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rubilykskoye mods ([personal profile] rubimods) wrote in [community profile] rubimemes2024-06-18 01:02 pm
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SUMMER TEST DRIVE MEME

⚰︎ ⍢ ⌲ ⍚ TEST DRIVE MEME:
Welcome to RUBILYKSKOYE — a dark, horror-smut game where player choices will drive a mod-run storyline about the world and its NPCs. This test drive meme provides a medley of prompts evoking the game's general tone.

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. Note: the universal test drive arrival prompt will not be repeated on the coming event log, but players are welcome to reuse the prompt.

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, D/S mechanics, public sex, aphro, death, missing persons.

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.

FAQSETTINGCALENDARRESERVESAPPLICATIONS



IN THE WOODS SOMEWHERE

The chirping of partridges in the treetops rouses you. Light barely filters through the canopy, just enough to suggest daylight. By the time it reaches the forest floor, the light has taken on a sickly green. You lie amongst the frost-covered mosses and ferns, the frozen 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. 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.

You seem to be alone. The gnarled oaks and moss suggest no sign of civilization or sentient life. Just flickers of movement from curious squirrels or brave lizards emerging from a temporary retreat from the wintry weather. With your feet under you, and you'll find the wood is filled with berry bushes and nut trees, though much of the fruit has been picked clean. The freshwater stream that runs north-south, populated by both poisonous toads and delicious crawdads, is running actively again as the weather warms back up from the recent snowstorm.

As you explore, you may run into others with stories just like yours. Some may have already formed clumsy nudist groups, others may still be processing their confusion, with no memory of how they got here. Now is a good time to overcome any hang-ups you have about modesty; it's going to be a long hike, and the weather isn't quite amenable to your lack of.

Turn your back to the darker, shadowy parts of the forest and eventually the glow of manmade lights and the curve of a dirt road may come into view. At the edge of the wood, you'll find a town surrounded by a fifty-foot wall of beige stone. The only entrance is an iron gate positioned on the southern edge. When you arrive, the gate is already open, welcoming people inside.

This quaint, historic town of five-thousand has cobbled street and signs 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 grocer — 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.

When you enter, the streets are full of people, but despite any efforts on your part to hide or make excuses, they don't seem offended by your nakedness. Even families with children don't gawk or look twice. Those determined to find proper clothing regardless will find that modern clothing stores aren't available — the closest this town has is a tailor's shop and a stand in the central marketplace selling scarves and blankets.

breaking and entering
If you intend to have your character break into someone's house or yard to steal some of their clean laundry, please review the info about game laws on the FAQ and give the mods a heads up HERE.



Fortunately, the people of the town are very generous! Anyone who ask the locals will be directed to the boarding house for both clothes and a place to stay. Accessible through an embellished iron garden gate and obscured by hanging plants, trees, and vines, beyond an overgrown yard in the residential sprawl of the town is a bright-red door, which opens to a spacious cottage of several stories. Parts of the house still bear the dust of disuse, gathered on various furnishings — bedding, sofas, curtains, wooden tables. However, it's already full of people! Anyone who's already appeared in the village just as you did today lives here. Once inside, you may notice patchwork repairs have been made, and some scorch marks still linger from a recent fire, and some furniture is still lying around in splinters.

Tonight, a few of the townspeople will help out with the new arrivals. They stock the kitchen and prepare a communal dinner of parsnips, pheasant, and squash. During dinner, they (and those outsiders who've already begun to settle) sit down at the enormous wooden dining room table and help orient the newcomers and answer their questions.

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.


writer's block?
If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try: naked hiking, acquiring clothing or other inventory items, asking questions at dinner/orientation, or staking your claim on a bedroom!



THE FESTIVAL OF SUMMERTIDE

Summer is in full swing, which means it's time to take advantage of the warm weather! Around the town, various games are being played, some sport-based and some more concerned with creativity, problem-solving, sex, or 'fun'. Each round begins with a prayer to the Duchess. Not bowing your head in prayer may get you a few stares from locals, or worse-- opponents may be extra motivated to defeat someone so disrespectful to her Grace.

Each Thursday, buildings are festooned with wreathes of wildflowers, tables are laden with food and drink, and everyone is given colored sashes to wear over their clothes. Festival goers are not allowed to enter the main events unless they wear a sash, and to get a sash they must reveal their curse marks. Those marked with the curse of Wilk receive blue sashes, Diabel get red, Skala receive green and Niez are as ever adorned with grey.



Summertide, the locals are eager to explain, is a festival about adapting to the needs of others, and accepting things as they are. What perhaps isn't explained nearly so well is the expectations placed upon festival goers. Each event has a goal to be achieved, balanced on the point of competition or participation.

Tables overflow with refreshments, especially drinks and chilled fruit to cool the summer heat. Rubeans traditionally spice their foods with aphrodisiacs, something that is so culturally normal to them that they don't feel the need to mention it.

  • An outdoor feast starts the festivities, with commanders, who are expected to give orders, and followers, who must follow the whims of commanders, whatever they decree. Who commands and who follows is decided by the curse-marked sash participants wear. But there's a twist-- every three hours, a horn blows, and the roles switch at random; commanders become followers and vice versa. Many festival-goers, now in a position of command, are eager to get petty revenge on the followers now at their mercy.


  • Fencing! For health reasons, any cut must be properly cleaned, and kept free of contaminants; for this reason, fencers are expected to compete fully naked. Otherwise, you might get some cloth in your cuts!


  • Wrestling! Wrestlers are well-oiled for the matches, making it hard to keep your grip on a slippery opponent. The winner of the match is declared when they have their opponent pinned... and at that point, the winner can do anything they like to the loser until they can get away, if they even want to.


  • A game going on throughout the town, regardless of whether someone consents to participation, is something the locals call Lock and Key. The rules are explained after you are grabbed and tied by your wrist (or ankle, whatever was available) to someone else: the locked binding tying you two together is blessed to be unbreakable until you each draw one another's blood... or find the key, stashed somewhere in the town. Good luck!


  • Anyone who refuses to play along will be ejected from the festivities, and made to run through the crowd while being whipped with thin wooden sticks.


  • Throughout all of this, some of the implementation of these games may occasionally come across as either overly cruel or overly kind. The common people of Rubilykskoye are of two minds when it comes to the treatment of newcomers: some think you are beneficent, sent to fix their problems and free them of your woes. These people, called Blackguards, will do their best to make sure your participation in the games is not marred by cheating, excessive violence, or pain. But others, called the Zlatniki, think little of the outsiders coming into their lands, and will do their best to twist their native traditions toward cruelty and vindictive unfairness when it comes to the Void-touched.

    writer's block?
    If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try participating in events, having your characters go against opponents, be drafted into the games against their will, or watching others perform!


    NIGHT OF THE HUNTSMEN

    Rumor moves through town quickly: two nights ago, a hunting party went out into the wood, and no one has seen them since. Anyone who wants to prove their worth to the community is encouraged to join the search parties going out to look for them; in Rubilykskoye, those who provide food for the community are highly prized, especially when they brave the woods to do so.

    You see, the woods aren't entirely safe. Near the town, it's nothing to be alarmed by, and of course the search parties find nothing there. They must delve deeper, and that's where you end up. At the outer edges of the forest, shadows grow long and the air grows thick. Though the sun never grows warm red-gold with sunset, the wood darkens. Birdsong is replaced by the click of mandibles and the skitter of many legs. Anyone who ventures out this way will soon find it difficult to see before them, even in the middle of the day — eventually, even the brightest magical light source or darkvision cannot stretch further than a few inches.


    Many peel off, going back to the town proper. The searchers become fewer and fewer. Maybe some of them are going back home, but maybe they're getting lost. Eventually, you walk around a large tree, and you're alone. It's just you and the Void.

    The air feels heavy, 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. Characters who push too far into the void may stop being able to move at all, and find themselves given over to insanity if they collapse, unable to draw themselves out. This is just one of many dangers.

    Monsters thrive this far out. 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 attempt to use their webbing to entangle 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.



    Those who seem lucky enough not to run afoul of the monsters here are in for a worse fate. The void can play tricks on your senses. As madness sets in and you lose all sense of direction, you may also lose control of your body — what is that steers your hands to turn against your friends? Why does it sound like your own voice whispering?

    Yet the further you go, the more convinced you become that the missing hunters are near by. You're sure you can hear them on the wind, their voices calling out between the trees. Did you just see something out of the corner of your eye? You have to find them. You have to make all this darkness worth it.

    writer's block?
    If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try fighting a monster, hallucinating your worst nightmares, and/or attacking a friend or stranger! Feel free to find the bodies of the missing hunting party-- or hallucinate that you did.


    RELEASE YOUR INNER BEAST

    Something's wrong here.

    The marks worn by all residents of Rubilykskoye aren't just cool body art, as it turns out. The town is full of rumors, whispered in shadows and over candles of a starving creature hiding in the dark corners of your chest. Feed your inner beast, they say, before it finds a way to feed itself.


    Alas, its emergence is inevitable — sooner or later, the horrible things that happen here pile up and make someone repulsed by the idea of human contact. Someone holds themselves back, bites their tongue, or simply does not believe the stories. Today, for one reason or another, that creature is coming out. Someone hasn't been keeping it sated.

    Symptoms escalate over weeks, from monstrous irritability to full-blown body horror transformation, where people physically shed their human forms and evolve into the monsters this place made them. Once a person becomes something more (or less) than human there's only one way to go back — sate the beast.

    someone else transforms
    Early one morning, alarm bells are rung. The people of Rubilykskoye are quick to explain while boarding up their windows and locking their doors: The Szymanskiy brothers have all transformed! Their inner beasts - duchozweirz, the natives call it - take the form of creeping, skeletal horrors. The beasts hunt and to kill, ripping their prey apart, but that's not all they can do.

    Those who are lucky enough to escape one of the Szymanskiy triplets will leave feeling... changed. The psychic residue these monsters give off cause the afflicted to seek out danger with reckless abandon; they will run toward the monster, into fights, and refuse safety when offered. They must be restrained in a secure location to wait for the pheromones to wear off.

    (There are other monsters lurking in every townsperson — feel free to invent your own npc monsters and scenarios!)


    you waited too long
    At first, as you hide yourself from your darker impulses, a subtle itch develops under your skin. An irritability that makes you snap at the person who bumps into you on the stairs because all those fleeting emotions that you've been repressing bubble to the surface. Every dark thought you've had about being here, all the fears of never getting home, of being surrounded by ticking time bombs, the anxiety of wondering who you might hurt or what relationships you might betray by doing what you have to do. The anger. Oh, the anger.

    Maybe you shut yourself in your room or run into the woods to hide away, but there's only so much you can do to deny the itch that grows into hunger like a spark catching and growing to wildfire. Someone comes to check on you. That knock on the door or crunch of leaves in the wood that fills you with dread at what you might do and hope that you will be sated.

    As claws and fangs and scales and spines and fur grow and your body transforms with a sickening crunch of bones and peeling of skin, so do your appetites. If you won't sate them, you'll lose yourself to your beastly impulses sooner or later, mauling friends and taking your fill. Is it better or worse if only your claws get inside of them?
    pentameters: (3)

    [personal profile] pentameters 2024-08-14 11:55 pm (UTC)(link)
    Oz sighs and sits back on his heels, prostrate on the ground. There's dirt dust on his face, on his ripped and bloody shirt. "You have precious little sense of atmosphere."
    minuteofangle: (073)

    [personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-08-14 11:58 pm (UTC)(link)
    "Maybe I'm hungover," Gabe points out. He's not but he could be. Maybe the drunken idiot act's worn out it's welcome around here, but he hasn't come up with a new one yet and he doesn't recognize either this man's voice or his shape.

    Gabe tilts his head slightly. "Maybe I'm really hungover."
    pentameters: (5)

    [personal profile] pentameters 2024-08-15 12:02 am (UTC)(link)
    "Or," Oz says, standing up. He's not wearing shoes, but he's got one sock, really more of a stocking. It's torn. At six-foot-two, he towers over his companion. "You delight in ruining the moment. To punish me, I assume?"
    minuteofangle: (035)

    [personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-08-15 12:19 am (UTC)(link)
    Why is everyone around here so goddamn tall? Gabe cycles his tech, readying himself in case he has to dodge. You never can tell with people these days. And it's been proven time and time again that you can't trust strangers, that he, personally, allows too much and of course the universe or God or what fucking ever takes advantage every damn time.

    Gabe feels his shoulders tensing and forces himself to breathe. To smile, and to keep his feet light. His weight evenly spread.

    "I do delight in ruining moments," Gabe drawls. "Though you'll have to let me know the specifics of this one: we just met."
    pentameters: (4)

    [personal profile] pentameters 2024-08-15 12:27 am (UTC)(link)
    Oz collapses forward, hands on his knees, body bent briefly in a perfect right angle. He stands up straight a moment later, his movements reminiscent of a wind-up doll. "I have walked this earth-- or another, rather-- for a very long time. Have you no entertainment for me? Discussion? Liveliness?"

    He leans in to try and whisper, but it's a stage whisper, and he doesn't lean in very much. "Is there eroticism in this dourness?"
    minuteofangle: (033)

    [personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-08-15 12:44 am (UTC)(link)
    "Personal space, my man. Eeeesh."

    This might actually be funny if he were in a better mood, or maybe just a less brittle one. Every aspect of himself feels strained now, drawn too tight over sharp angles. Gabe sighs loudly and taps his walking stick against his shoulder.

    "Man, I'm too fucking sober or this. And you'll need to be a fuckton more sexy to make this erotic, I have encountered, way too much pornography to be shocked by a monolog," he adds blandly.
    pentameters: (1)

    [personal profile] pentameters 2024-08-15 12:59 am (UTC)(link)
    Oz knocks his head forward, massages his brow. Lanky hair gets in his eyes. "Let me speak plain, then. Have you a sense of humor or a pulse? Most can manage at least one, and the world is rather boring without t'other."
    minuteofangle: (020)

    [personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-08-15 01:06 am (UTC)(link)
    "Did you miss the part about my ghastly hangover?" Gabe complains, lying like a liar. He's bitterly sober and has been for a while. There are too many people walking around who know he's dangerous now, a toll of heads and a long, heavy blade finally come due. The idiot mask will only hold around strangers and even then it won't stand for long.

    Eventually, he'll have to exist as something else. And what ever form will that take?

    "And excuse you, I'm fucking hilarious. You new around here or what?"
    pentameters: (3)

    [personal profile] pentameters 2024-08-15 01:16 am (UTC)(link)
    Oz lets his wrist hang at a straight angle from his arm, palm up. He huffs and turns his head to the side. "Excuses! Excuses. You play the stoic because you think it suits your manly temperament." He pronounces temperament with four syllables. "I remain unwooed."

    He flips his wrist back to point at himself. "New, I suppose; I would ask what you mean by that, but you would only offer gloomy portent, a hem-hawing glower. And our rogue thinks: I am better than this conversation. This man is a fool. Is that right?"
    marcas: (047)

    [personal profile] marcas 2024-08-15 01:40 am (UTC)(link)
    [ He knows better than to stand there like a statue, a doll for people to play with until they're bored, because that offends them, or scares them off, or leads them to guilt him about it. The Mineral Witches' various methods were just new ways to toy with him, though, all leading to the inevitable result.

    Swallowing hard, Noth looks down to help her reach his lips and jaw. The heartbeat betrays his anxiety, coupled with the lie that this is for the best. Eyes shut, belatedly, he tells himself that being fed on means others will be spared from the same fate. The nithing can withstand so much more than an innocent Rubean. ]
    marcas: s n (021)

    [personal profile] marcas 2024-08-15 01:46 am (UTC)(link)
    Magic.
    Essence.
    Ichor.


    [ Maybe he shouldn't be spilling Louise's trade secrets, even if it's in the vaguest way possible.

    Oh well. ]


    I think you are right.
    I wish she was here but she would not like to be stuck in one place.
    minuteofangle: (112)

    [personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-08-15 01:48 am (UTC)(link)
    "My manly temperament. Ooh." Gabe cocks his head, doglike. He taps his stick against his shoulder again, thinking. Wondering what he makes of a man like this in a place like this. "You having fun with this?"
    pentameters: (3)

    [personal profile] pentameters 2024-08-15 01:49 am (UTC)(link)
    His face twists into a smile like his mouth is being held up by an invisible hand. "What's the point otherwise?"
    minuteofangle: (038)

    [personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-08-15 02:10 am (UTC)(link)
    There it is. Something that lies underneath rearing its head. Something interesting.

    Gabe's own smile is thin. He clacks his stick against the ground just for the sound of it, for something to break the momentum of the moment.

    "What's your name, hmm?"
    pentameters: (3)

    [personal profile] pentameters 2024-08-15 02:13 am (UTC)(link)
    "Oseus Ossiferous Ozymandias." He holds out his hand. "Yours, squire?"
    minuteofangle: (002)

    [personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-08-15 02:35 am (UTC)(link)
    Shaking hands is tricky these days. Sometimes, his tech misses certain details. It took him a lot of goddamn practice to learn how to judge the distance just right, even with all his tricks. He hisses stupid things, sometimes. Obiovus things.

    Gabe's smile remains thin. He reaches out and he takes the offered hand and he shakes it gingerly, deliberately, and then pulls back.

    "You can call me Fifty. It's short for something clever."
    pentameters: (4)

    [personal profile] pentameters 2024-08-15 02:44 am (UTC)(link)
    "Then you can call me-" he considers it- "Oz. Now, Fifty, do you know your glasses are broken?"
    minuteofangle: (028)

    [personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-08-15 03:07 am (UTC)(link)
    "Oz, then."

    Gabe hums to himself, wondering what the fuck he's going with this man. Or maybe what this place will do to this strange, tall fucker who talks all grand and proud, every word in poetry. This place tries to break people, he thinks. It tries to render them into strange new shapes under someone else's command, dancing someone else's tune. On and on it goes and he is so very tired of it all, and the masks he so painstakingly rendered.

    They hang heavy now, he thinks. Those beloved masks of his.

    "I know they are," he agrees. His grin flashes teeth. "It's a fashion statement. We're all very...fashionable here, don't you think?"
    whatsinfrontofyou: (rachis)

    IN THE WOODS VILLAGE SOMEWHERE

    [personal profile] whatsinfrontofyou 2024-08-15 04:24 am (UTC)(link)
    "Astute," Vex says dryly, tugging at one sleeve and wrinkling her nose in distaste. Her own clothes might not have been been luxurious, but they were well made, they fit, and they were hers. None of which can be said about her current attire. "At least arrived recently enough to still have the bug bites from the hike in. Some of them in rather delicate places."

    She follows this with a sympathetic grimace.

    "You weren't wandering too long in the forest, were you? The trails out there aren't exactly clearly marked, even when you're lucky enough to find one."
    riffle: (pic#16563868)

    [personal profile] riffle 2024-08-15 06:04 am (UTC)(link)
    Most witches don't, I think. It causes too many problems. We like to be able to spread our wings, can't do that so much here.
    marcas: (004)

    [personal profile] marcas 2024-08-15 01:03 pm (UTC)(link)
    That is true.
    This place is very limited.
    It is harder to use magic when there is less of it.


    [ Moving on - ] You are a witch.
    Do you have a coven?
    tuitor: (• can push me closer to thee)

    corvo attano | dishonored | skala

    [personal profile] tuitor 2024-08-15 02:22 pm (UTC)(link)
    boarding house arrival;
    CW: PUBLIC NUDITY

    [ He's certainly woken up in worse ways, in worse places, than naked in a forest.

    He just rather thought the days of drunken games are over, he certainly kept his drink better than being an idiot sixteen year old of some forty years ago, now. Anyone who might have gone to the trouble to spike his drink would have likely killed him, not just knocked him out, and left him in the forest.

    Some quick teleporting finds him - just a sheet. But that would do. Some careful chatter tells him that if he goes to the boarding house, he might clothes, food, that was welcome for visitors. ]

    So there isn't anything for it. With someone's blanket he'd stolen wrapped around his otherwise bare body (apologies, and a mental note to return it after it was cleaned again), he, as if this was all perfectly normal, strolled in the door of the Boarding House.

    To find whoever looked free like this was all just perfectly normal - and apparently, from what he understood, it was. ]


    Apologies for the interruption, I was told that I might find myself some clothes here?

    Summer Festival;
    CW: Some starts have D/S themes, potential violence, potential bloodplay

    a. commander

    [ Despite his tall bearing and over all authoritative stance, when he finds in control of another, he does not disregard all manners, instead, with his new follower, he turns a kind eye, and bows his head with welcome. ]

    I saw food laid out, shall we? [ And depending on the company, he either sweeps his arm out for them to walk with him, or offers his arm directly for them to walk at his side. A respectful man of gentle manners. ]

    I should warn you, I intend to be boring and not cause any trouble. I hope that is not too disappointing. [ His voice is dry, even toned like nothing has ever bothered him, but there is on the edge, amusement. Some attempt at polite merriment. ]

    b. dance

    [ This is a far cry from the reserved court dances, more like the streets of his youth, barefoot in the sun of Serkonos. Perhaps that is what has this itch under his skin, this brightness that feels like youthful impetouness he would have sworn he buried outgrew. He is not so young as he once was to be light in his step, but what could one dance hurt?

    He casts his gaze around for someone that seems stuck playing wallflower and would rather not be - and steps up to them. His bow is courteous, and when he rises up, he offers his hand with a warm, if reserved, smile that crinkle's the crows feet in the corner of his eyes. ]


    May I have this dance?

    lock and key;
    CW: FORCED BONDAGE, POTENTIAL BLOODPLAY IN THREADS


    [ It had been one second where he was moving through the crowd, helping others along or just stopping to look next to someone else, and he even sees the person sneaking up thinking he won't notice. Which is fair, how are they to know he can see through walls? He'd rather they have no idea.

    But something distracts him for a moment, a sound, laughter, or a scream - it hardly mattered, to when he looks down and hears the telltale click of the locks clicking into place. ]


    Damn it.

    [ He knows better than to object, the people are being welcoming, but it's clearly to a point. Bad behaviour is on thin ice for the evening as the rules are joyfully explained by the miscreant who is so pleased by their plan.

    So with a grimace, he looks up to his new companion. ]
    My apologies, I had no idea they might trick people into the game.

    Text;

    Elder Man Seeking Employment, Previous Work in Service to the Crown of Empire of the Isles as Protector of the Royal Family.
    Winner of the Blade Verbana, Two Years in Serkonan Guard, Forty Years as Personal Guard thereafter.
    No References, but if you are doubtful, you may test my skills personally.
    Will Take Students in Swordplay, Brawling, and Dancing in exchange for Payment.
    Ask in Boarding House for Corvo Attano.


    [ ooc: corvo won't seek out anything sexual with people around 20 looking, he's a Dad™ after all, but feel free to seduce a daddy if you want! If you have any other questions hmu on pm or [plurk.com profile] aeneia ]
    Edited 2024-08-15 14:33 (UTC)
    opioid: (🥀 003)

    eddie dean — the dark tower.

    [personal profile] opioid 2024-08-15 02:29 pm (UTC)(link)
    001. into town.
    Things could be a lot worse.

    Sure, they could be better. He could be in a five-star hotel right now, vegging out on the bed and ordering room service. He could be in a hot tub eating caviar and drinking Dom Perignon. He could be relaxing on a yacht on Lake Garda. All of these things are true, but they're also fantasies. This is reality, and it's not so bad. He was naked for a while, stumbling through rocky and unpleasant terrain, but as soon as he got into town a nice old lady gave him a big sheet of fabric that he thinks might have come directly off her bed. He's wrapped it around himself like he's a Roman soldier, and apparently everything here is free. Really, it could be so much goddamn worse.

    He makes his way to the boarding house based on someone else's instructions, peering up at it from outside, like he has any right whatsoever to be picky. Hands on his hips, he surveys the building with curiosity – until the knot he tied in the sheet at his shoulder undoes itself, and his whole toga ensemble slides off his body and into a heap on the ground around his feet.

    "Man, that would've been slick as hell if it was on purpose."

    002. lock and key.
    "Guy thinks he's real funny, huh." Eddie yanks his wrist, jerking the arm of the person he's been cuffed to as if it's all just going to fall apart and reveal the whole thing was a hilarious and harmless prank.

    It's definitely a prank, but jury's out on 'hilarious', and 'harmless' definitely isn't in these people's vocabulary. "A real wise-guy. Well I'm not fuckin' laughin', buddy!" he hollers after the mischievous little fucker who tied them together.

    "Okay. What are we supposed to do to get out again, answer his riddles three? We should just hit 'em with the classic answers, it's probably one of them. A cloud. Time. The doctor was the mother. What else?"

    003. network.
    [ You can talk to everybody else in your head, someone told him. It's really convenient, someone told him. You just have to think really hard and it works. One lazy morning, the residents of Rubilykskoye are treated to an almost entirely tuneless rendition of the song that's been bouncing around in his brain for the last few weeks. ]

    — I say YEAH YEAH! I say YEAH YEAH! There ain't never a catch, all you got to do is snatch, do the velcro fly! —

    004. wildcard.
    go crazy go stupid etc. canonpoint is tentatively early wizard and glass but don't hold me to it!
    choicely: (pic#15495628)

    dance;

    [personal profile] choicely 2024-08-15 03:23 pm (UTC)(link)
    [ If Yennefer gives the impression of a wallflower standing at the fringes of the dance space, that's not necessarily her intention, but she may stand out a bit more next to some of the others lingering off to the side without a partner, violet eyes keenly taking in the proceedings from her position and gray sash draped across her frame. She's taken advantage of the available drinks set out, chilled and refreshing, to quench her thirst in the midst of the heat, and the place where she's standing is currently shaded with an overhang, providing some respite from the sun.

    A man she doesn't recognize approaches, and Yennefer glances up at him mid-sip, pressing her lips together to covertly lick between them as both eyebrows rise in curiosity. It's not the first time she's been approached for a dance, but most wouldn't dare it unless they know her, and yet something about the courtly bow he performs leads her to question whether he's even a Rubean — or if the Void has brought him through, too.

    There's only one way to discover her truth, she thinks to herself, and that's by asking him directly. It wouldn't be the first time she's engaged in a dance with an ulterior motive, and after a brief moment of consideration, she puts her cup down on the closest table, slipping her chilled hand into his outstretched one. ]


    Do you always make a habit of dancing with strangers?
    ghostveins: (pic#17268101)

    [personal profile] ghostveins 2024-08-15 04:46 pm (UTC)(link)
    [ whatever the reason for his compliance or the quick drumming of his heart, she doesn't pause to think about it. wishing to savor the moment, she takes her time pressing her lips over the pulse on his neck and dragging her tongue over his skin. everything about her is soft and luring and she continues to caress his cheek with her hand, sweetly soothing him because he's being so quiet.

    what he's prepared for comes only later: the brush of her sharp teeth, so brief it could have been an accident, but then, suddenly, a hard pressure against his neck and a flash of hot pain as her teeth easily puncture his skin. she seems to lose herself in the pleasure, closing her eyes and humming as she kisses the two small wounds she's bitten into him. ]
    Edited 2024-08-15 16:47 (UTC)