Good Morrow mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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goodmeme2023-10-06 06:18 pm
morrowmods) wrote in goodmeme2023-10-06 06:18 pm
Entry tags:
TEST DRIVE MEME
test drive meme
Welcome to the opening test drive of goodmorrow! If you're just getting here, you can find our game premise here and our full navigation here.
It's a new game, but you don't have to play a newbie! This game has a mechanic that allows people to app characters who aren't new to the setting. Please check over on our application guidelines for more information about how it works. We've also got a summary of World Events that occurred prior to this TDM, so your oldbie can have some things to reference.
Thank you for playing! We're excited to have you.
goodmorrow! If you're just getting here, you can find our game premise here and our full navigation here.It's a new game, but you don't have to play a newbie! This game has a mechanic that allows people to app characters who aren't new to the setting. Please check over on our application guidelines for more information about how it works. We've also got a summary of World Events that occurred prior to this TDM, so your oldbie can have some things to reference.
Thank you for playing! We're excited to have you.
the summoning
Arrivals
There is always a buzz around the time of a summoning ritual. Will there be dozens? Or will this time only yield a handful? Will the stakes become dramatic enough for there to be a glimpse of one of the Old Ones, and the chance to partake in their incomprehensible greatness? The ones who believe consider it a day of hope and new beginnings. However, there are much more mundane concerns for the skeptics. Summoning means that there will be a whole new group of displaced folks who'll need to be oriented. They'll come hurting and confused, squirming with the bone-deep pain of travel and weary after hours of hearing about how they've been Chosen to herald the approach of the Old Ones. People will be here seeking help, and most of the native townsfolk only understand how to preach at newcomers. The new arrivals will likely need help from more experienced expats who better understand where they're coming from.
dessicated and unremarkable
Forbidden Knowledge
Even after the end of the summoning ritual, many kept their eyes watching the sky. There is always the risk of summoning more than just a new batch of novitiates. When pulling things from other worlds, chances are high that something else might tag along.
A few hours after the end of the introductory sermon, scraps of paper start to blow down from the sky. They travel on the breeze and seem to get into everything. They land on roofs and float through open windows. They get tangled in tree branches and end up underfoot on walking paths. Page after page delicately makes its way to the earth.
It must be wisdom from the cosmos! The rumor sweeps its way across town in hushed whispers. The gossips are saying that the elders want the pages collected, so that they can properly archive and study them. They promise a handsome reward to those who can gather enough to fill a tome, but that seems somehow less attractive, even as something to wish about. Whether deliberately hunting out the pages or accidentally encountering them in everyday life, it will soon be obvious that these are pages full of something best left unseen.
Some of the manuscript pages seem mundane enough. The words seem strangely familiar, as if they might be legible if one focuses on them hard enough. It's just a matter of figuring out handwriting or deciphering a dialect. It must be. A page might prove so engrossing that it leaves a person in an enthralled state, silently locked in a quest to understand something that looks so comprehensible only for it to veer off into the uncanny. This lock might leave them tremendously suggestible to any words spoken around them, their minds struggling and desperate enough to latch on to anything comprehensible at all.
Other pages seem less similar to human writing and will likely create less of a hold on those with the misfortune to view them. The pages covered in glyphs and arcane symbols feel almost empowering their foreignness, almost as if one might simply let the experience wash over them and let it run through them. Those unlucky enough to state too long at one of those pages might find themselves overwhelmed by instances of magical outbursts. It feels like a strange sort of sneeze as the arcane energy suddenly sparks a small thunderbolt into existence, or turns a bushel of hay into a solid block of iron. The effects are seemingly random, but wear off on their own in a few minutes. It's probably fine. What kind of damage could be done in such a short time?
This might be a relief to the illiterate members of the community, if it wasn't for the leathery pages. More parchment than paper in texture, these pages seem to carry something ominous in the rough fibers of their material. When touched without protective gloves, these pages force their handler to feel a glimpse of unspeakable suffering. It comes from a place beyond pain, lighting parts of the mind that were never intended for use. Screaming might be a way to express it, but more often it manifests in an expression of extreme emotion. Hysterical mania seems nice until it doesn't end and keeps a person up at night unable to stop laughing. Murderous rage might be inconvenient for the other members of the village. Whatever the emotion is, it's gone far beyond any normal limitation and will stay that way for the next several hours.
Enjoy the hunt, Revelbrooke. Try not to end up with too many papercuts.
A few hours after the end of the introductory sermon, scraps of paper start to blow down from the sky. They travel on the breeze and seem to get into everything. They land on roofs and float through open windows. They get tangled in tree branches and end up underfoot on walking paths. Page after page delicately makes its way to the earth.
It must be wisdom from the cosmos! The rumor sweeps its way across town in hushed whispers. The gossips are saying that the elders want the pages collected, so that they can properly archive and study them. They promise a handsome reward to those who can gather enough to fill a tome, but that seems somehow less attractive, even as something to wish about. Whether deliberately hunting out the pages or accidentally encountering them in everyday life, it will soon be obvious that these are pages full of something best left unseen.
Some of the manuscript pages seem mundane enough. The words seem strangely familiar, as if they might be legible if one focuses on them hard enough. It's just a matter of figuring out handwriting or deciphering a dialect. It must be. A page might prove so engrossing that it leaves a person in an enthralled state, silently locked in a quest to understand something that looks so comprehensible only for it to veer off into the uncanny. This lock might leave them tremendously suggestible to any words spoken around them, their minds struggling and desperate enough to latch on to anything comprehensible at all.
Other pages seem less similar to human writing and will likely create less of a hold on those with the misfortune to view them. The pages covered in glyphs and arcane symbols feel almost empowering their foreignness, almost as if one might simply let the experience wash over them and let it run through them. Those unlucky enough to state too long at one of those pages might find themselves overwhelmed by instances of magical outbursts. It feels like a strange sort of sneeze as the arcane energy suddenly sparks a small thunderbolt into existence, or turns a bushel of hay into a solid block of iron. The effects are seemingly random, but wear off on their own in a few minutes. It's probably fine. What kind of damage could be done in such a short time?
This might be a relief to the illiterate members of the community, if it wasn't for the leathery pages. More parchment than paper in texture, these pages seem to carry something ominous in the rough fibers of their material. When touched without protective gloves, these pages force their handler to feel a glimpse of unspeakable suffering. It comes from a place beyond pain, lighting parts of the mind that were never intended for use. Screaming might be a way to express it, but more often it manifests in an expression of extreme emotion. Hysterical mania seems nice until it doesn't end and keeps a person up at night unable to stop laughing. Murderous rage might be inconvenient for the other members of the village. Whatever the emotion is, it's gone far beyond any normal limitation and will stay that way for the next several hours.
Enjoy the hunt, Revelbrooke. Try not to end up with too many papercuts.
ooc notes
Thanks for checking out this setting! If you have questions, feel free to direct them to the first thread below.
no subject
This was also a very similar expression to the 'please adopt em' bent that Gale also was inclined to follow through on. The bap to the nose had him lowering his forehead in recalcitrance. ]
What about Fangerella?
[ There was that sparkle coming back to his eyes, before Astarion could feel too bad for the nose bap; he had after all conveyed early on in their adventure that he had been what one called a 'scamp' ]
no subject
Ugh.
Then Gale went and talked again, and the spell was broken. Astarion waggled the rolled up page at him threateningly.]
That would also be an emphatic "no." For one thing, perhaps it's best not to advertise my... undead nature. Not everyone is quite so accepting and forgiving of having a monster walking freely in their midst. I'd rather not be subjected to the stakes and torches treatment; it's very tiring.
no subject
[ Even if they had not tipped a cow, forevermore would Astarion knew that it was a thing outside the walls of Waterdeep during the fast and fleeting summer months and they had bonded over cows.
It was sort of like friendship, perhaps? And even back at Camp, they had formed a truce of sorts in which Astarion turn his back when rolling his eyes at him and Gale turned his back when Astarion was convincing Tav to do nasty things(tm) ]
no subject
[The elf stopped mid rejecting that idea as the implication of it really hit him. An inside joke? Between them? That would make them dangerously close to being friends, wouldn't it?
How would that work? How did one have a friend? It sounded complicated, and like it would be a lot of work.
And yet.]
Fine, I suppose. If it's only between you and me, I could allow it.
[What was this strange stirring where his dead cold heart ought to be? Must have been something he ate.]
no subject
It'd be nice right? A friend-- though Tav had also been getting close, perhaps the others as he thought about it more and more. But there was a lot similarities that himself and Astarion shared, and that was very horrible Exs. ]
Maybe I will think of a better name for you other than Fangerella, Little Bo Poke, or even Shepherdess Acuunin.
[ Was that a threat coming from those sparkling brown eyes? Yes, it absolutely was. ]
no subject
Whatever it was, Astarion's expression softened, some of the usual sharpness in his smile -- that managed to show despite the fact that he smiled with his fangs quite hidden -- fading at the edges.
Yes it would be acceptable to have a friend. It would be more than acceptable for that to be Gale. They had come to a strange understanding with one another in their time together in their odd little party of tadpole-bonded misfits.]
Don't strain yourself for my benefit, dear.
[He deadpanned at him.] And do keep in mind I will have my retribution. [A pause and he hummed before adding.] Gale DeCOWrios.
[Another pause and a sigh.] Not my best work. I'll have to do better.
no subject
It was doubtful that his mother was a thought in his grandmother's line.. it probably went down the Dekarios line a few generations before it became appropriate. ]
I look forward to hearing future attempts, and I invite you to do your worst.
[ Even if that invitation would be a slippery slope made of magical messages sent back and forth or the eventual taking of blood. This was dangerous and the two of them did not precisely realized how much of that was ]
no subject
[Astarion informed him, trying not to look quite so pleased as he felt that he'd earned something of a laugh from Gale. This all ways a dangerous beginning, a very slippery slope. He'd realize that later.
He did not see it now though, not for what it was, only that he was grateful that if he had to be in such a strange and distasteful place, that he had decent and -- hells, he couldn't believe he was saying this -- trusted company here with him.]