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Entry tags:
TEST DRIVE MEME 001
⚰︎ ⍢ ⌲ ⍚ TEST DRIVE MEME:
CONTENT WARNINGS for this game include: monsters, body horror, dub-con, non-con, religion, blood/violence, and marking/branding, loss of autonomy/self, and mental influences.
This log additionally has warnings for: nudity, spiders, waxplay, character death, and references to children in proximity to sexual situations.
✧ ✧ ✧
Welcome to RUBILYKSKOYE — a dark, horror-smut game where player choices will drive a mod-run storyline about the world and its NPCs. For the first round, this test drive serves as characters' arrival into game.
THESE THREADS CAN BE GAME CANON if both players are accepted into the game and agree to it. However, if players who'd prefer to start fresh are welcome to reuse these prompts in their own personal logs upon acceptance into the communities.
If you have QUESTIONS about the test drive prompts, please ask HERE. Questions about the game itself or the general setting should be directed to the FAQ.
FAQ ✧ SETTING ✧ CALENDAR ✧ RESERVES ✧ APPLICATIONS
This log additionally has warnings for: nudity, spiders, waxplay, character death, and references to children in proximity to sexual situations.
Welcome to RUBILYKSKOYE — a dark, horror-smut game where player choices will drive a mod-run storyline about the world and its NPCs. For the first round, this test drive serves as characters' arrival into game.
THESE THREADS CAN BE GAME CANON if both players are accepted into the game and agree to it. However, if players who'd prefer to start fresh are welcome to reuse these prompts in their own personal logs upon acceptance into the communities.
If you have QUESTIONS about the test drive prompts, please ask HERE. Questions about the game itself or the general setting should be directed to the FAQ.
AWAKENING IN PAJAK WOOD
The chirping of partridges in the treetops rouses you. Light barely filters through the canopy, just enough to suggest warmth of the sun. By the time it reaches the forest floor, the daylight has taken on a sickly green tinge. You lie amongst the mosses and ferns, the soil cold and just a little damp on your bare skin. Wherever you were before this moment, whatever you were doing or wearing, when you awaken in this forest, you find yourself naked and helpless as the day you were born.Fortunately, you seem to be alone. The birdsong continues as you sit up and get your bearings — aside from a brief wave of disoriented nausea, you seem to be no worse for wear than you last remember. Amongst gnarled oaks and moss, you see nothing around. No sign of civilization or sentient life. Movement flickers at the corner of your eye, but it's just a curious animal — brave squirrels or lizards who have come to see what stirs in their home.
Then, like the rippling of the horizon at noontime, the ash-gray soil around you undulates. Sea, not earth. Something else has come to greet you — their grey bodies blended in so easily with the floor, but as you stagger to your feet, you see them. Thousands of spiders roll like waves underfoot. They crawl towards you from the darker edge of the forest.
attack
Individuals who attack the spiders will find the small spiders are easy to kill, but the pheromones released by their corpses draw larger spiders in their place. Huge, blood-red spiders the size of hunting dogs drop from the treetops. In addition to their venomous bite, which contains a fast-acting paralytic, these creatures are clever: they will attempt to use their webbing to handicap any trespassers, binding limbs together or to trees. If you're unfortunate to become fully cocooned, you don't have long before this forest will be the last thing you see.
hunt
Any aspiring monster-hunters enterprising enough to try to follow the spiders to their nest will move eastward. This way, the forest grows darker and darker — though the sun never grows warm red-gold with sunset.
In the void, the birdsong is replaced by the click of mandibles and the skitter of many legs, but soon it is impossible to see. Even with the brightest magical light does not reach further than a few inches. The air grows heavy and thick, as if it were not air at all but some more solid mass. Almost like liquid-smoke, it presses down upon you. Slowing your movements. Soon, you cannot move at all.
Turn back while you still can — collapsing out here is dangerous. The void can play tricks on your senses. You may find yourself reliving unhappy memories or hallucinating your worst nightmares.
In the void, the birdsong is replaced by the click of mandibles and the skitter of many legs, but soon it is impossible to see. Even with the brightest magical light does not reach further than a few inches. The air grows heavy and thick, as if it were not air at all but some more solid mass. Almost like liquid-smoke, it presses down upon you. Slowing your movements. Soon, you cannot move at all.
Turn back while you still can — collapsing out here is dangerous. The void can play tricks on your senses. You may find yourself reliving unhappy memories or hallucinating your worst nightmares.
But flee the spiders westward and you will discover that the wood is well-populated with the survival resources that someone might seek — berries bushes and trees bearing stone fruits; sticks and dry leaves to aid in the building of a fire; rocks big enough to fashion into crude weapons; small animals that can be hunted or caught; hike long enough, and you might just find the freshwater stream that runs north-to-south, populated by both poisonous toads and delicious crawdads.
What's more, you may run into others with stories just like yours. Some may have already formed clumsy nudist hiking parties, others may still be naked and confused and processing how they have no memory of how they got here. They all stagger vaguely, as you do, with only the sun for a waymarker — and even that won't last long.
Now is a good time to overcome any hang-ups you have about modesty, as it's going to be a long hike. If you sneak a good look at your new companions, you may four varietals of marks on their bodies. Maybe someone will even point out that you have one, too.
EVERY DAY LIKE THE ONE BEFORE
Hike far enough — or long enough that the sun does go down — and signs of life come into view. The glow of fires and lights, the smooth curve of a stone wall. A town sits at the edge of this wood, a reward to the survivors.The fifty-foot wall of beige stone protecting the town's perimeter has only a single entrance — an iron gate positioned on the southern edge. When you arrive, the gate is already open, welcoming people into town from the winding dirt road. Attentive eyes may note that the road itself bears the mark of many wagon wheels and horse hoofs, but not cars.
guards
The guards grant entry to anyone who attempts a conversation with them. However, if your character is more likely to attempt to sneak in, overcome the guards, or attack them, please reach out HERE.
Inside the wall lies a quaint, historic town with a population around five thousand. The streets are cobbled, and their signs are lit by gas lamp. Wooden shutters protect otherwise open-air windows on the buildings, which are all under three stories with gabled roofs. A number of businesses hug the main street — a clockmaker, a cobbler, a bank — while residential homes sprawl outwards towards the wall. At the far end of the main street, visible about a mile to the north now that the trees and the enormous wall is out of the way, sits a castle with three towers.
No matter what time you pass through the gate, the streets are full of people. The climate of the bustle befits a night market or a busy friday downtown — plenty of people to ogle at your exposed body. But despite any efforts on your part to hide or make excuses, the locals don't seem offended by your nakedness. Even families with children don't gawk or look twice. In fact, the further into town you go, the more you may notice that they all wear revealing clothing that, to your sensibilities, may seem sexually suggestive. Some individuals openly expose their breasts and nipples, while some others may incidentally reveal when they turn around to tend to their errands that their dress is backless — entirely! If anything, they seem to be under the impression that you're naked to participate in the evening's events with the rest of them.
Those still determined to find proper clothing will find that modern clothing stores aren't a thing here. The closest this town has is a tailor's shop, which is closed for religious observance, and a stand in the central marketplace selling scarves and blankets.
Fortunately, the people of the town are very generous! The locals will gladly share what they have with those who ask politely — but those items are as revealing as what they're wearing. You might get a mesh bodysuit or drape outfit. Remember not to be ungracious! it's only appropriate for the occasion.
steal clothing
Anyone unwilling to ask nicely for help could break into someone's house or yard to steal some of their clean laundry. Notably, inside their homes, the people of the town also appear to own some more modest apparel. Be sure to alert us HERE if your character pursues this option.
And what is the occasion? The locals are excited and flattered by any interest in their ordinary weekly prayer: the folks dancing and selling their wares are all offering their energies to give thanks and ask for their god's patronage! The abstractions are all familiar — fertility, harvest, peace. Smalltalk makes them eager to chat and draw you into those festivities — including some ceremonial wax-dripping on the exposed parts of your body!
Anyone who chats at length with the townspeople will gather that the locals feel it's better for the newcomers to dive into the deep-end because, since you'll be settling in here, they expect you'll want to participate down the line. They seem to be under the impression that the new arrivals are a boon from their god.
In addition, many of the locals' choice of clothes reveal the same four types of marks on their bodies as the folx who were wandering out in the wood!
ROOM AND BOARD
Once you're tired out, the locals will help you find a place to stay. The boarding house is several stories tall and spacious, accessible through an embellished iron garden gate and obscured by hanging plants, trees, and vines. 
Beyond the overgrown yard is a bright red door, which opens into a spacious cottage.
The house has clearly been empty for some time — dust has gathered on various furnishings — bedding, sofas, curtains, wooden tables. According to the locals, it has remained empty since its last occupant passed away, and that's all they'll say about that!
Each floor of the house has a shared sitting room, but only the first floor has a kitchen — large enough to support feeding the entire household. Here, a few of the townspeople will help out — they stock the kitchen and help make dinner for the new arrivals.
Get a good night's rest. By the light of day, locals will help get the new arrivals set up on the coal stove with breakfast. You may notice they're dressed in a way you would almost call normal — at least, in a manner befitting 19th century Eastern Europe. As you find your way around town to get your bearings, folks are eager to help you find a place to apply your skills so you can contribute to your new home.
Beyond the overgrown yard is a bright red door, which opens into a spacious cottage. The house has clearly been empty for some time — dust has gathered on various furnishings — bedding, sofas, curtains, wooden tables. According to the locals, it has remained empty since its last occupant passed away, and that's all they'll say about that!
Each floor of the house has a shared sitting room, but only the first floor has a kitchen — large enough to support feeding the entire household. Here, a few of the townspeople will help out — they stock the kitchen and help make dinner for the new arrivals.
finding roommates
Don't spend too much time in the dining room going for seconds, though. You'll want to claim a bedroom quickly because each one only has two full-size beds, and there aren't enough spaces for everyone. The last people upstairs will need to double up to squeeze in. Roommates will not be mod-assigned; players should coordinate directly with one another to determine their living arrangements.
Get a good night's rest. By the light of day, locals will help get the new arrivals set up on the coal stove with breakfast. You may notice they're dressed in a way you would almost call normal — at least, in a manner befitting 19th century Eastern Europe. As you find your way around town to get your bearings, folks are eager to help you find a place to apply your skills so you can contribute to your new home.
aristaeus — original, wilk.
namely, finding higher ground.
with this in mind, he sets out to find the largest, sturdiest tree that he can. gripping its rough back, he begins to climb. )
and he is grateful for the altitude.
spiders spill across the ground like a malevolent tide. captivated, he observes their movements, trying to decipher their intended route. ideally, while avoiding the spiders as much as possible – even if their bites aren't enough to kill him, he doesn't doubt that they'll be inconvenient.
as he debates his options, a figure bursts from the undergrowth, catching him off-guard. )
02. ᴛᴏᴡɴ
he weaves through the crowd, catching snippets of conversation as he goes. it seems he's not the only new arrival, and the townspeople's curiosity is palpable. they exchange eager, knowing glances whenever someone unfamiliar passes.
amidst the chaos, he's approached by a girl with a taper in hand. "would you care to partake?" she asks, indicating that she wants to drip the wax on his skin.
hesitant but intrigued, aristaeus extends his hand, offering his palm. )
Sure, I'll try anything once.
03. ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀʀᴅ
02 (cw: burn injuries, let me know if i should change this uwu)
it is helping, admittedly, and it's warming her up too, which is making up for the fact that the summer night's breeze feels nigh wintry by her standards.
she recognizes that voice, though. she lifts her head. she should have sensed him sooner, really, but she'd been so overstimulated, like her head was splitting open, and it has only started to ease up since she has drugged herself with liquor to be less cognizant. but she knows that voice.
her eyes land on aristaeus and on the candle and the young woman. aristaeus, who'd betrayed her and knocked her unconscious after she'd saved his life while they'd nearly starved for days. aristaeus, who'd brought her here, to whatever fucked up edge of kossos this was.
she sets the cup aside and beelines for him, finding her resolve to weather the migraine that every flicker of candlelight aggravates. she seizes the candle from the young woman dripping it onto his hand and drives the candle flame-first into the side of his neck instead. ]
it's perfect
not the candle — although that stings like a bitch when she drives it into his neck, the heat cauterizing the wound in a way that'll mean he'll be dealing with scar tissue later — but the reception.
the girl darts back, eyes wide, wisely concluding that she wants to put some distance between herself and whatever's about to go down. )
What is it with you and marking things? ( it's said through clenched teeth, while he gets a hand around her wrist and jerking. )
I'm starting to think that you need a lesson on boundaries and consequences.
no subject
she drops the candle. ]
You don't have anything to teach me.
[ she lets him have her wrist, brings up her other fist to swing at him. her offhand's weaker, but a blow to the jaw is a blow to the jaw, and it might at least get her back the use of her other arm. ]
no subject
he shifts his weight, trying to minimize the impact. despite this, he still catches a solid hit to the jaw. the force snaps his head back, momentarily dazing him. )
Let me rephrase, ( his mouth tastes of copper, blood staining his teeth.
jerking her forward, he brings up his free arm, wrapping it tightly around her body. ) keep doing it and I'm going to start thinking you're trying to stake a claim. That's how they do it out in the backwaters, isn't it?
( pivoting his hips, he uses the leverage to unbalance her. )
no subject
while she's plotting a headbutt, he twists her off balance. her legs come out from under her, her weight sinking right into his arm. she tries to grab at him, but he's still got her wrist, so instead she just turns and bites his forearm. ]
no subject
Motherfucker! ( his expression twisting in a mixture of fury and disbelief. it's the audacity that strikes him most — he could excuse a lot, but biting is the definition of underhanded.
well, if they're playing it that way.
he curls his fingers, driving hooks into her neural pathways and tugs. ) Just so we're clear, kitten. This is your fault.
no subject
it's like someone has driven a spear through her skull, and not even done her the courtesy of leaving it there. it throbs like the hollows of untreated open wounds, but it remains sharp, splitting. she can feel it in her teeth. ]
no subject
the candle girl is nowhere in sight, but they've probably started drawing notice from the other town's folk by now. with any luck, nobody gets any bright ideas about intervening because with how frayed his temper is right now it'd be unpleasant for everyone. )
Now, have we gotten that out of our system or do I need to keep squeezing?
no subject
Betrayer. [ her voice is hoarse. the words strained, even as anger surges through them, raising the volume. ] Your grandchildren will never escape the shame of your dishonor. They will spit on your name and leave your teeth for the bachatl!
[ she spits then, too. right in his face. ]
no subject
he was going to mention that his hypothetical grandchildren can probably handle themselves, but then she spat in his eye, and ugh, it's disgusting. )
I feel like you're not taking this very seriously.
( voice dangerously even, the kind of cold anger that means he's about to start breaking things until she either calms down or collapses first. whichever comes first. )
no subject
there's nothing. nothing.
only a power welling up in her chest, determined not to let her die. she smothers it, like dumping sand on a fire. desperate not to put the people of this town at risk now that she was finally welcome somewhere.
there's no answer. she can't muster one. only the sense of pain consuming her, and all her effort going into not letting it explode out of her as it had done in the past when she had been in a position like this. ]
no subject
but, that would mean giving up an advantage. and he knows mavis well enough to know that as soon as he does that, she's going to come back at him — and he is tired, he is angry, so.
so... he ratchets up the pain several notches — a full-blown sensory bombardment that would take the knees out from a seasoned venator, much less some half-feral wilds girl with more power than sense.
he'll catch her, at least. he's not heartless, and there's already enough damage to handle without the added concern of her falling into a coma out of spite. )
cw: reference to genocide
not, perhaps, worse than chasing the smoke and screams and finding her clan decimated. but that is a different kind of pain.
she tenses first, like she is being electrocuted, and then her brain simply gives up. her body surrenders for her. everything is slack and dark and she goes limp in his arms.
in sleep, she dreams of warm skin and the prickle of facial hair. of the sting of wax and the feeling of someone else's sweat dripping onto her back. ]
no subject
not that the alcohol would've helped. )
You really do make things harder than they need to be. ( voice soft, a little regretful — but only a little.
it's easy to gather her up into his arms, her head settled against the crook of his neck. he doesn't bend to retrieve the candle, but rather turns, considering his options before choosing a direction that looks like it'll probably lead to the residential area. )
2 - town
This town was slightly nuts, and Sky was still trying to figure out how he got here. When he sees a man on the outskirts openly allowing someone to drip the wax on only his hand, it intrigues the young man. He walks up and tips his head. ]
Are you new here?
no subject
The hell kind of question is that? ( but in an affable way that suggests he's not going to take offence to the implication unless he's given reason to. meanwhile, the wax sizzles along merrily before it starts to solidify.
surprisingly, it's not actually that painful — more like a staticky tickle, really. but he's also not in a hurry to offer anything more vulnerable to the girl with the candle, at least for now. )
Maybe I'm just following the local custom, being politely obliging and all.
02 Town
Let me see what happens first to him.
[He noted how large and fit the man looked. A warrior perhaps? Definitely not one to mess with, that was for certain.]
no subject
probably.
the girl tips the candle, wax spilling onto his exposed. despite the sharp bite of pain, his hand remains steady, and his expression unfazed. around the hardening wax, the skin is already shifting from a vivid, angry red to a pale pink — healing. )
Would you look at that?
( he feigns genuine surprise, while the girl's gaze oscillates between his face and his palm, unsure of what to make of this. )
no subject
How strange.
[Ivar said softly, giving Aristaeus a long look as he tried to figure out what was going on. Was this normal for this place? Or for this man? Or was this just something else cropping up that was weird.]
no subject
the upshot is: if this is an elaborate fever dream (doubtful; he doesn't have the imagination for something like this) it's at least one where he's mostly intact. )
You can get another candle if you want. ( voice level, calm. a "there's nothing strange to see her, honest" tone that when paired with a flash of a smile seems to do the trick. ) I don't mind waiting.
no subject
[He held out his arm to see what would happen. There was a stinging sensation that was almost pleasant in the small amount of pain it caused when the melting wax dripped on him skin, slowly cooling down as it ran down his arm in rivulets. There was an expression Ivar's face which said this was something new and fascinating he'd was going through.]
no subject
aristaeus, meanwhile, picks the flakes of wax from his skin. runs the pad of his thumb over any lingering patches of pink, coaxing the healing along. )
Look at you, taking it like a pro. ( the corners of his mouth crooks, amused. )
no subject
Then his attention shifted as Ivar looked at Aristaeus sharply, trying to figure out as to whether or not he was making fun of the young Viking. This was an aspect of Ivar’s life he was very sensitive and tetchy about. Back home, most Vikings found him an easy target for ridicule. He couldn’t quite tell.]
Perhaps you’re defective then.