Test Drive #1

[felldenmods]

Welcome to the August test drive—our first in fellden! We're so excited to have you with us.

A few things of note:

✦ Test drive threads can be considered game-canon if you choose. They're essentially in a shared dreamscape and take place between your character leaving their world, and arriving in the audience hall with their faction leader.
✦ Reserves are open and will continue to be until 11:59 PM UTC on Tuesday, August 20th; they are not necessary to apply! They're valid for the first four days of the application cycle.
✦ Applications will open at 12:01 AM UTC on the 21st, and remain open until 11:59 PM UTC on the 27th. The IC & OOC intro logs will be posted two days later.
✦ Questions? We have a FAQ that's chock full of good information! If they are test drive specific, we have a top level thread below that allows for OOC questions to be posted.
✦ The network is available to use! No matter where your character is, their compass either arrived on their person or available in the Gods Wood. Please feel free to include a network post in your top-levels! Once opened, the compass will display instructions on use, such as using voice-commands to activate it. (Apologies for missing including this on the initial test drive!)

All set?

Perfect! Welcome to Fellden.

AS THE MOON RISES. You’ll find yourself just outside the Temple doors, which will be locked if you try to open them. A little rude, keeping you out after bringing you all this way. The thing is, you can hear a lot of commotion in the distance, and smoke rising from the center of a district; you may want to check that out. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire! Except the smoke is not at all something to be concerned over. Instead, people are gathered near a large bonfire in the decorated city square, drinking and carousing, singing songs of celebration; Moon saviors have arrived! War winners! The residents of the city laugh and sing and dance in pairs throughout the square, grateful for those who have come to aid them. Their merriment doesn’t dwindle as the sun begins to set on the horizon, twin moons rising in its place. When you (and other new arrivals) are finally noticed by the revelers, do not expect to be left alone! Flower crowns will be deposited upon your heads, food and drink placed into your hands, while live musicians play loud enough for the dead to hear. You’ll be invited to dance, to drinking games, and offered food and flowers and other items of value. Some may cry when they look into your face, thanking you for becoming their champions during this long and exhaustive war. Hopefully you’re here to enjoy the festivities. Sneaking off is just fine, too, but don’t expect to be let go of quietly; the people of the Moon Temple are so happy to see you! Enjoy the celebration while it lasts long into the night.

THE SETTING STARS. Unlike the Temple, your arrival to the Court of Stars is met with a rather somber greeting, however expressions are relieved, despite any emotional guard that may be up. A gathering of knights, weary from a skirmish along the border they're returning from, pat you on the back and lead you through an open air courtyard. All the gathered people of the Emperor's Court look up from their tasks, giving the passing Otherworlders a knowing nod. There's gratitude in their eyes, but that's all the welcome you'll receive: your presence is appreciated, but growing an attachment is another heartache for those that care so deeply for their faction fellows. The silence is broken when a high-ranking member of the guard gives the proclamation: "Our heroes have arrived! Court defenders, world travelers! Help has come from the far lands to aid us in our battles for our Emperor, for all of Fellden!" From there, the few knights that have not yet departed will lead you through the Court's castle, a brief tour of the most important areas (dining hall, housing wing, guard barracks, and the throne room) is given before they instruct you to rest, because the real excitement begins when the sun falls behind the horizon. Left to drift, you can explore the castle, or venture out to the surrounding city as it prepares for the celebration the Starfolk have in store for the returned soldiers and, now, the new arrivals. You'll be invited to the party that spreads across the entire Court city, drawn into large circle dances, and will find that the locals become more at ease and welcoming the longer you spend with them.

WELCOME TO THE GODS WOOD. Between one blink and the next, your eyesight has seemingly been stolen from you. Or, perhaps it’s more likely that something is covering your eyes? Yes, that’s definitely a blindfold tied around the back of your head, although quite the mystery as to how it came to be there. You vaguely remember a wolf that may or may not have spoken to you, but the blindfold is certainly a new addition to the situation. Once removed, you’ll find yourself in the thick of the woods, with no path or directional indicators in sight. The moon is obscured by the tree line, and the stars above do nothing to light your path; seems like removing the blindfold wasn’t as helpful as you may have thought. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, it’s obvious that you are not alone in this; other people are removing their blindfolds just as you are, staring blearily into the dark of the forest with a similar lack of understanding to how they came to be here. Thankfully, you’ll find some nearby travel packs with self-lighting torches, a few rations, and your faction-provided communicator. The compass, unfortunately, remains broken, which means you’ll have to find your way out of the woods without it. Hopefully your sense of direction is passable! Whether you team up with others, or go your separate way is entirely up to you, but you must find your way out, and the fog rolling in is not going to be of any assistance. This is a Dropping, and the Gods Wood is not kind to loiterers.

DRAWN TO THE COASTLINE. Needing an escape from the hectic energy that greeted you in your faction, an empathetic bystander pointed you in the direction of a nearby transport mirror, which you either stepped into without stating a destination, or didn't give one with enough clarity for the mirror to understand. Spitting you out on the beach just outside Kyst, it doesn't seem keen to let you back the way you came; temperamental teleportation magic. As the largest trade city in all of Fellden, there is no shortage of things to do here! Shopping with what coin was hoisted upon you before your departure, mapping out the city itself to memorize the in's and out's, enjoying a drink on the house at a local tavern where you can get into a mean game of cards with some faction soldiers, or even meeting someone else that seems to have stumbled into this world just as you did. Perhaps you're more keen to the outdoors, rather than the bustle of a large city, wandering away from the city just far enough to find a stretch of pristine beach and inviting crystal clear waters of the ocean; the salty air fills your lungs while the rays of the midday sun are almost blinding against the swath of bright white sand that meets the crashing waves. Regardless of what you decide to do, or where you end up, you're in the closest thing to No Man's Land you can get; enjoy your time fraternizing with the enemy, make some new friends in this neutral land, or stick with those from your own faction to get a lay of the land.

Comments

[bestdressed]

Dorian might just agree with her, if they actually had time to sort things out. As it is, he rests a hand on his hip and arches a brow in Lightning's direction.

"Yes?" He's a little testy, as though she's just asked a question to which the answer should be eminently obvious. Which she has. "Tried and failed, clearly, so I wouldn't rely on it." He'll try again, of course. Will probably keep trying until he runs out of mana entirely. But it wouldn't be advisable to bank on his usual abilities.

Of course, she could have something against mages in general; if in Thedas, why not here? But he hopes that isn't the case. That would be incredibly tiresome.

[pauldron]

If only he knew it was entirely the other way around. Magic, to her, is a good thing. A sign of an ally, though that accent is so unfamiliar he may as well be from another world already.

Magic means l'Cie. Like her. Her eyes don't soften, but something perhaps a bit like hope glimmers in their depths when he doesn't deny it. Instead, she raises her free hand and suddenly--light.

It's not fire she calls on, but lightning. Tiny sparks dance between her fingers, leaping into the gloom only to fade away into nothingness. Whatever she'd thought she'd get out of that spell dies away as quickly and as uselessly as Dorian's attempt at fire. Her shoulders slump.

"Dammit."

So much for that plan. The magic bubbles uselessly beneath her skin, Odin so far out of reach she can't even hear him. No magic, no backup. Just the sword in her hand and the strangers all around her, and isn't that familiar? She tightens her grip on her sword, but it's not aimed at him.

"Forget it. Let's get out of here."

[bestdressed]

Dorian is bemused and more than a little relieved to see her try and fail at magic as well. For one, it gives her question better context, and for another, it's good to know that it isn't only his own sort of magic that's been effected. She's as quick as he was to come to the realization that it's not going to be any use. Practical. A good trait to have in a situation like this one.

"Let's," he agrees, and slings a pack over one shoulder. He has his staff, at least, still strapped to his back, and he knows very well how to use it for more than casting. He's hardly a stranger to traipsing through the woods, and has even done so at night, not that he'd recommend it. He's spent years of his life now traveling this way, for better or worse. He's good at celestial navigation, but the stars here are unfamiliar to him, and blocked by the canopy for the most part, besides. Unless his companion has an intuitive gift for direction, this is going to be difficult slog. Still, better to get moving than to remain where they are.

"What do you say to finding a source of water and following it?" He suggests.

[pauldron]

The only sense of navigation that Lightning has is to not get turned around and double back on her own footsteps. Useful, sure, but not entirely the help they need for this. Stolen glances at the sky reveal no stars, familiar or unfamiliar, and the tiny snatches of moonlight through thinner boughs are only good for avoiding fallen logs.

She has no idea where they are, or where they're going. The only reason this slog hasn't become untenable is because they've yet to be attacked, but she doesn't sheathe her sword as she contemplates his question. Fang would have said to follow Cocoon, but that's...obviously not an option here.

"I think it's our best shot." There's only one problem. Even in the unnatural stillness of the night, she can't hear any water. Hard to follow a river if they can't find it, and if they start wandering around they could end up going in circles. Her frown deepens.

"Let's keep going this way. If we hear any water, we head for it."

[bestdressed]

It was a good idea, in theory. A little travel proves that in effect, it's difficult to follow such a plan without its primary component. Typical. But in a forest so vast and green, there has to be a some source of water nearby, unless rain is an everyday occurrence. He dearly hopes that isn't the case.

Occasional moonlight is hardly enough to see by, especially with winding roots and thick underbrush to contend with. But the torches they've been provided with are bright enough that when he lights his, it illuminates Lightning's path as well.

"We should leave markers so we know which way we've already been." Normally he'd leave magical ones, a rune or signal that he could sense, feel, and understand. As things are, however, a snapped branch at roughly eye level will do the trick. He's seen Inquisition scouts do the same many times to mark a path.

It occurs to him then that they've yet to even exchange names. It isn't necessary, of course, to survive the night together, but Dorian dislikes long stretches of silence, and it will be easier to strike up a conversation that way. "Dorian, by the way," he introduces himself simply. "Should we become separated, I'm far more likely to respond to that than mage or some equally descriptive moniker."

[pauldron]

Snapped branches and marks in tree bark are all they have. It's going to have to do, though Lightning's distaste is evident in her deepening frown. Her fuzzily remembered dream comes back; why would that creature ask what they'd do only to dump them in the middle of nowhere like this?

None of this makes any sense. She shunts the questions aside; focus on the here and now, deal with the rest later. Stay alive.

Stay alive long enough for the pieces to fall into place, at least. The way he spits out mage between his teeth like that, coupled with his reaction to her earlier accusation, slot the beginnings of the puzzle together. Her perspective on it, at least, and the question Are you a l'Cie? gets caught in her throat. She swallows it back down.

"Lightning." Fitting, given the spell she tried to call on. "People called you mage before?"

[bestdressed]

"Naturally," Dorian murmurs, reminded of the spell she'd attempted. It's another moment before he answers her question.

"Often," he says lightly, almost dismissively. "With both inflection and intent entirely dependent upon the speaker, of course. In my homeland mages are respected, their power valued. It's rare to find anyone in a position of authority who isn't a mage." A grimace indicates that this is a circumstance he may not entirely agree with. "Further south, where I've spent the last several years, it's rather the opposite." An understatement, to put it kindly. "Though there is a common thread. No matter where you find yourself, magic is almost universally feared."

The whole matter is far more involved than that, but he isn't about to wade knee-deep into Thedosian socio-politics while they're navigating an unfamiliar forest in the middle of the night. Still, more than a little curious, he can't help but wonder, "Is it at all similar where you come from?" He assumes she'd know. She'd done magic herself.

[pauldron]

And just like that, the puzzle shatters. Not l'Cie. On Pulse, l'Cie were always respected. Using magic kept their towns and villages alive, Fang had said; being a l'Cie was a great honor. To have the duality that Dorian speaks of means it can't be Pulse, and it's certainly not Cocoon. He's not a l'Cie.

She's alone. The thought stings at her heart before she can shove it away, burying the hurt beneath a soldier's mask even as she listens, actually turning his words over in her head. The fear of magic is the same, at least, though she doubts the reason behind it is, and so when he finishes all she can do is nod.

"Where I'm from, anyone who has magic is a monster," She says plainly. It's much more complicated than that, much harder to explain, and getting into the nitty gritty of l'Cie and fal'Cie needs a stiff drink first. She turns, marking the bark of a tree to mark their passage. "The whole world wanted me dead for it. No mercy for magic users back home."

[bestdressed]

Unaware of the disappointment he's caused Lightning--and, indeed, thinking her a mage similar enough to himself that they can relate--Dorian chuckles, though it's without humor.

"That does sound familiar," he says mildly. He picks his way carefully over an overturned log, half rotted away. "It's similar in southern Thedas. They've a very dim view of magic and those capable of it, to say the least. If one shows so much as an inkling of magical potential, they're locked away for life in a dismal little mage prison--that is, if they aren't murdered as they're brought in, or killed by an angry mob first."

The conversations the two of them could have on this particular subject could get quite involved, no doubt, and likely require more than one drink. As it is, Dorian is content to let it lie without expanding too much on it, especially while they're still trying to find their way out of their current predicament.

[pauldron]

The similarities are mounting and disconcerting. l'Cie he may not be, but he gets it. Part of it, at least, and Lightning's not willing to touch that sore wound without a drink first.

And a much better location to boot. Somewhere without the near claustrophobic press of the trees; after days on the Steppe, she already misses the open air around her. At least there they could see where they were going!

About to make some witty comment about how much easier an angry mob would be to handle than this mess, Lightning suddenly stops dead in her tracks. She goes still except for throwing up one hand in a closed fist: Stop, hold position. Her eyes close, an expression of concentration clear as day on her face, and then:

"Do you hear that?"

It's quiet, barely audible beneath the rustling boughs and quiet chitter of night birds, but it's there all the same: the burbling of a stream over the rocks. It's either a large one some distance away, or a very small one not too far from their position, but it's still there.

They might get out of here tonight after all!