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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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[ It doesn’t matter that Yennefer’s already come; she’s still enjoying herself, enjoying the view before her and the long ends of Ianthe’s hair tickling her breasts, enjoying the movement of hips that sheathe that wet heat around her fingers again and again. She could still direct this, and perhaps part of her is, but she’s giving some control back, letting Ianthe seize her own pleasure, and not choosing to deny her any kind of release this time around.
Perhaps in the future she won’t be so merciful, but that’s a thought spared for a later encounter — not now, not when the adept is already so close. She lets herself be moved, with the hand in her hair, humming a vibration against Ianthe’s clit when the other cups over her breast to knead firm, and after that there are no words between them at all — just sounds and sighs, moans and murmurs, until Ianthe finds her release.
A mess isn’t something she minds in the immediate moment, not when Ianthe topples forward, palms hitting the mattress as a brace while she undulates through those last aftershocks, and Yennefer will afford her enough time to catch her breath, eventually careful in how she slips out from between the spread of the younger woman’s knees and then gently eases her down against the bed, discreetly swiping the edge of her hand over her own shining mouth. ] I imagine we’ll both need a bath, after that.
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Yeah. But I can-
[She lazily brushed a hand against Yennefer and used a faint wave of thanergy to clean away the evidence of sex from their bodies, dissipating like dust on the wind as it instantly decayed. The sweat unfortunately remained.]
There.
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[ What may prove more telling, though, is that Yennefer doesn’t immediately move to vacate the bed either — part of her is still attempting to regain feeling in her legs, but she’s less resistant to the idea of stretching out on her side, a mirror of Ianthe’s pose as her gaze flickers over the younger woman’s features. ]
Do you always make a habit of bedding near-strangers?
[ They’re not completely unknown to each other anymore; after all, she’s had Ianthe’s magic inside her now, and there’s an inherent intimacy that comes with that, but one brow arches playfully in the wake of the question, indicating that she’s asking without any severity involved. The room itself remains quiet, at least, no sound of approaching footsteps in the hall, so she doesn’t try to make an immediate retreat. Besides, where would she go, when she’ll be better off finding food and a place to rest her head until tomorrow? ]
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Not often. Few catch my attention at the right time. Fewer still that aren't turned off by my arm or my craft.
What about yourself? I'm aware if myself enough to know I'm not really anyone's 'type'.
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[ Perhaps she does, in the most obvious sense — but that person isn’t here, and even if they were, they currently can’t stand the sight of her, so it doesn’t matter anyway. ]
I don’t make a habit of it, really, to answer your question. Usually, if I choose to fuck someone, it’s because I want to. Or perhaps they have something I want, and bedding them is just a means of getting it for myself.
[ She doesn’t pull her hand away, when Ianthe sets hers atop it; there’s another moment before she lightly interlinks their fingers. ]
You intrigued me. Your craft even moreso. And for what it’s worth, you did make me come harder than I have in recent memory.
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What can I say? I'm very good at what I do.
[She smirked, very pleased to have that admittance. Her eyes flickered down briefly to look at their fingers. It was nice to have the continual connection. She only lingered with women like this; men got markedly less post-coitus attention unless there was an investment. There was just something about women.]
I'm a necromancer, by the way. To save you from asking.
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The admittance that follows doesn’t prompt Yennefer to pull her hand away, but her fingers do still, briefly, against Ianthe’s. ]
Necromancy is forbidden, where I’m from. Not to say there aren’t mages who attempt it, so perhaps it’s not forbidden so much as… [ Her mouth twists briefly, wryly. ] Severely frowned upon.
[ But her gaze finds Ianthe’s again as she runs her fingertips along the delicate bone’s of the necromancer’s wrist. ] You seem just as competent at using your power on the living, though.
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Though there is a common misconception about necromancy. We don't control the dead; we control the energy of death. It's called thanergy. Skilled adepts like myself can shape it to do all sorts of things regarding things that are or were at one point living creatures.
phone tagging atm so apologies for any typos lmao
Where is that? [ She’s already partially lounging on her side, so she shifts to prop herself up a bit more, pillowing her head on the palm of her hand, its twin still extended out between them and lightly entangled with Ianthe’s. ] The empire. Your sphere.
[ It’s only after she utters the word that she realizes Ianthe may call it something different. ] Your… world, that is.
Me too lol
[She paused a bit, having really only learned what she was going to say within the last year and a half.]
The First House - the House of the Necrolord Prime, the God-Emperor of the Nine Houses, a myriad ago was called Earth. If that's of reference to you.
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[ But that doesn't matter — she still wants to know, to have this information for herself even if she doesn't personally have a frame of reference for a sphere so different from her own. There are some similarities, though, from what she can glean. ]
My own sphere is what's known as the Continent. Made up of kingdoms, each with their own seat of power, and with a mage that has been hand-picked for each king by the Brotherhood of Sorcerers. I served Aedirn as its mage, for several years, before...
[ She pauses, briefly, while deciding how best to sum up her decision to depart her post. ] Before I decided the Brotherhood could fuck off, more or less.
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[And eventually they needed to be disposed of, one way or another.]
What's your particular craft?
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[ It's not the first time she's harbored the thought that the Brotherhood is an obsolete organization, and hardly the ones that should determine what mages should or shouldn't do with their power. As far as Yennefer is concerned, her power belongs to her alone, and it is the knowledge of how to wield that power that she plans on imparting to Ciri — someone who could outstrip all of them, with the right guidance. ]
Portals. It was what I did the first time I wielded the magic, unknowingly. Portaled from my home straight to the school where I would eventually be taught how to master chaos.
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You used a liminal space for rapid transit? I want to hear what that passage was like - the sensations.
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Truthfully? Not always pleasant, even for the caster. It usually feels like your stomach’s about to drop out, and those who have particularly weak guts often revisit the contents of their last meal after going through one.
[ She’s portaled enough over the decades that now the sensation barely registers for her, but there’s a reason Geralt largely refuses to use a portal unless he absolutely has to, even if it would take weeks to travel the same distance that could be achieved in moments. ]
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How long do you spend in the liminal space before emerging from it? How much distance to you traverse in that time? [Her fingers tightened on Yennefer's.] Have you ever encountered the ghosts when between?
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[ There's no space in between that she's ever been made aware of, nothing that would be considered as existing in the dimension between one location and the next. ]
They might work differently, in other spheres, but you step through the portal and you've crossed as significant a distance as can be visualized. It's never wise to blindly portal, without having an idea of where you're going, but it can be done in direr circumstances. [ Such as when one is on the run from a deadly assassin, for instance. ]
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[She paused and tilted her head before wetting her lips, scootching close enough that she could press a kiss to Yennefer's shoulder.]
Fortuitous for you. They're nasty fucking assholes.
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The kiss to her shoulder, however, prompts a brief blink — surprised, but not bothered — and after a moment, Yennefer lifts her hand in order to curl fingertips behind the shell of Ianthe's ear, touch sliding through strands of hair and across the nape of her neck, to guide her head back with that loose grip. ]
I don't have a problem with attracting attention. [ She draws them closer together, breath feathering over Ianthe's mouth. ] But in the instance you're referring to, I have the sense that would be a bad idea.
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Thousands of hungry souls seeking to rend yours apart for the audacity of entering their prison... their pergatory. Their jealousy of the things we have [Ianthe let her lips brush against Yen's while she finished the sentence.] that they don't.
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Her hand drops to Ianthe’s shoulder, pressing her down flat against the bed, and Yennefer soon follows to hover over her before slowly ducking down to draw one of the younger woman’s nipples into her mouth. ]
Tell me more. What else is it about portals that fascinates you? [ She murmurs the encouragement along the slight curve of a breast, then nips her way across to perform the same lavishing treatment, tongue lashing that peak. ]
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She was practically putty in Yennefer's hand, early ending upon her back. She drew in a quick breath with wet heat engulfing her nipple, eyes falling shut and bone fingers lacing into Yennefer's hair.]
It's liminal magic. The spaces in-between and... the-the-the... large-scale energy transference therein.
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[ She's never thought of it that way, perhaps because she's been so inclined towards portals herself — it was how her penchant for chaos first manifested, and it's always been the area of magic in which she's been most capable next to her fellow sorceresses.
But based on what she can glean, it requires something different in Ianthe's sphere — not only the type of power it demands but the plane of existence it crosses through, which seems to carry certain risks. No wonder, then, that she finds herself compelled to learn more, and beyond that, has no qualms about initiating this between them again in order to secure those answers.
The sensation of bone fingers threading through her hair doesn't deter her as much as it could, not when she's currently occupied with kissing her way down the curve of a hip. ]
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More than the average necromancer can draw. Needs a boost - a conversion. Pull from storage or generate from fresh death. Heh. Considered taboo.
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[ Yennefer nips, with teeth, against the soft skin of inner thigh, perhaps not hard enough to leave a visible mark but certainly enough that it'll be felt, and the advantage of doing it this way is that she can continue to talk — continue to build up Ianthe's need all over again while maintaining the conversation from her end, at least until it becomes a bit more difficult to speak when her mouth will be otherwise occupied. ]
Or can it be any death? [ An event that occurs all the time, often without warning, would be a convenient source, she imagines, even if her own magic doesn't draw on the same energies. ]
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