TDM The First

[lethevale_mods]

You probably know how this works, but just in case, here's the idea:

1. You put the name of the character you're testing out in the subject line
2. You write a starter (or several!) in the comment, with the Lethevale AU of your character.
3. People respond with their characters. Threads occur. Friendships are made. The world is put to rights.
4. None of the threads in the Test Drive are game-canon.

Here are some prompts to start you off!

1. Seeking Shelter

You were riding along the mountain road when your horse, terrified by some dark shadow you couldn't see clearly, screamed and bolted, throwing you. Now you're caught in the middle of nowhere, in Lethe Wood, and the rain is getting heavier by the minute.

But what's that? A light? A house? Perhaps if you knock, they'll give you a bed for the night. It'll all look better in the morning...

 

 

2. The Beast! The Terrible Beast!

You took all the precautions. You carried a lantern, kept to the safer streets. Or maybe you didn't. Either way, you were attacked by something as big as a horse, with gleaming white teeth and a hideous howl.

When you run into another person, will you warn them? Will you ask them for a hiding place, or stand and fight? If all else fails, maybe you can use them as live bait...

 

3. Eat, Drink, and Be Merry

Lethevale isn't all monsters and storms. Mostly, but not all. Tonight, there's a party in the Black Swan - dancing, music, and of course, an open bar. Take the chance to get to know your neighbours, why don't you?

4. Pay No Attention To The Passage Behind The Curtain

The two of you were just wandering around Lethe Hall, when you leant on a candlestick, and... what's this? The bookshelf's opened? There's a hole in the wall now, and a spiral staircase leading down into the dark. You know, it's probably best to just leave well enough alone - but you have to admit, it's curious...

COMMS	GENERAL INFO	NEW PLAYERS	CURRENT PLAYERS
main writings ooc mods mod npcs	rules setting premise faq/mod contact gameplay	reserves taken latest tdm application au workshop	contact (locked) hiatus/drop calendar latest hmd lethevale

Comments

James Fitzjames

[endofvanity]

1. Seeking Shelter
The carriage-driver in the last town before Lethe Wood would go no further, so Fitzjames took down his trunk and bargained with a local for a donkey-cart that he could continue with. The cart was rickety and the donkey a pathetic, spavined beast; Fitzjames reckoned neither would be missed. Nor him, for that matter. As he guided the beast along the road, something spooked it and somehow it broke its traces and vanished into the night. Fitzjames thought he heard it braying, and then the sound was abruptly cut off.

Now he's hauling his trunk along in the dark, soaked to the skin, too miserable to be angry, when he sees a light through the trees. He follows it to a small shelter, the sort of thing a hunter might take refuge in; there's a lantern lighted and a half-burned-out fire in the corner. There's just enough embers for him to get it going again with the bits of wood and kindling he can scrounge. Someone, he thinks, was here recently. Hopefully—if they're coming back—they're friendly.

2. The Beast
He's taken to wearing his service revolver as a matter of course, and a good thing too when the creature charges him. He gets the revolver out of its holster and up—

and then despite the chill, he suddenly feels the heat of Africa on his skin, sees the monstrous lion-thing that killed Franklin, and he freezes. He's seized with nausea, his hands shake, and he can't pull the trigger.

The Beast creeps closer, foulness dripping from its jaws.

3. Eat, Drink, and Be Merry
Fitzjames is sitting by the fire with a glass of sherry in his hand, and if you want to be regaled with his adventures in the Crimea and Africa, well, tonight's your lucky night.

Though if you catch him later, you might find him staring into the fire, not quite all there apparently, lost in thought.

2

[major_rawne]

A gun fires just behind Fitzjames, though the bullet barely scrapes the creature's skin.

"Damn!" Rawne holds his gun up and thumps it, "I paid a bloody fortune for this and the aim's off!"

He's a man of military bearing, though wearing civilian clothes. And, though the light is dim, faint bits of a tattoo are visible around one eye.

Re: 2

[endofvanity]

The sound of the gunshot almost brings Fitzjames to his knees, but the voice snaps him out of his fugue. His hands are still trembling but he manages to bring the gun back up again and this time, he fires.

The shot isn't true, but it does strike the creature somewhere on its haunches, enough for it to rear back in pain. Fitzjames takes a step back, then another, then waves a hand at the other man.

"Come on!" If they run, they can get to the safety of the nearest building quickly.

Re: 2

[major_rawne]

Rawne fires once more, this time hitting the creature more solidly, though it doesn't seem badly hurt. His blood is up and, for a second, he wants nothing more than to charge the thing and take it apart with his bare hands. Another breath, though, and he knows that that would be suicidal as well as deeply stupid.

"After you!" he says, and turns to follow the other man.

Re: 2

[endofvanity]

The nearest building is a shop that seems to have been sitting empty for some time. The bolt holding the door shut gives way almost instantly and Fitzjames pushes his way inside, stepping aside for the other man to follow.

There's a heavy table they can push against the door; hopefully that will be enough.

Re: 2

[major_rawne]

Rawne sees the table the moment he steps into the room and moves to one side of it, trying to heave it up onto it's side. It's too heavy for him alone, so he waves the other man over to the other side of it.

1

[ketill]

Torquil - Thomas, he has to remember that, is ready to face the possibility of robbers or man eating beasts or, as the most extreme proof of his misery in the face of rain and storm, one of his siblings some how managing to have found him as long as there's some sort of shelter. He is in no fit state to meet anyone of quality, but he finds it hard to believe he would encounter any of such type here, and hours of rain are (almost) enough to overcome his vanity.

He still pauses in the doorway when he sees the shelter already has an occupant.

Re: 1

[endofvanity]

Fitzjames looks up at the sound of the footfall and manages a smile. He's sitting on his trunk, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, and he turns his hands palm-up to show that there's nothing threatening in them.

"Is this your lantern?" Nodding his head in that direction.

Re: 1

[ketill]

For half a moment, Torquil considers lying. It could give him more power to suggest that the man is intruding in his domain, but it would be too easy to catch out and he has nothing to offer as a threat, so it's better to try to fall back on charm.

He smiles ruefully, extending his own sodden sleeves.

"No, I am afraid that I am far less well equipped. I take it this is not yours?"

Re: 1

[endofvanity]

"Not at all. I stumbled in here to get out of the rain and found a half-burnt fire and the lit lantern. I can only assume the owner left it only a little while ago; I hope that he does not mind some small advantage being taken of his hospitality." Fitzjames wipes a few damp strands of hair out of his face. "James Fitzjames, at your service."

Re: 1

[ketill]

"On such a night, one must hope to find some sympathy in the heart of a man who must have ventured out into the storm." He inclines his head. "Thomas Ainsley, at yours." He doesn't even hesitate over the name.

2

[insufficientjewel]

Francis is not, by any means, a military man. He is fit, yes, and perfectly capable of holding his own in a fight if absolutely necessary, but he has no training and carries no weapon. He has, however, always been blessed with quick reflexes and excellent aim.

He doesn't hesitate, nor even think of running. When he sees the other man freeze, and the dark shadow advancing, he stoops at once and picks up a cobblestone, throwing it with all his might. It bounces squarely against the creature's eye with a wet thud, and the beast recoils, letting out a horrifying howl that echoes, ragged and furious, around the narrow street.

"Fire!" Francis tries to keep his voice calm, but he's all but shouting, bending to grope for another stone. He can see the other man is struggling, but stones aren't likely to see off something this size, and Fitzjames is the one with the gun.

Re: 2

[endofvanity]

At the shout, the world snaps back into focus, and almost without conscious thought, Fitzjames's finger convulses on the trigger of his gun. By some miracle, the shot fires nearly true, and the bullet strikes the beast in the throat.

It howls again, but this time the sound is ragged, wheezing and wet, and when it shakes itself in anger, dark blood goes everywhere.

[insufficientjewel]

Francis straightens up, stone in hand, as the echoes of the gunshot fade from the street, to be replaced by the creature's howls and whimpers. He keeps his eyes on the animal, wary of another attack - it is wounded, he thinks fatally, but that might not be enough to keep it from taking one of them down with it - as he moves slowly, giving the bloody cobbles around the beast a wide berth, towards the man with the gun.

"Are you hurt?" he asks, in a low tone, as he approaches. "Did it get to you?"

[endofvanity]

"No." Fitzjames is still clearly shaken, but there's something cold in his gaze now, and he seems only partly present. Almost mechanically, he steps forward toward the wounded beast, raises his gun again, and fires a shot into its head.

There may have been some question as to whether the previous wound was fatal, but this one definitely is.

[insufficientjewel]

Francis flinches a little, just a little, at the thunder of the gunshot, but he doesn't look away as the beast jerks and falls still, dark blood pooling in the street. For a moment, he just stands there, and then remembers that he's still holding the stone and lets it fall to the ground with a clatter.

"You look pale." It's all he can think to say. "Should we find our way inside, before anything worse can happen?"

3

[splitinvain]

If he was honest, Vere was less here for the conversation and more for the warmth. Even with the room filled with the masses, he could not shake the chill from his bones, and only the warmth of the fireplace helping stop the subtle shakes of his thin frame. In reference to the mixed company he had removed his gloves, his hat, and his great coat, revealing the ink etched into the skin of his hands, the signet ring of jade and gold on his left hand, and a high collar that does little to hide more ink on his neck. As Fitzjames finishes one tale, Vere raises his glass - maybe in acknowledgment though there's a hint of mockery in the curve of his lips - and downs his drink.

"Well told, good sir," he says, setting his glass aside. "Truly you had... adventures enough for one man."

Re: 3

[endofvanity]

The story was a familiar one: how a Russian sniper had nearly killed him at Sevastopol. He tells it well, and one could be forgiven for thinking there's some embellishment, but in fact Fitzjames always hews as closely as possible to the bare facts of the events as he remembers them.

"Enlisting in the Navy directly before the Crimean War was perhaps not a wise decision, but it certainly proved to be an adventurous one," Fitzjames replies with a wry smile, and there's more than a little self-deprecation in his tone.

[splitinvain]

"Youth is never wise," Vere replied. "But how are we to learn if we do not test our wings outside of what our parents wish for us?"

His adventures could also be considered being from his own youthful arrogance, but in all honesty, Vere had expected the disasters that had fallen on him. No one sane would consider such a long voyage on a small leisure vessel like he did. It was his luck that kept them all from death during the months before the pirates were involved.

"Do you regret it?"

[endofvanity]

A small frown flickers across Fitzjames's brow at the mention of parents, but it's quickly replaced by his usual jaunty smile.

"Not a bit. The war notwithstanding, the Royal Navy has been good to me."

[splitinvain]

"Royal Navy? I had thought of joining myself, but my closest kin are in the regiments and wouldn't hear of it. So, I decided on a life of leisure."

A flickering self-mocking smile crossed his face most likely at the idea of him attempting to serve in any capacity. He had height and was quick, but his thin frame and the ever-present cane at his side told of a long illness, possibly even one starting during his childhood. Vere dismissed his words with a flick of his tattooed fingers, shaking his head slightly.

"Well, that is what my father calls it, but in truth I am a Scholar collecting stories from far-away lands."

2

[deuceoftears]

There are sounds from the up the road behind him, plodding and rustling and one sharp snort, and then soft thuds turn into thunder as a patch of night surges past him. The great black warhorse looks smaller, bearing down on the beast, so rarely confronted with anything its own size. But it rears up, refuses the comparison, and before the creature can lunge to disembowel it, the horse bring its full weight (and its rider's, another blur in black, with a face like a single lofted lantern) down on the creature's head. Something cracks and squelches, and the beast shudders and stumbles, but doesn't collapse.

Its head hangs open like a second maw.

It turns from side to side, wobbling horribly, making a snuffling, gurgling noise: both blinded and choked by its own ichors, the beast is still trying to sniff them out. After wheeling away to bleed off momentum, the horse and rider come around for another charge. Hearing the clatter of stained steel horseshoes picking up again, the beast lurches and lopes back into the thicker dark of the forest.

The horse chivvies back and forth, stamping at the edge of the road, steely-eyed and resentful of his stymied pursuit. But the rider holds him back, leaning forward to stroke his neck, murmuring in a low voice with a soft accent. "Thanks, Rev. You got him enough for tonight, okay?"

He slips down off the horse and approaches Fitzjames on foot, and they finally get a look at each other. The boy can't be older than twenty, probably closer to seventeen.

"Are you alright, sir?"

Re: 2

[endofvanity]

Fitzjames is still standing there, rooted to the spot, and when the boy speaks, he stares with a look of stark incomprehension on his face. He's still half-seeing the monstrous lion; a trickle of sweat runs down his back just as it did in Africa, and the light seems strange.

Then his hand falls to his side, his vision clears, and his gaze focuses on the boy's face.

"Yes. Yes—I—I'm quite all right. Thank you." He looks past the boy to the horse. "You—that is a fine animal you have there."

It feels like a ridiculous thing to say, but it's about all his brain can muster.

Re: 2

[deuceoftears]

"Yes, sir. He'll fight anything," Jedao says, instead of he was my father's, which, really, amounts to the same thing. Revenant snorts and bites his arm, hard enough to bruise. Jedao winces without any hint of surprise, waits until the horse's teeth release him, then pulls a waterskin out of his pack with the other hand.

"Here."

Re: 2

[endofvanity]

Fitzjames's eyebrows go up at the little interaction between horse and rider, which smacks of more intellect than he normally expects of a horse. He accepts the water and drinks, then hands it back.

"My thanks. For the water and for the rescue." A small, ironic smile. "You're a stranger here yourself, I take it." A blunt assumption based on the boy's looks and accent, to be sure.