medietas_ooc | Test Drive

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!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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Whistling softly to himself, Cricket came upon Dorian and his garden. He hesitated on the edges of it watching Dorian in the garden. It's sort of relaxing in a way. A small spirit, about the size of a humming bird of indistinct shape, flickered around Taliesin and then darted over to check Dorian out.

What he could be muttering to himself was slightly muted as there was no one really around to speak to. His hands remained busy, pushing and pulling at the soil, taking up the roots of weeds and placing them aside in a small basket to the side. Even though it was the evening, it was warm, and the small lights illuminated just enough to see what he was doing. Already focused enough, Dorian exhaled heavily and leaned both of his palms onto the dirt, looking down. He felt sick, the ordeal made little sense, even though he had been here for awhile and there were familiar faces it only smoothed the wound of confusion just in a minor manner.

"What have you been doing with you're life recently, Dorian?" The sarcastic, accented voice murmured as he shoved the dirt downward, pulling it out sharply and reaching for a plant of mint. "Oh you know, a bit of gardening between world shifts--" And then he paused when he saw the flickering out of the corner of his eye, noting the movement and pausing quietly, his mouth shutting and looking towards the small shape, blinking several times. There were strange things to see within his home land, but this was new and akin to some of the creatures he could summon with his own skill in necromancy.

"I'm either seeing things or you're here to tell me, how much space should I leave between the mint and the black cohosh."

Listening to him, Cricket had to smile, but he hid it behind his hand. However a laugh escaped him when the spirit flickered between the mint and a short distance several times before bobbing rapidly. Clearly it understood him enough to give its opinion on the matter.

Pushing himself off a tree he walked into the light, making himself visible.

"You're not seeing things," he said in a light Welsh accent. "Or at least, you are actually seeing things. Aisling actually there.

The creature moved between the two spots where the plats where resting and Dorian gave few nods of approval, that was until he heard the sound of laughter and squinted at the tiny beast before looking over his shoulder at the man who approached him. Ah, someone sneaking around him, well that was rare, normally people learned to avoid him until more recently. Without his past and his peoples history for the world to see here, it was easier but this man was in his garden, even though he left the gate unhinged. Fine, it was likely his own fault.

Dusting his hands off a few times he stood up from where he was kneeling and turned around to fully face the man, humming quietly and giving a small smirk. "How sneaky of you, spying on men gardening." A small, playful roll of his eyes and he canted his hip slightly, crossing his arms across his chest. His entire tone was sarcastic, not aiming to insult but simply enjoy.

"It's name is Aisling? How quaint, I like it. It has a noble tone to it and might I add your little friend is far more helpful in their advice then laughing in the darkness."

"I didn't mean to spy," Cricket said, giving a slight almost courtly bow. People liked it when he did that. "I was just watching and didn't want to bother you. You were quite intent."

Aisling up and down some more, clearly agreeing with Dorian.

"Traitor," he tossed half-heartedly at the spirit. "Yes, it's name is Aisling. It's a spirit spirit."

The other bowing towards him, well that's familiar at least. It sends a warm surge down his spine though at the familiar nature of it though and Dorian can't help but sigh, bowing his head in return, out of curiosity as was the custom. Still, the man said he meant no harm and he was attractive so what could he say, it's not like he enjoyed being on his own in the first place since he was a highly social creature. Silence was meant for researching and speaking to someone, not of his world, took his mind off the situation at hand so his smirk melded into a small smile.

"I see, well then I suppose I can't be too annoyed can't I?" The mage murmured as he looked over the spirit, his smile turning into a grin. "Curious, nothing like the spirits I've seen, though a very kind and pretty spirit at that I must say. I would say it's nice to meet you both but I only have one name and not the other."

An playful exhale.

"Shame."

Cricket would be flattered or amused to know that one of the reasons why he might not be a threat was because of his looks. Not sure which. Possibly both.

"Never startle a man with a sharp object, is a lesson I learned a long time ago," he said agreeably. Holding up his hand for Aisling, his sleeve fell back showing a swirling silver tattoo on his forearm. The spirit darted to him and landed lightly on his palm. "I think they're unique to where I come from. We've been ... companions... since I was twelve."

He's not really sure exactly what they are. He wouldn't say servant because spirits weren't really servants. Aisling came and went as it pleased, though it would come when he called for it and help him - as per their bargain.

"As for names... I usually go by Cricket." It was his stage name.

While he is prone to flirting, his guard is not easily let down and even if the man did have his looks, that didn't mean Dorian wasn't silently armed; after all, being a mage had it's perks and a staff was not always needed to perform. He had no worries about his safety, he was too proud in his skillet to think he wouldn't go down without a fight and what would a man with a spirit as a friend want with his garden anyway, it had only just started, it wasn't worth much. All humour aside though, he looked the other over and watched as Aisling land lightly on his palm, noting the curve of the silver tattoo and humming quietly.

"I don't think it's the sharp object you have to worry about." The mage murmured before turning back to the man, looking down at what he had left to complete that evening, before the sun rose. What was a sleep schedule anyway. Looking over his shoulder after he picked down to pick up one the plants, he smirked. "Well your friend is beautiful and your name is unique I'll give you that. Is there a reason why you have been named after a bug or does it run in the family?"

The only thing Cricket is armed with is his voice. He's a bard not a warrior. While some bards can be warriors, he's not one. Mostly he's happy with his life of not having horrible things happen to him unless a particular friend is visiting. But said friend is that friend who shows up every so often and the next thing you know you're in jail for some reason. Though, in Cricket's case jail would be nice.

"No? What sort of object should I be worried about," he asked, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Actually, Cricket's my stage name. My parents saddled me with Taliesin. And I don't believe I've gotten your name yet."

While the other stands there and speaks to him, spirit in hand, Dorian holds the mint plant in his hands, listening. It would be rude to get back to work while the other was there, new company and all but he does take the move to set the item back on the ground aside the others, aligning it properly before turning back and dusting his hands off once more, looking to his fingernails and frowning slightly at the grit under them. Something that would have to be dealt with but still, there was time for it later, he at least had an excuse.

"But you prefer Cricket, yes?" There was an amusement in his voice as he dropped his hand once more to his side, both hands down he offers his own ever so slight bow, if introductions where in order of course, he would not be so rude as to not uphold his own expectations of others, even if unexpected. "Dorian Pavus, the pleasure is mine Cricket and of course, Aisling. I suppose you're lucky to have a friend like your spirit friend here, I bet they take care of you while you're performing?"

Hand washing is fairly easy to accomplish at least. Cricket wouldn't mind if Dorian went back to work, often times he would fiddle with a guitar if he had one. In fact lately his fingers feel a bit itchy and restless without one to hold onto. It could just be this place how different it was.

"I've gotten used to Cricket; nowadays only my family and a few close friends call me Taliesin or Tal." He shrugged a little and gently tossed the spirit up into the air so it could zip around and hide in his hair. "A pleasure as well, on my end."

Looking up even though he couldn't see the spirit, Cricket said, "Well, we did make an agreement for such a thing."

Humming quietly, he watched the spirit move into the dark locks of the other mans hair, arching an eyebrow before offering a smile. An agreement with a spirit, sometimes a dangerous thing, but it seemed to work out for him thus far so who was Dorian to judge; of course he always judged, but so far it seemed the small creature didn't mean much harm, they had after all assisted him with his gardening thus far, so maybe he would have to borrow them both to continue in the near future.

"So, you made an agreement with a spirit. What do they get out of it? Certainly I hope more than a nest in your hair." Dorian looked the other up and down pointedly before turning back to his garden, dropping back down to his knees and making sure his body was turned halfway towards Cricket, so they could at least continue the conversation without his back turned to him. Productivity at it's finest. Exhaling, he took up the mint plant and dislodged it from it's previous housing with a gentle shake of the stem before pulling it out.

"How do you fancy getting a little dirty? You don't seem like the type that would mind."

It's always a dangerous thing, but with smaller spirits like this one not as dangerous as if making a bargain with larger ones. Perhaps if Cricket had known what sort of life would happen to him when he first made his bargain he might not of. But more than likely he would have. It was - for the most part - a good life.

Beyond the occasional... incident.

"Music, in Aisling's case. At least that's what I believe, though sometimes I do wonder." He wonders because well, spirits aren't always what they seem to be after all.

If the spirit had any response, he didn't get any nor did he ever get any.

"And no, I don't mind getting a little bit dirty. Besides your mint and black cohosh, what do you need help with?" he said with a slight laugh and taking that as an invitation to come closer, having hung back a little since he had sort of invaded the man's plot of land.

Danger was always an element of excitement, an element of fun to the mundane life. Dorian never seemed to mind a bit of it, but with his background in necromancy he handles spirits very carefully knowing fully well what powers they possess. Still, it was the mans choice and if he was able to take on the creature so easily he figured there was no issue to concern himself with. It was an individual choice and quietly he hummed in amusement at the others manner in which he bartered for. So the creature liked music, who didn't, he could understand the allure depending on the type that was being played.

"I can guess you'll never receive an answer, they don't seem to be a conversationalist in the least. It's your choice to barter though and I leave that in your more than likely capable hands. It must be pretty good music though, to sway a spirit." Dorian murmured as he pushed back his sleeves a little more from his robes, rolling them up even though they were already dirtied. Moving to the side so the other could sit down next to him, he sat on his legs, kneeling and looked around with a small huff of breath, pointing to each plant as he named it. "Milk thistle to treat poising, ginseng for immunity, comfrey takes care of burns, sage is good for infections, lemon balm if you get a nasty bite from a Cricket--"

There was a small smirk.

"--pot marigold helps with the eyes, and if you need me to explain aloe vera you're hopeless."

Edited 2016-07-01 19:49 (UTC)

This particular spirit isn't one of the dead, instead it's a spirit of ... the spirit and magic. Perhaps more in the line of fairies than anything else, but not quite there. Which is just as dangerous but a different sort of danger than necromancy. Even little ones.

Absently he hummed a harmony when Dorian hummed, almost out of habit.

"No, the little ones aren't that great of a conversationalist. And the one person I know who really knows spirits is completely unhelpful in the matter," he said, sitting down next to Dorian, not at all worried about the state of his clothes. His jeans were well worn and long used to hard use.

A snort at the cricket comment. "I've not met many crickets that bite besides myself." That was followed by a bit of a smirk. "And those are familiar to me. My sister-in-law is a doctor and she favors using natural remedies as well as modern medicines. Though I've never actually helped her out in her garden. Are you a doctor as well?"

To him, a sprit is a spirit as he is a mage the uses magic but it does not matter, the idea is still something all encompassing; a creature formed from magic to stand against those who raise them. When the other hums with him, Dorian cannot help but chuckle, the tone low in his chest, quiet but just loud enough to be obvious as he reaches for a trowel and offers it to the other, having used his hands for most of it. Getting closer to the earth perhaps, dirty work was not really his favoured idea of keeping ones hands busy but it helped and he could meticulous clean them later, it was a winning situation either way.

"An unhelpful acquaintance, if you gave me a coin for every time I came across a man like that I'd be wealthier than my father." The other sits down and he notes his state of dress for a moment before pulling one of the plants towards him from the small grouping he had created earlier, many still within their plastic homes, ready to be reconnected with the ground as they should be. The cricket comment amuses him though and he grins, giving a small shake of his head. "You're a smart one, you are."

Another sarcastic comment, a jest but as he pulls out the next plant, he offers it to the other, pointing to the hole that is closest to him, a good spacing away. "A doctor? No, not in the least. I am no healer, only a few spells here and there but where I come from we rely heavily on plants for more than just cooking. I had to read about these though, I can't say I've seen any elfroot here and nor do I expect to."

A small beat then; "So, you have a family then?"

Not so much for Cricket. Oh, there are spirits and they're capricious lot, but they have their different types and temperaments. Cricket has a pleasant and calming tenor. At least currently. When he wants he can totally change it as any good musician can.

Taking the trowel, he started digging a small hole for a plant.

"The biggest problem with him is that he's one of those people that's so charismatic that he can get you to do something you know deep down in your bones is a terrible idea but somehow seems like a good idea when he presents it." Every time Rhys shows up, Cricket promises himself that he wasn't going to go along with him... and then he ends up in a swamp somewhere getting bitten by midges looking for some... thing.

"I'm no fool. Now midges on the other hand, I would believe you," he said, "And that's better than I. I've never had a hand for healing beyond bandaids and handing over aspirin."

He dug another little hole. "I do. I have an older brother and a nephew as well as my parents."

As they gardened, Dorian listen to the man speak about these small facts of his life, eyes cast downward on the dirt, reaching for the hole that was completed and leaning over, closer to the other, placing it in the carved out space and took the soil with his hands, smoothing it back down to place within the crevices and pack it tightly, rooting the foliage back into the earth, his fingers sliding over, pushing and pulling to create the habitat.

"Then charismatic is not the word I would use for him, manipulative is likely what you are looking for." Comes the mages reply as he lifts his head to look at the man from his bent over position, covering the plant within it's new, natural housing. The words are simple, bluntly stated, but Dorian rarely is the man to hold back. "I assume bandaids are close to bandages but I'll fail you at grasping what aspirin is, something otherworldly I am guessing, new, or modern." After all he had seen many things here that he had never before seen in his life, medication was something he heard of, only in passing.

"Lucky you, a brother to lovingly torment you, a nephew to watch after when the parents are away and your very own two parents to do whatever it is families do in your realm. Should I assume it's a loving unit that you sow you're dependence in?"

A mirthless bark of laughter escaped Cricket, he didn't mind the bluntness. In fact he tended to be blunt at times - when it was called for. "Yes, that is another word for him. Bastard is another. I have an entire list of things I call him. That being said he does have his good points." Like being good in the sack.

"Ah... aspirin is made from willow bark...?" Well, probably not made from it, but close enough. He figured that Dorian would at least know what that was. Hopefully. "It's been around for a while, but I couldn't tell you for how long."

Medication was pretty much the same for him. It never interested him; music was his life in some ways.

"I'm actually on tour more often than not so I don't see my family very often," he said, though he didn't sound too mournful about it. His older brother didn't torment him, but was a bit dull. The nephew was going to be in serious trouble soon and he probably should go back to check on him. Some spirits had taken a bit too much of a liking to him. As for his parents? They were his parents.

"What about you? Family?"

The laughter was nice to hear, it seemed like it had been awhile since he heard it even if that was not true. Since the calm after the storm, things seemed so normal, almost quaint with battles to be had here and there. This though, it was another type of torture, living in a small home, on his own, with only the sight of a few familiar faces yet men like Cricket seemed to make it better; the more outgoing type, not afraid to strike up a conversation with a stranger. So far so good, he was happy for his company. Still, as the other speaks, he continues his motions of planting, finishing off what he was working with and waiting for the man to dig the next hole patiently, running the dirt between his fingers.

"I'm not too concerned, I don't plan on taking it any time soon." He was a man of his means, and would rather make his own medication than depend on something too new, not knowing the side effects of not taking something for his entire life then suddenly deciding to; it could interfere with his own magical abilities, something he was not willing to risk. "So you are a musician, you travel around performing your art--a bard would you say? Bards don't have time for a life at home, I suppose though it's fine all the same."

When the other asks about his family though he looks up and smiles at him, kindly enough before reaching out to take the other mans hand that was holding the trowel and positioning it to the next spot, humour in his voice.

"I'd rather not broach the subject, I normally save such talk for something much further along; say the fifth date at least."

At least he has familiar faces from home. So far Cricket has seen only himself and, well, Aisling. The tiny spirit, however, wasn't that great of a companion when it came to human companionship. It couldn't talk, go drinking, argue, complain - all the necessary things that a man needed to stay sane. Being a public performer he'd learned to be out going and talk to people out of a mater of defense. People would talk to him anyway - if only for autographs.

"Sadly, life rarely does what you plan for it to do." If it did, would they be here? Unlikely. It's certainly not what he planned on doing. He planned on heading back to Cardiff and checking in on his nephew. "I am a bard, yes." A normal traveling musician but also a bard - he had some magic at his disposal as the spirit testified. But perhaps to Dorian it just meant a traveling musician.

He did at least look a tiny bit sheepish when his hand got moved and muttered an apology. Sometimes he got too involved in talking that he forgot what he was doing. Still, he started digging more holes.

"That sort of family." He raised his eyebrows, amused. "If you're waiting for the fifth date they must be quite the story. How much alcohol is involved telling their tale?" He's not opposed to going out on a date though it's been a while for him.

A suffering he thought he would feel upon his arrival but the world had proved him delightfully wrong. Still, companionship came in many forms and Dorian was nothing but a social butterfly, always keen on meeting and speaking to new people, seeing where things would lead and as it stood right now, it was left at the mage taking the others hand and giving a small squeeze at his bashful expression before pulling away and taking up his own digging alongside the other, a distance away, enough for the plants to bloom, to grow, much like relationships would do on their own with time. It was rather amusing though, seeing the previous rather confident individual become sheepish and he would place it away in his bank of memories for a quip to be summoned later.

"That is essentially true though highly unfortunate, it's rather painful to even consider." A joke, a small murmur of humour and he looked over to the other. A bard to him was nothing magical, they travel and could sing, state poems and perform other arts normally found in taverns or on the roads for a weary traveller yet the comfort they could bring in song was magic in its own right. "A bard with a spirit comrade, is it? You know my next question is going to be what your craft of choice is so you might as well as own up to it; a singer, or a dancer, perhaps a bit of both."

Teasing at this point, he utters a small chuckle at the comment and well, a date is never a bad thing to say no too and here they where, hands deep in soil discussing it, it made Dorian smile and shake his head in a fond manner.

"If I was to have a guess I would say at least two bottles of wine before moving onto something stronger." He uttered, looking towards Cricket with an arch of his brow. "Do you plan to wine and dine me to get the story out, hm? I can assure you it's quite lengthy and not worth your time."

Dorian is a very man in that respect. Sadly, it would take an extreme series of unlikely circumstances to get someone from Cricket's world here.

As for the embarrassed moment, he dislikes getting distracted enough from his task that he forgets what he's doing. It's something he likes to think is beneath him; he's a performer after all. But engaging conversation is engaging conversation. The squeeze earns a bit of an eyeroll, but a gentle one.

"Dance? No. I can't dance worth to save my life. I'm a singer, song writer, storyteller and guitar player - though I do play a few other instruments."

"Two bottles?" Now he got an almost wolfish grin the sort that came with a challenge laid out before him. "I've always found that the harder it is to get a story out of someone, the more interesting it is. There must be some reason why they hide it. And as a storyteller any story is worth my time."

The other rolls his eyes, and Dorian grins in return, the curve of his lips playful and that small laugh surfacing again like the bubble on the surface of a lake. It's a warm sound and he exhales, keeping his hands within the soil as he pushes aside more, making room for the next plant to be buried within. Hands dirty, he reached for the sage and removed it from its temporary plot, gently with careful pulls and tugs from the stem, releasing it and placing it within the ground. Everyone was allowed to get distracted every now and then, it was a common for humans to do so when something took interest and so therefor, it really wasn't a problem.

"Quite a repertoire you have there." His voice replied, eyes cast downward on his work, speaking and doing, it was something he took on easily as Dorian rather enjoyed talking, a little too much. He smirks though, the motion soft. "Singing, writing, telling stories and playing an instrument yet the man doesn't dance, now that is a shame. Still, you'll have to sing for me sometime, that way I can appropriately judge you."

Still, when he moves on the speak about the potential of his own story, Dorian pauses and looks up towards the other, searching his face very carefully, amusement washed in with a tone of lingering seriousness as his background was not exactly the point of a story and never would be, more a nightmare if anything, something that would not be worth telling, only to gain him sympathy and if anything, Dorian took care of things on his own, in his own quiet manner. Still, the grin of the other has him smirking all the same and it's his turn to roll his eyes, sitting up straight and folding his hands in his lap idly.

"Two bottles and maybe more, I do enjoy playing hard to get." The mage spoke evenly, laughing softly once more. "Though I assure you, interesting is not the word I would use in reference to my story, my background at least. The tale gets better as you move on, but it's not worth a repeat."

It's a nice grin. There's also something nice about digging in the dirt; there's no expectations and it's not terribly difficult. Mindlessly repetitive. He dug a few more holes with neat precision as Aisling drifted down from his hair to give its opinion on where he should dig them.

"They all sort of mix, really. I enjoy songs that tell tales and adventures as opposed to songs about how much this girl or guy is really good looking and I want to keep them in my life forever or how much my heart is broken because this guy or girl I thought I loved just dumped me." The trowel stabbed at the dirt absently, perhaps with a bit more force than necessary, "They're shallow and unimaginative. That being said I do sing them. I'm not stupid enough to throw away something that will pay for my dinner."

A bit more dirt is tossed over. "But I wouldn't mind singing for you. I enjoy doing that."

His expression is one of intense curiosity, the sort that would get cats killed, but he wouldn't press it if asked not to. A good story isn't worth breaking up a relationship over, new or not. And if you're patient then the story might be told to you anyway.

"I have no idea if there is any good wine here, but I will find some." He tilted his head and then brushed some hair out of his eyes, getting a smudge of dirt on his face. "Interesting is a matter of opinion. If what you say is true, then I will happily change my description of it. But until I know, I will have to withhold judgement."

Re: Dorian Pavus | Dragon Age: Inquisition

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