test drive 01

[thestewards]

'Cause I have these new fears I carry with me
So you can feel stronger, you can know peace

► All TDM threads may be considered canon provided both parties agree and are accepted into the game.

► Canon threads may be redeemed for influence and reputation, depending on how you solve the issue at hand or how you engage with the prompt.

► Feel free to switch up your character's Jewel from thread to thread. Get a feel for how a Birthright Jewel may limit or enchance your character's abilities.

GOOD MORNING, DRAEGA
The psychic summons comes with the first light of dawn, waking you from a dream of home. It takes you a minute to remember where you are (a warm, comfortable room in Queen Fayura's residence) and then a moment longer to parse the words.

*Your presence is requested in the training field behind the Queen's Residence. You have ten minutes to get your ass out of bed on your own, or ten minutes to decide you want to be up to your neck in ice-cold mountain water. Your choice.* Gray power flavors the voice. Ah, you recognize that psychic touch. Allairavar, the Master of the Guard.

You remember, too, that he warned the household at last night's supper: if you live in the Queen's Residence, you practice with the Queen's court. You…

i. Drag yourself out of bed with an aching groan, dress with the bleary-eyed confusion of one too suddenly forced awake, and amble onto the training field to avoid the promise of a much more shocking wake up call. Or maybe you make your way quickly with a skip in your step and a twinkle in your eye. You haven't realized yet that Allairavar does not like morning people. Even so, you don't want to get dunked in ice water in the middle of winter.

ii. Roll over and go back to sleep. The Master of the Guard isn't really going to carry through with his threat. In your defense, he doesn't. But one of the First Circle does. You're not sure how you got from your room to a large barrel full of water that could freeze open flame, but here you are, soaked and shivering and very much awake.

Regardless of how you get to the training field, Allairavar pairs you with another Stranger and puts you through your paces. It's barely above freezing, but you're going to need a shower when you're done.


BUILD BETTER BOMBS
There are three rows of four tables set up in the Tinker Guild Hall's auditorium, all heavy laden with materials. Bits of wires, buttons both small and large, ticking clocks. A tank full of goldfish. Sand, canisters of gasses, a strange viscous liquid in a bowl of lead.

"Handle that with gloves," Master Tinker Mari warns you with a wink and a grin. "The bowl, I mean. Don't handle the liquid or you'll lose your hand." She waves her hands at you.

This is supposed to be a crash course in bomb making, and in a way it is. Master Tinker Mari crashes into person after person, pushing them into pairs. She shoves someone up to you. "Blow my mind!" she whispers dramatically, and then she vaults the table, making something in a vial smoke, bubble, and pop.

Around the edge of the auditorium are four chalkboards, each with several diagrams on them. Presumably, these are schematics for you to follow. Smoke bombs, flour bombs. Fireworks and sparklers. Water bombs—maybe she means water balloons? One schematic requires a hamster wheel.

You might as well give it a go.

Note: Master Tinker Mari won't let anyone blow themselves up (or blow up the building). In the event Strangers make something truly dangerous and not just inconvenient, she will hurry over with a much more serious demeanor and disarm the bomb they've created with a suggestion that they take her advanced course.


CHARITY IS AS CHARITY DOES
You were sent here to help, so help you have: by letting the Ebon Council auction off three hours of your time and the power in your Jewels to help with local troubles. Maybe someone's cold box has lost its cooling spell—that's basic Craft and you can help with that—or maybe someone needs you to fetch their cat down from a tree. Whatever it is, you're here to take care of it.

The stage you stand on creaks beneath your feet as a polite older witch bids on you and your partner (the Ebon Council would never let you work alone, no, the landens are too dangerous for you to be out on your own!) with three jars of pear preserves. No money exchanges hands here, just items like non-perishable foods and handmade clothing or blankets.

You'll help the little old witch who needs some rocks moved from the fields just outside Draega's walls, but it occurs to you that only the Blood were at this auction, and only they will reap the rewards. That's hardly charity… but that's also not your problem, is it? Maybe it is. You could always ask that landen couple hovering just to the side of the stage what they need (their roof is leaking, and the man's right hand is crippled, twisted into a rigid claw). Or maybe you won't. They don't have anything to offer, and everything has a price, even your time.


HIT AND RUN
Chill winter air doesn't keep anyone inside in Draega. Stalls line the streets of the Old Town Bazaar, and vendors hawk their curious wares. Blood and landen mingle here, each a little wary of the other but with the affect of those who have accepted they must live alongside their enemy. Expressions are shuttered, but marks are marks no matter who hands them over. No shopkeeper denies a customer just because the money comes from someone they don't like, not in times like these.

As you make your way through the Bazaar, perhaps in search of something or someone or a place to eat (the scent of meat pies is thick in the air), you hear a shout and a cry of pain. People peel back as one, revealing a group of young landen men carrying clubs and wearing cruel sneers. At their feet, a young boy sprawls across a puppy in the muddy slush that covers the road.

You catch the flavor of his psychic scent: he's half-Blood, one of those pitiable creatures accepted by neither the Blood or the landens.

"Y-you can't hurt him!" the little boy cries, curling around the puppy. "P-Prince Verim will stop you!"

The young men laugh. "Prince Verim isn't here," one spits, raising his club.

You could step back. After all, this isn't your problem. You could just alert the First Circle and call it done; they patrol the area, one of those males will surely be here soon. Or you could step in. Everything has a price, and the price of attacking a helpless child and a puppy is a tussle with you.


WALKIE-TALKIE
Catch up with a new acquaintance you met at the Queen's Residence or simply pause to listen to the news playing in a store you're passing through. Far-casters come in all shapes and sizes, from the held-held device that's a bit clunky to the radios that stand at a man's height in some restaurants. If you're spinning the dial and listening to some radio programs, you'll hear…

etiquette with evandra and aren.
[A woman's voice leads. It's a little bit rough and a little bit husky, the kind of voice that gives bad ideas to young men and headaches to fathers.] …just as well. Since you don't want to die for offending a Warlord Prince's lady, what do you do, Lord Aren?

[A man's voice, chipper and bright. He sounds more like an eager boy than the full-grown man he is.] Apologize immediately to her, but meet his gaze so he knows the apology is for him as well. Remember, dear listeners: a Warlord Prince's lady may be all that stands between you and a violent end. Make sure she likes you!

[The woman laughs.] Or at least doesn't think killing you is worth the trouble. If we all learn a little more about each other, we can learn to live together. As always, I'm Evandra.

[With great gusto, Lord Aren says:] I'm Aren, and you've been listening to…

[Together:] Etiquette with Evandra and Aren! [Jaunty outro music plays, a complete tonal dissonance with the fact that the two were just educating landens on how to avoid murder.]

the weather
[A soft-spoken man's voice rumbles out of the Far-caster. He's pleasant to listen to, with a soothing cadence to his voice.] …rain tomorrow with overcast skies through the morning and afternoon. Landen weather devices indicate a decrease in sky-pressure, so those of you who suffer from migraines may want to talk to your Healers or Medicos now.

There's possibility of snow later in the week from the northwest. Questions about snow removal? Reach out to your local Transport Guild rep or your Ebon Council chairperson.

the news
…Blood family of four found murdered in their homes. The Queen's Court assures Draega that no payment for the murders is being asked for at this time. [The man speaks at a brisk pace, hurried and harried as though he has too much to say and not enough time to say it.]

That's right, Garret. [Another man, nasally in tone. He doesn't sound rushed so much as put upon.] Preliminary investigations do indicate the Hunter Guild may be responsible for the deaths.

[Garret:] Indeed they do, Wilt. Evidence at the scene supports the use of Breakers on the family. Turning now from the grisly murder to the surprising way the Queen's Winsol gift to the city is being used to benefit both Blood and landens.

Comments

[clairvoyeur]

[ aha, now this is what he'd been waiting for. in a situation like this... it was inevitable that someone would intervene eventually, wasn't it? well, no, there was always a possibility that no one would, and the child would have met a rather untimely demise... but that was a risk he'd been willing to take in order to see who would step up. ]

A shame indeed.

[ though most seem rather confused by exactly what's happened, merlin can't suppress a wry smile as he glances at the young girl. ]

But getting involved with something like this can get pretty dangerous!

[ he says that last bit a little too loudly... though whether that was on purpose or not, who knows. either way, the ruffians definitely overhear him, and draw conclusions accordingly. their eyes move to him, than to the girl he seems to be talking to, then back to him. they may not understand exactly what happened... but its clear they've jumped to the conclusion that they're responsible. whoops? ]

[consecrates]

Wait, what— [ it takes her a full minute to realise what just happened, her look of surprise and annoyance moving from the man to the bullies in question. dangerous is an understatement to describe their—or is it just her?—circumstances, their newfound friends slowly advancing towards them, clubs raised. Davina, however, isn't fazed, just looking very much irritated at this sudden development. and of course, at her unknown "companion". ]

Really? You're turning on us just because you stupidly dropped your stick in your face?

[ she sighs, rolling her eyes while hiding her hand behind her back. another flick of her wrist, and the same thing happens to the other landen bully, the club hitting him square in the nose. ]

[clairvoyeur]

[ well, once might have been a coincidence, but twice? the oddness of what's happened is enough to give club wielders some pause, though they definitely seem to be wising up to the fact that someone is causing this. ]

Haha, look at that! They did it again. You guys really need to get a better handle on those things, or someone might get hurt.

[ ...merlin's comments aren't really helping to de-escalate things either. if there's any solace to be found, it's in the fact that the young boy's at least taken the distraction to take the puppy and get some distance. ]

So, do you have any more tricks? [ merlin's eyes seem genuinely delighted as he turns to davina to ask; though he's definitely in danger of immediate bodily harm as well, he doesn't really seem to think much of it. ]

[consecrates]

[ definitely not helping! (but she's at least inwardly glad that the boy got away.)

Davina throws a pointed look at Merlin, to keep his big mouth shut before they get into trouble they were not supposed to be in in the first place, forcing a polite, unassuming smile on her face. not very convincing either, that expression of hers. ]

I'm not really sure what you meant by "tricks"— [ the landen men, however, have already made up their minds and makes a grab for her arm, most likely to demand what she's been doing. in response, Davina hurls a hand out, palm turned outwards, and tosses the man across the street with her magic, knocking him against the wall. the rest of the group looks at her in surprise and apprehension.

dammit. ]

[clairvoyeur]

Hm, I suppose you have a point. That wasn't really something you can call a "trick" anymore.

[ rather than dissuading the men, however, they all just appear to be more incensed now. in their minds, this has changed from simple intimidation to an actual brawl - something they're more than familiar with. more clubs come out, as some of the men who had been hit earlier seem to have recovered and want payback. ]

Don't worry though. Tricks happen to be my specialty.

[ the space around them seems to distort for a bit, before mirror images of the both of them begin to appear... well... everywhere, actually. the bazaar is suddenly filled with copies of the two of them, throwing all of the landen thugs into complete disarray. ]

Ha... maybe I overdid it a little.

[consecrates]

[ that's not very comforting.

Davina takes a step back when they brandish more weapons around them. look, she can incapacitate two guys, at most three at the same time, but she honestly doesn't do well fighting a group of thugs. being a witch? means she's just as weak as humans with no magic in terms of physical endurance.

but she stops when she senses the magic flowing around her, the space twisting and warping. a chambre de chasse? no ... ]

Projection magic?

[ at such a large scale too, and all by himself too. she's impressed. ] Is this our cue to run?

[clairvoyeur]

[ his eyes perk up at that last bit. projection? ]

Nothing as fancy as that.

[ the men have already started lunging at the various mirror images, taking wild swings at... nothing, really. every miss just seems to frustrate them, as the various onlookers all around start laughing. ]

Hm, well, running is probably a good idea. I'm not sure how long this thing is going to hold up...

[ he produces his bloodstone from his pocket, a rather plain looking opal, scrutinizing it for a moment... before all at once, the various mirror images blur and distort, then vanish entirely.

siiiigh. ] Just so you know, my stamina's usually better than this.

[consecrates]

[ she's not entirely sure what he considers as "fancy" but that definitely looks like projection magic.

but you know what, she's not even argue about pedantry or whatever; instead, Davina will take advantage of the distraction and just try to drag him away from the crowd. she doesn't even glance to look what happened to their magic, sprinting down the street with Merlin in tow until their pursuers are all gone. and it's only that she finally lets his sleeve go, pausing to catch her own breath.

if only their jewels also compensated for their body's stamina. ]

That was stupidly reckless.