medietas_ooc | Test Drive

Entry tags:

!test drive meme

Test Drive

Welcome to Medietas! Are you interested in joining the game? Do you have an old muse you want to dust off? Are you looking for a place to voice test a brand new character and would like to do so in our little island setting? Well, you've come to the right place!

You all know what to do but if you don’t, just follow the instructions and HAVE FUN!

How To Play:

→ Comment with the character you’d like to test drive. Don’t forget to add their name and canon in the subject line.
→ Choose a scenario, or start your own!
→ Tag around!

Possible Scenarios:

1. New Arrival: You have just arrived on the island of Medietas, in the city of Aerilon via a floating boat with people you may or may not know. Of course, you can't help wondering what the heck is going on here, or how you even got on the boat in the first place. But as soon as the vessel docks you are greeted by some lovely locals who offer you a map and a communications device before leaving you to your own. You probably have questions and there seems to be a number of people there already who may or may not have those answers. Talk to them! Or, get on the network and introduce yourself!

2. Getting Settled: So, you've arrived, but now there's five islands you should get yourself acquainted with. Meet your starter home neighbors! Start your new job! Check out the market on Aerilon. Or, attend one of the many block parties!

3. Lost!: Somehow you got yourself turned around and confused and getting back to where you want to be is looking impossible.

4. Wild Card: Got something else in mind and want to create your own scenario? Go for it!

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Nadia has, she thinks, figured out the routine of this place - at least somewhat. The boats, or whatever they are, arrive somewhat irregularly, but they always seem to do so in the second half of the month - there's no point hanging about the docks the first two weeks or so of a new month.

But in the second half, she becomes a somewhat familiar sight, dropping by a few times a week, just to see if anyone new has arrived, anyone she might recognize. She doesn't necessarily expect it, but if they do, she would like to be here when it happens - to talk to them, help them if necessary. And help anyone else who might need it, really, as the explanations offered by the locals aren't always up to par.

She's spoken with people about hoping Cullen might arrive - to the friends she's made here, anyway. She doesn't like being separated from him, not at a point when she was just promising herself that she would never have to be apart from him again. But she doesn't really expect him to show up. Not really. She's not that lucky.

So when she spots the familiar golden hair, the warm brown eyes, the strong jaw, the beloved mouth - she stops, almost forgetting to breathe for a moment. It must be a trick. She must be seeing things. That can't really be - but, it is. It's him.

As soon as the realization hits her, all thought of maintaining her cool, friendly but somewhat distant public demeanor dissolves. All politeness dissolves, and Nadia pushes her way past anyone standing nearby, anyone standing between her and him. She doesn't quite have the balance she used to, so she can't, unfortunately, run to him and throw her arms around his neck in exactly the way she wants, but she's going to do the best facsimile of it that she can.

"Cullen," she calls, her face breaking out in the happiest grin she's had since he asked her to marry him, back at the Winter Palace. The mabari may be wagging his tail and barking a greeting, but she completely ignores the poor animal in favor of nearly bowling into her husband, her arm going around his broad shoulders, completely trusting in his ability to catch her and hold her close.

After seeing Ned, there was less shock to how much her siblings had aged and how long they had lived after her. With his dark features, he bore the traces of their mother, the lingering reminders of the woman who had passed far too soon. Something that could be said for each of them. It was strange for Lyanna to see him so much older. He had been her younger brother, the boy at her heels. The pair of them forever pestering Ned and Brandon to let them join them in their games.

Now, he was the age of their father, something that had been hard for her to picture as a child. Her brothers were far ahead of her while she remained the age when last she saw them.

The cold of his body sent a shiver up her spine, his form leaner and more muscular than the boy she used to push in the mud. But he was still Benjen. His smile, his eyes, his warm heart...he was always her brother.

"It's hard to explain. This place seems to have some sort of magic about it. You noticed the floating islands and ships that could sail across the sky!" It wouldn't surprise him to know that when she arrived, she was practically leaning over the sides.

"Yes, Sansa, Arya and Jon. There are others that I didn't know. Poderick Payne, he is apparently in service to Sansa's husband, Tyrion Lannister." That earns a look of disgust. "A Tyrell girl. Rhaegar and his sister are here too."

She laughed in return. "You really are old. You're almost as old as Old Nan!"

Benjen could still remember the follies of his youth here and now. His brothers had always made it a point to try and leave Lyanna and him out of all the fun but they honestly couldn't. Wherever they went, Benjen would follow. He was the youngest pup in the pack but the second-most mischievous. He looked up to his brothers back then and even now still somewhat does. Though, Benjen honestly misses Brandon more than he could ever say. He wishes that Ned's children could've met their uncle. Brandon would've loved to all of his nieces and nephews as much as he does.

"Believe me, I noticed that this island floats." He still doesn't bloody know what to think about this island. They're so close to the sun that he swears he could touch it. "I never thought that men could fly but I must admit, I'm true believer now." Benjen says with a jovial chuckle.

"Sansa is married?" His laughter dies suddenly at that bit of news. "To Tyrion?" Now just wait a minute here! Benjen's dear niece was supposed to be married to Robert's first born, Joffery and yet Lyanna claims she married "The Imp" instead?

His brows knit together in confusion.

"Wait until you see the dragon." Lyanna said with obvious glee in her voice. "They young Targaryen princess hatched them from stone eggs. She has one with her and I've seen it flying in the sky. It's incredible." It was almost like stepping into the stories they heard as children. They played at being dragons when they were small. Lyanna had even named one of their father's hounds "Balerion." But never did she imagine seeing one flying above her.

"It is what she told me." She doesn't know very much about the state of the family from when Sansa or Benjen were taken from. She only heard snippets and had to piece together their lives from there. It seemed minuscule compared to the war everyone spoke of, the war that toppled the Mad King.

"So much seems to have happened since Ned..." she hadn't been there to witness it, but the idea still hurt her all the same. "He didn't...die? Not the way they said..." Would he know? Had he heard?

Dragon? There's an actual dragon here and a Targaryen at that?!

Benjen's face shifts from muted surprise to something akin to wonder. "But the last dragon that Westeros ever seen died thousands of years ago--" He pauses for a moment as he tries to muddle through his thoughts.

After the rebellion, House Baratheon slaughtered anyone bearing the Targaryen name. There were rumors that two children of House Targaryen escaped but Benjen made certain to keep his mouth shut in regards to that matter. He has no need for idle gossip and has even little need to hear it. Though, if this alleged princess is truly a Targaryen; she better damn well look like one.

For good or ill, the three Starks could easily spot a fake after dealing so closely with the Targaryens.

"Easy there--" He pleas with his sister. "So much seems to have happened since Ned---what?" Benjen doesn't dare fill in the blanks but it seems that he didn't have to. "Who are they? Lyanna, who told you this?" A sense of dread washes over him. "Ned is here, isn't he? He's alive, yes?"

No one told him.

"I thought the same!" She said excitedly, clutching at him in the same manner she had whenever a good ~~bad~~ idea struck her. It always resulted in them being punished by there father, but it didn't mute her enthusiasm, no matter the result. "But somehow dragons have come back!"

Given the resemblance and Rhaegar's response to Dany, it was hard to doubt the woman was anything other than what she claimed to be. It was hard to replicate those eyes and that hair. A Targaryen bore their name on their features, plain for all to see. Their beauty was close to a badge of honor, as rare and precious as a true dragon.

She shook her head, lowering her eyes. So he didn't know. It was strange to speak to someone as lost about the future as she was. Somehow, she never expected to be the one to tell him, to deliver the painful blow. "His children. They told me that Ned was killed...the Lannisters." She whispered the words, trying to shield her heart from the pain and anger that heated her blood. "He was treated little better than a dog! The Others take them!"

All this talk about dragons and Targaryens will have to wait. As of right now, Benjen is having some trouble processing the possible truth of his dear brother being dead.

The shock upon his face is clear as the day itself. It's almost as if the wind was knocked out of him by a hardy jab to the gut. He stands there in complete silence with muted terror upon his face. Benjen shakily raises his hand to his hair and brushes the long unkempt strands back. "The Lannisters." He says their name with enough venom to curse all of their line. "The Lannisters killed our brother?" He stares at Lyanna for a long time in silence before suddenly turning away.

This is a bit much. Not only did he somehow cheat death but he meets with his sister again in some magical island only to find out his brother is dead. How? Just how does any of this makes any sense?

Benjen let's out a quiet sigh. It's taking all of his willpower not to scream and curse at the heavens right now. He's so angry. He's livid. His lips fall into a grim line and his brows knit together in muted anger and pain. His breathing is harsher now and the pulse quickened a bit.

Ned is dead. His brother was killed.

The moment she saw those tell tale signs of his anger (always quiet but fierce as a wolf's), she pulls him into a tight hug. If he was hurt and fuming, let it be in the safety of her embrace, shutting out the rest of the world, save for their mutual pain. They were Starks. They could not survive alone, always meant to be in a pack. If the Lannisters declared war on their family, they would come to fear their combined fury.

It wasn't as though this was the first blow they suffered...or at least he suffered. He had likely lived through Brandon's death, their father's death. Her death. Losing the last of his family, it had to be too much for him.

Without his parents and siblings, he was the last surviving pup. It was a heavy burden to bear, one that she feared would break his strength. Perhaps it was a mercy that this world had granted them the chance to be a family again. Whatever happened in Westeros, it was a distant memory. They were reunited, as they should have been there.

"He's here now. He's safe."

Unlike his sister, Ned is down at the same time everyday. He knows when the boats shuttle in the new arrivals and he stands back far enough that once it's realised no one else from his family has come to these strange lands the elder Stark can leave without needing to talk to anyone who might see him as someone with answers.

Truthfully, it's to hide the sorrow of knowing about his wife, his oldest son and what would have been his daughter in law who had been with child. Ned would turn away out of frustration in not knowing what became of his younger sons Bran and Rickon. Whom else from his family would someday walk down the ramp of those floating boats?

Today, Ned decided to not go at that same specific time he normally went. Instead, he walked from Mundus and then through Aerilon before finding himself at the market. After awhile, he walked down to the docks knowing that the area would be mostly empty.

But not today.

When he saw his little brother it was at a distance. But, as soon as he blinked enough times and realised it was him, Ned moved quickly towards him.

"Benjen!"

Her embrace brings Benjen back to reality in a heartbeat.

It brings him out of his dark thoughts and the murderous rage that boils his blood but it also spares him for the fear that crept into his heart. Ned is the patriarch of their family now, the one who carried on their father's legacy. For Ned to be killed by one of the other noble houses not only dishonors him but their family name. Such a injustice can only be repaid in blood and Benjen is more than willing to have that debt paid for the sake of his brother. That much is certain given the murderous look that lingers in Benjen's dark gaze. He doesn't dare voice such a morbid thought especially since he knows, without asking, that Lyanna feels the same.

Benjen isn't a petty man but hearing of Ned's death makes him wish he could be one. That alone scares him a little.

He holds onto his sister like his very sanity depends upon her. It isn't until Lyanna proclaims that their brother is safe that he finally speaks. "...Good." Benjen replies in a harsh whisper.

"If I had known sooner---" Benjen would've gone home.

Edited 2016-05-31 02:56 (UTC)

She had the same look as he when he arrived and perhaps that is what drew his attention to her. Yes, so many had expressions akin to confusion and disbelief. How could this be real? Not everyone was from a place where such things existed. That much Ned had learned about the others brought here.

"I found that sitting helped." he voiced from beside her, eyeing her in a kindly manner, voice gentle and without threat. "At least until you get your legs back."

He knew his felt as if they would give out at any moment after disembarking the vessel.

"There's one here." Ned stepped aside to show a bench behind him.

"If we had the gift of foresight, a great many things would be different." Her voice soft and pained. Had she known what would happen to Westeros, she would have found a way to calm Brandon and keep him from igniting the Mad King's paranoia. Had she been aware what Robert Baratheon would do, she would have fought her father about the betrothal all together. Had she known that she would die without her lover, she would have prevented him from going to war.

Unfortunately, foresight was not a gift that the Gods readily bestowed. It was only hindsight that they were permitted.

"What happened to you?" She asked him, curious to know if he had been spared some dark fate. Starks seemed cursed of late. Yet Benjen had only been missing. There was a chance that he had survived peril.

Although he had other matters to attend to each day, Alric also carefully made some time to visit the docks, that he might keep an eye out for anyone who was not settling in easily to Medietas--or, of course, anyone familiar, but he made certain not to raise his hopes too much, in that respect. After all, it had been plenty inconsistent, for others.

That day, there was one lady present who obviously was in precisely the category he watched for, and he approached her sympathetically, his hands open and visible, with a polite, solicitous smile. He wore a sheathed sword at his hip, but showed no sign of tension or even awareness of its presence; his clothes were quite simple by the standards of nobility, practical but quite well-made.

"Pardon the intrusion, Miss, but are you quite all right...?"

It nearly slipped her notice that someone had addressed her. There had only been a ringing in her ears, the violent beating of her heart. It was the feeling of eyes upon her that drew her focus. Too many years of certain deception and betrayal, she had learned to spot those that watched her intently, if only to guard herself from possible attack.

But the face of the stranger was kindly and gentle, something that she was only used to from her children. Elizabeth stopped and stared at the seat offered, not recognizing at first the chivalric gesture made for her behalf.

When at last her mind sputtered to life, she nodded her head in thanks, collapsing onto the seat as her legs gave out. "My thanks," she whispered, her voice hoarse from emotion. "I never knew dreams could be so exhausting."

A question she couldn't answer.

How could one be all right when the entire world had been shifted and warped, when a dream seemingly took control and would not release its victim. She wanted to wake in the arms of her husband, to hear the laughter of her children as she felt the morning sun warm her skin. That would make her "all right."

But whatever this place was, it refused to release its hold on her. Dream or magic, she was trapped.

"What is this place?" She asked, her voice a whisper.

"A land called 'Medietas.' Many of us beside yourself have... arrived here in a similar manner, most unexpectedly. You are assuredly not alone in that respect, at least. But... so far as I've seen, no harm is meant to you. ...unsettling as though your sudden arrival here may be."

He paused a moment. A more ordinary conversation might be preferable to the wondrous but bewildering place and their means of appearing in it.

"...ah, please, forgive my poor manners. My name is Alric, of House Caelegart. If I may, where is it that you come from, Miss...?"

Benjen turns around slowly once he heard his name called but he needn't do so. He knows that voice anywhere. A warm smile touches his lips once he sees his brother rushing towards him. "Ned?" A laugh escapes him as he makes his way over. Despite being quite hesitant about arriving to this queer place, Benjen is actually quite grateful to see his older brother gain.

It's been several months since he last laid eyes on him and his family. Far too long.

"Ned!" Another chuckle leaves Benjen once he reaches Ned. He gives his brother a bear-like hug and pats him on the shoulder with a large silly grin upon his face. He's smiling so much that it actually hurts. "By the gods, what are you doing here? I didn't expect to find a familiar face in the crowds."

He's really glad that he did.

It seems that Cullen isn't the only newcomer puzzled by their sudden arrival here.

There's another, a man dressed in black, looking just as confused. Quietly lamenting over his lack of comprehension, Benjen at least understood the map well enough to get around. He left the docks not too long ago to venture into the City of Aerilon. There he found himself staring at markets as grand as those in King's Landing and towering buildings that seem to scrape at heaven's heels. A wanderer by nature and no less shy of adventure, Benjen strolled about almost leisurely as he returned towards the docks. There he caught the gaze of another who seemed just as perplexed as he. A man with a strange dog at his side, an ugly but charming mutt about the same size as Ghost.

A frown touches his lips as he thinks of the white direwolf. Of all the trouble to brew at Castle Black, he hadn't expected to hear of any ill news regarding his nephew, Jon. The Three-Eyed Raven told him little of what transpired there but Benjen was always good at deciphering riddles. He had hoped that Ghost would've kept Jon safe but nothing can stop this foul curse placed upon the Starks.

He gives the dog a slight smile once it noticed him. Benjen could tell that the dear creature is on guard.

"Easy there." He whispers as he approaches the pair. The dog seemed merely large from far away but up close it's massive.

Bran was finally getting used to the wheelchair. It was hard to move around alone but he was happy to have his family and Summer with him. And it was Summer who noticed the shadowy figure first. He walked up and sniffed him and then started headbutting the back of Bran's chair so it moved in Benjen's direction. Clearly, Bran had to meet this man.

"Summer likes you." Bran spoke aloud, trying to get his attention. It was hard to see his face but there was one thing he knew for certain. "You must be a Stark. And judging by your clothes, a man of the Night's Watch." He smiled. "Uncle Benjen?" He asked.

Anders might pray for a miracle, but it wasn't likely to happen. Not today. Cullen's Mabari was too attuned to potential threats, and the fact that someone was acting oddly close to his master meant that there was enough of a bark to catch Cullen's attention. He glanced at Cal, then over at... Anders?

Really? Of all the people to find here in a strange place, it had to be Anders? His hand went automatically to his side to where his sword was, but he dropped it. To say he was conflicted was an understatement. The old Cullen would have no difficult in running forward and running his sword through Anders - Maker only knows the man deserved it. But as much as he remembered Kirkwall, and the mess that was left in the way of the explosion, he also knew he'd moved on from that phase of his life. He was married to a mage. He accepted the fact that any children he had might well be mages. One of his closest friends was now a Magister in Tevinter. He wasn't the same Cullen. He stared at Anders for a moment, Cal tense beside him and growling, ready for action.

Damn dog. Thats one reason he was a cat person. Figures Cullen would have a dog. A big dog. A Mabari. Anders stared intently at the corner slab he was studying before turning around and greeting the Templar. Since he was trapped anyway.

"Ser Cullen! Lovely to see you. You should try the food stand right around the corner." Anders held up the meat on a stick he had in one hand, since Marian was quite convinced he was going to float away in a breeze one day.

Dammit. Why did it have to be Cullen? And why couldn't Hawke be here? At least then if he decided to be the brave Templar and arrest him, he'd have backup. As it was he had 2 offensive spells and he left his staff at home. Mr. Muscular over there was going to have no problem running him through. The real problem he was going to have was keeping Justice under control. If he even could.

When the minstrel (because she had no other word for him) finished, she followed the example of the others, tossing coins into his case and applauded. The tune was different than what she was used to and the guitar was far stranger than the instruments of her time, but his skills impressed her. Enough that she had spun and danced as he played.

Music had a way of enchanting her.

She giggled in response, raising her shoulders in a shrug. "I don't think you would know anything from my world, but I would like to hear more from yours."

Nadia can't help but huff a little. He's about as good at reading her as Cullen.

"They have to know how abominably rude it is, no matter how strange you look," she points out.

Benjen is just prowling around the docks once he spots a dog nearby. Upon first glance, Benjen had thought the creature to be nothing more than a mere hound but once it approached, he realized just how wrong he was. "A direwolf?" His eyes lit up in surprise as the creature sniffs him. He leans down and reaches out to it before it could turn away. That thick shaggy coat reminds him so much of Ghost minus the obvious color difference.

A smile lingers upon his lips briefly until he sees the boy. Bound to a chair with metal wheels, the boy rolls over towards him with such a tentative smile upon his face. It doesn't take Benjen long to recognize the youth but once he does, a strange sense of elation washes over him.

"Bran." He whispers as he knelt down before his nephew. "Yes, you're quite astute for someone so young. You figured me out long before I could utter an answer." Benjen takes a moment to pull back the hood of his cloak and all the dark scarves obscuring his face but once he does, Bran is rewarded with the sight of his uncle despite the slight scars upon his face and the odd chill that clings to his skin.

"You're looking well, Bran."

Arrival
She thought things might be better. Once she accepted the divorce, she..her own ladies..tried to tell her the worst was over. She'd gone to bed that night hoping to think better of things in the morning.

Yet she woke up to moving, found herself on a..ship, but ships couldn't float-they shouldn't float. For a moment, Anne thought she'd gone mad, that the strain from her failed marriage and the news of the divorce had strained her nerves to madness: her father had gone mad after all, there was fear it was catching. To compound matters, madness or not, she was still in her nightdress, in public-or so it looked like it.

Anne forced herself to move, arms wrapped around her as though to shield herself from the looks. This place..wherever it was, it wasn't England or even France or Cleves, and she couldn't think where else in her mind it would be.

She could feel the wind, the boat moving, see the boat coming to..shore? They were getting off, these strange people, and she had to move with them. Those on the docks seemed to have answers-maybe she could find a way back to England? Yet that would mean more people, and she was still half dressed.

Carefully, Anne stepped off the boat and towards the people to greet them. If she could find another lady, perhaps one amiable enough, maybe she would feel safe enough to go and find some proper clothing.

"I beg your pardon," She said, her german accent strong as a sign of nerves. She was given the package, but only looked at it long enough to know where she was to live. "But would you mind if I walk with you, I need to find this place here." She pointed to the address.

Getting started

So, she wasn't mad; that was something to be thankful for. Also to be thankful for was the lady-constable (Anne couldn't believe it, but she wasn't going to question either), who was willing to escort her to her lodgings and show her what and how things went. There were some of her gowns there, so she didn't have to worry about being indecent in this place-however strange. Though that still left the question of 'what now'?

Anne spent a quarter of an hour around her new home, before working the courage to go outside and walk around. Much as part of her wanted to remain holed up with her quarters, it was too lonely without her ladies. Maybe if she were to spend some time outside, she'll be able to make sense of this place?

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 3 of 49

Test Drive

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Oh MAN. This is gonna go so badly

Yes, yes it will

no subject

no subject

no subject

Anne of Cleves | The Tudors