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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.
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"We were in the River. You'd just been snatched from the literal jaws of hell, everything was fucked and we were probably all about to die," her hands are balled tight into fists and the words pushed out through gritted teeth, but she's still here. Rooted to the spot, somehow. Struggling to tear herself away. "Or like, we did all die and ended up in sexy, naked heaven. Which makes perfect sense for me, a good girl, but you? Not so much."
She hasn't exactly said no to the drink.
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Well, he'll never say no to a chance to do it again but better. Clean slate. On hard mode, maybe, since she's already more animated than she was, which means he was right that she left a bit of herself with Harrow('s body). But he can do hard mode.
"Shit," he says with an embarrassed chuckle in his voice, "Sorry, bit of a jump, then. You didn't die, you got kicked back to your body, I revived it." And then they hung out a few months which he is just gonna tactfully skip for the moment. A dismissive wave of his hand, ready to meet her where she's at. Anger and all. What a kindly and beleaguered guy, huh? He exhales hard, cheeks blowing out. "Still figuring out how any of us wound up dumped in the forest. There's people here from pre-Rez."
He tips his head towards where drinks could happen, taking a step to see if she'll follow.
no subject
So she just stares bloody murder at him, eyes narrowed down to broken-glass slivers. Her body held taught and ready like a woman on the edge of committing unspeakable violence...or perhaps a gigantic, embarrassing tantrum. When he takes that first tentative step she huffs out a long breath, exasperated, angry, confused...but follows a half-step behind him, anyway.
"I want it known I'm only giving you the time of day right now because I have nothing better to do, and I want answers," she says, sort of impotently, "answers like, where the fuck is Harrow if I'm here, and the hell do you mean, people from pre-Rez? They'd have to be ancient beyond all reason."
no subject
"Harrowhark—" Just spent six months in a dream bubble taking his confession. "—Is here too." Picking out the most important thing, even if it means Kiriona hares off to try and find her. "She's resting right now, the forest took a toll on her."
no subject
--but then God says is here too, says took a toll, and she dials right up to one hundred all over again. Harrow is here, which is enough to make her heart stutter-start in her chest. Not a good thing or a bad thing yet, but very definitely a thing. Took a toll though? She stops dead in her tracks.
"Took a toll? What do you mean, took a toll? Where is she?"
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He looks at Kiriona's concerned face. "We can always chat later, if you want to check on her," he says understandingly. Wow, he's just so patient and kind. "I promise I mean her no harm. I never did. Gideon was only meant to help her get better." To try and force her to swallow the half-digested piece of meat that she'd forgotten was stuck in her throat. To properly synthesize her cavalier. But only because he didn't know what Kiriona was to him.
no subject
"How the hell was getting one of your treacherous attack dogs - who all kind of suck, by the way - to relentlessly fuck her up meant to help her?" she needs to anchor her mind against something, and apparently this is it. There's a twist to her voice as it cranks up in volume, and it's very much the voice of someone who's close to losing her shit. A few people are starting to look their way, something edgy in their faces. Not that she notices.
no subject
Anyway, he's going to get them drinks. For him, water with flavours in it; for her, a mug of beer and a mug of warm spiced milk. Might be harder to punch him again if she has a drink in each hand. The villager prepares them, and John looks back to Gideon.
"Harrowhark thrives under pressure. It's the remit of her genius. It was true when she was forced to run the Ninth House alone, it was true when she overcame the lyctor trials faster and with a lot less help than would have been expected, and it will likely be true in whatever circumstances we've found ourselves here.
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"Okay, so first of all, leaving a kid to take control of a whole population is a fucking dumb idea. If you'd ever seen the state of the Ninth I assure you you'd question the word thrive. More than that, though, she should never have been put in that position in the first place? Like, come on. It's messed up. And I kinda doubt she ever mentioned it considering the lengths she went to to totally reject me, but she didn't have much of a choice in how the dumb Lyctor trials ended. I totally forced her hand," it's probably becoming apparent to him by now, that once Gideon opens her mouth people tend to wish she hadn't, "Second of all, you mean the guy who routinely beat the shit out of my necromancer? Nah. Nope. I'd rather kick his ass for him. Kiiiiinda wishing I’d been named after someone else."
If he wasn't already dead. A fact she believes John is unaware of, and one that doesn't seem quite relevant to bring up right now.
no subject
Leaving aside the question of Harrow for now, since his general lack of assistance to the Ninth begins to touch on messy House politics that he'd rather avoid having to account for, and he certainly isn't going to admit that he hadn't known she was running the House alone, puppeting her parents, a necromantic prodigy. He focuses on the name.
"That's why I called you Kiriona, at first. It means Gideon, in the language my gran spoke. Thought you might like a name that wasn't a cast-off, even if he was my bestie."
no subject
Her mouth is a tight, hard line as she stares at him. She'd always liked the name Gideon. Had considered it the last thing her Mother had ever given her, one word cried out three times before her ghost had fled into the River, the last thought on her mind as she'd died being for the safety of her daughter. It turns out that had been a big fat fucking fantasy, and that her mom had been at least as much of an asswipe as her dad. It's something she isn't done processing yet, hasn't really had time to sit and dwell on. The thought that she does have a living parent and that he's trying to give her an actual name judders rudely into her brain though, forcing it back into her mind.
"...so like, it's a name you chose for me?" she says, no longer shouting. Sounding, instead, suddenly wrong-footed.
no subject
If he'd been able to name her from birth he might have gone for his grandma's name, or maybe found some maori variant on Cristabel, or — because he's a nerd at heart — named her Galadriel or some shit. But she's been Gideon for nineteen years, the least he can do is acknowledge that, find a compromise. Or that's what he'd figured six months ago, and he's glad to see she's once again taken a little off balance by it.
"Kiriona." He spells it for her. "Heir to the Nine Houses."
Not that he plans to die any time soon.
no subject
She takes a long swig from one of the mugs in her hand - more for something to do with her mouth and hands than for any other reason - lets the taste of the warm, spiced liquid fill up her senses. she tries to ground herself against it, not that it really works. Once swallowed, she huffs out a long breath, cheeks blowing out in an expression uncannily like the one God had made just a short while before.
This doesn't especially feel like a good thing. But it's a thing, and she really ought to say something.
"...In your face, Crux," is the best she can manage, for the moment.
no subject
Yeah. He knows that's a hand-me-down.
A smile to himself, just a twitch at the corner of his mouth that passes quickly.
"So listen," he says quietly. "I want to find a way to get us all home, and I'll need whatever help I can get. But until then, maybe we could keep up with each other? I'd like to be in your life, even if it means getting punched sometimes."
no subject
For right now, at least, she has no snarky comebacks, no insults. She's too taken aback to formulate coherent thoughts, trying to remember how to breathe.
"I mean, yeah? Maybe?" she fumbles out inelegantly, "you know...just so we can figure out how to get out of here. The porn clothes are fun and all, but they're not exactly cut out for swordsmanship. I'm still like, mega pissed with you, though."
Playing it super cool. Totally nailed it.
no subject
"I get it. If my dad had walked back into my life like whoops! I woulda socked him too." He's fine with her being angry, as long as they can talk. As long as he can do a better job than his own parents. Maybe, with Harrow here, she'll even come around.
no subject
If her hands were free she'd reach to scrub at the shorn-off hair at her nape, but failing that she takes another swig from a mug - the other one this time - makes a face because look, there was no beer on the Ninth. Only shitty sacramental wine that she'd once stolen and ended up puking her guts out. A crime severe enough she'd been thoroughly beaten for it. She frowns.
"Yeeeeaah, you're like, years late. Where were you when I needed a hand with some smiting?" but she shakes her head almost as soon as she says it, warding him off. He didn't even know she existed, and that's another whole barrel of worms she isn't quite feeling fit to confront, yet. Emotions are hard. "Look though, this has been...something. But I've gotta find Harrow. You know. For reasons."
Her eyes are still on him, but she takes the first tentative step away now. Hesitates, almost like she's waiting to be dismissed.
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no subject