do? Send a skeleton after your friends if they don't give me some answer you swore some oath of do no bad bones?" She adjusts her cape, suddenly feeling awkward. "Don't make it weird. I just wasn't expecting to find a necromancer in the..." Okay, she's not going to finish that one, because this is exactly where she should have expected to find a necromancer. "Yeah. Maybe this one's on me."
Edited 2023-10-22 05:09 (UTC)
necrolord: == (all that's left)

cw: gross blood magic

[personal profile] necrolord 2023-10-22 05:03 am (UTC)(link)
He scoots the blood-tea away from him with a huff of relief. She's just saving herself from a very goopy lesson in purification, but, you know, it's the thought that counts.

"Thanks." He empties his cupful back into the pot, frowns at the residue, taps the edge of the cup with his thumbnail— it makes a little tink tink tink sound— and the rest just sort of schlorps together into one big droplet. This he also deposits back in the cup. Then he pours himself some tea as though nothing weird just happened.

"Hey, you've been at it longer than me. Your speculation is more than I've got."
sighsheavily: (pic#14667794)

[personal profile] sighsheavily 2023-10-22 02:02 pm (UTC)(link)
It's unpleasant, but...she's glad to see it. Some sign of the powers he exudes out side of making a parade of grotesque skeletons...some show that he, too, doesn't want to be tainted by the wretched nonsense that had led them this far.

She can appreciate that in her way.

Her eyes drop to her own cup, scooting it closer by the saucer, falling into thought for a moment.

"We were waiting for the reset," she murmurs, "to see what was behind that door below the Staywell. Being cautious as to not break the foundations, or cause some new calamity we weren't ready for...

"But this change is so dramatic, so...unlike what came before. It can't be a loop. I'm convinced now. Just as we're evolving when we endure these trials, as we regain what we were before them...this place is, too. I don't know why. But I'll find out." She nods slightly, curling her fingers around the cup's handle.
takenalive: (Default)

[personal profile] takenalive 2023-10-22 03:08 pm (UTC)(link)
[The vibes continue! There's a sense of complexity to them, like listening to music sung in a language you don't understand. Definitely some arrogance in there with the general optimism.]

<My name is Alloran. It's not the eyes.> [Alloran's main eyes are enormous, decidedly larger than human, with dark eyelids and long lashes. The bright green of them makes his horizontal bar-shaped pupils stand out more. His stalk eyes are round-pupiled and not as big, but they are... well... stalk eyes, swiveling about independently of each other.] <It's everything. You're just similar enough to an Andalite to make it peculiar. And I've noticed I understand what you're saying without even needing my translator.>

['Peculiar'. He's being polite. The human nose is the ugliest possible feature and it's so central on their heads.]
faeriegold: (more than nine lifetimes)

maze

[personal profile] faeriegold 2023-10-22 03:22 pm (UTC)(link)
Are you... oh.

[A small golden flying shape has swooped overhead as Hornet touches the water and now hovers, keeping a certain distance. She doesn't like either being grabbed at or submerged in water, thanks.

Vögelein is human-shaped and wearing a blue dress, but her 'skin' is jointed golden metal and she has four flashing wings keeping her aloft with a flittering sound. There's a tiny key around her neck.]


What are you?
vibing: (neutral | annoyed | back)

[personal profile] vibing 2023-10-22 04:37 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He doesn't have very much on him, and grimaces trying to think about what of what he has they could use to mark their path. ]

I dunno. I-- [ He looks up at the sky, but it's so cloudy that the sun can't really guide them either. He grumbles under his breath, annoyed at the situation.

The thing is, he feels that he does need to protect her. He needs to find a way out of here.

So, he shrugs off his jacket and pulls his knife from his boot, cutting off some of the fringe.
]

There. We'll drop this as we go, so if we're back here we'll know.
vibing: (huh | soft | look | what)

[personal profile] vibing 2023-10-22 04:39 pm (UTC)(link)
He raises his eyebrows, looking more closely at his tunic. "Do I? Eesh. And here I thought getting dressed is one of the few skills I couldn't lose."
sighsheavily: (pic#16416823)

[personal profile] sighsheavily 2023-10-22 04:42 pm (UTC)(link)
She can't help but smile, and it feels good to be able to.

"If it's any consolation, learning to lace a corset took me a bit of time, myself."

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