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pixieledmemes2025-05-16 12:28 am
Test Drive Meme #3
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You wake up at a party.
You're not sure how, exactly, you got here. You may have just been walking in the woods or at a meeting for work or doing any other normal activity for you. But you know you weren't supposed to be at this party, you're fairly certain.
Anyone you ask about it will say the party is for you. You and the others also waking up and looking confused. Further questions will lead to the partygoers insisting you have something to eat. You're starving and others are eating the food without repercussion, so you figure there's no harm in a bite. You finish your portion.
It's another garden party near a large hedge maze in the middle of the night. With his penchant for games the Ruler of the Spring Court decided it would be nice to hold an actual game for all the Adopted present. None of that dreidel game a couple of parties ago. This time, he wants more spectacle with higher stakes. Forced to participate and host aspects of this gathering as well, the Ruler of the Dark Court wanted nothing to do with this, so he figured his participation in itself is for the party to happen at night, during his rule, when his mood is at its most pleasant.
Of course, there is no shortage of light sources such as candles and torches, much to the Earl's chagrin, as well as no shortage of food. This time, the fae decided to try their hand on some pasta. They heard it's a good delicacy from the mortal plane. Thing is, sauces look and smell bizarre. One's purple, while another's bright pink, and they taste fruity, as well as flowery, much like the cookies from the last gathering.
As the party winds down and everyone's eaten, a tall, stately woman stands up and speaks. You feel her voice more than hear it.
I am the Lawspeaker of the Fae, elected by Seelie and Unseelie alike, and you are all, now, subjects of Faerie. You cannot leave this realm once you have eaten our food, and even if you could, there is no saying how much time has passed back where you're from. Your loved ones are likely dead, your problems have likely played out. We require assistance in various matters, and each of you has been chosen for your talent and skill. You will be adopted by one of the Seelie or Unseelie Courts based on your strengths and personality. Your Court will decide what to do with you from there.
As suddenly as she stood, she sits back down.
So, what about this hedge maze that seems to have appeared out of nowhere and looming quite eerily beside this night's gathering? For one, peculiar noises can be heard whenever one's near its entrance. From the rustling of leaves to a woman crying, everything seems to be coming from inside.
Of course, the Adopted's participation is required and paramount. Anyone who refuses will be met with harsh penalties and consequences, whatever those may be. They also hint of a prize to anyone who comes out victorious on the other side. It's unclear what it is, though.
The fae know that while the Adopted have been very useful so far, they are also vulnerable and susceptible to fear, so to mitigate that, they have some colorful shots on a table marked LIQUID COURAGE near the entrance to the maze with such effects:
- Gold: Essentially a strong drink that gives you profound energy for 24 hours.
- Red: Downing this will make you feel warm like an aphrodisiac.
- Blue: Basically functions like a normal tequila shot. Or three. Comes with a little bag of salt.
These shots are not compulsory for the Adopted to take, but they will be highly encouraged to do so before entering. Once inside, the rustling of leaves and the sounds of someone crying become louder and even more evident. There are also a few key things that seem to be very clear the longer an Adopted is within the maze's walls:
- The maze is moving. How it's doing it, nobody knows. But it appears to be alive somehow, much like the castle grounds, so finding a clear pathway is almost impossible.
- Whenever an Adopted turns right two consecutive times, they will see a more positive outcome from a terrible event in their lives. Lost someone? They're now here and alive. Gave up on a dream? You find yourself currently living it.
- If an Adopted turns left two consecutive times, they will see someone, a family member or a friend who's still alive and had a deep impact on their lives, bleeding and dead on the ground.
It would be great if no one else can see an Adopted during their most vulnerable, but since the maze moves constantly, another Adopted or two might be able to see them trying to parse out what they're seeing, even if their fellow Adopted can't see it themselves.
CW: dismemberment, body horror, forced body transformations, mild gore, asphyxiation, drowning of children, death
The Spring King only wanted some good-natured fun within the maze, but unbeknownst to him, some Unseelie creatures and Unseelie magic have appeared inside, threatening the safety of the Adopted traversing every nook and cranny. Surely this will not have any lasting consequences between the relationship of the Seelie and Unseelie court rulers. Not at all.
A few of these Unseelie beings and Unseelie magic roaming around the hedge maze that the Adopted will have a chance to meet are as follows:
- Manananggal: Capable of severing its torso from its legs, this vampiric creature usually preys on sleeping pregnant women and unborn babies. But not anymore. Due to magic put on it, this manananggal will strike anyone it comes across. Better pour salt on its severed lower torso once you find it, or else.
- La Llorona: Remember that woman crying? Well, somewhere in the maze alongside the eerie sounds of water flowing, you'll come across a weeping woman cloaked in white with her back turned against you. Be careful not to approach her because once you do, she'll try to choke you to death, reminiscent of how she drowned her own children.
- Jersey Devil: The first thing you'll hear once you turn is a high-pitched, blood-curdling scream then the sound of bat wings flapping. You better run as fast as you can to the other direction because this devil is out to attack anyone it sees on its path.
- A fountain: How odd. Running from the jersey devil or the manananggal might have made you thirsty so perhaps there's no harm in drinking from it. But just coming in contact with its water will make any Adopted soon realize they have transformed into an Unseelie creature.
Fighting off these creatures might be best with a fellow Adopted. After all, there's power in numbers. Just be careful not to die within the hedge maze. There might be some dire consequences.
You feel a vibration in your pocket sometime after the Lawspeaker addresses everyone. When you search for the source, you will pull out your Leaf, the device the Fae use to stay in touch with each other. Anyone who's used a smart phone will easily recognize how it works.
Greetings, Adopted. This is your Lawspeaker.
To be on theme with our festivities for tonight, we want to know a time in your life when you felt lost and wandering about. Perhaps the most compelling story will receive a reward from us.
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"Not as useful as it could have been, but beggars can't be choosers." Does that sound ominous? Probably! "Gonna put the beast to work, of course." He's toying with something at his belt, an ancient looking dagger with it's grip wrapped haphazardly in half rotten leather. The dull coloration and faint rust betrayed it's material: most assuredly iron.
"I'm not walkin' through this mess without some security." Feel free to follow him, because it doesn't look like he's going to explain what his intentions are at all.
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"Are you a necromancer? Are you about to do a necromancy?"
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"Doesn't trouble ye none, does it?" By the sound of it, the idea was a confusing one to Cassian. He rounded the corner, and there sat the fountain, and upon closer inspection, yes. There was indeed a dead Jersey Devil marinating in it, divested of it's claws and teeth. He removed the dagger from the strap that held it, laying the blade across his open palm. Briefly, as he moved, the back of the hand that lay beneath the blade could be clearly seen as he pulled the baggy sleeve up a little. A still bright brand was visible in that moment, the skin of the scar smooth and shiny.
"Most fae I've met tend to get their knickers in a real twist about that." With barely more than a grunt, he gripped the blade in that hand and then yanked it back with the other, slashing a shallow gash across his palm. As the blood dripped lazily into the water and atop the corpse, he continued.
"Mind ye stay well away from the splash zone, I don't know how energetic this thing might get."
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Ouch.
He has to pause, for a second. Re-calibrate.
His voice hasn't stopped being hoarse from the strangling, but maybe just got a little hoarser while he forces out, "That is, our bar was a hot-spot for all sorts. Ghosts, vampires, werewolves, mages, even the odd mortal."
It had gotten them in so much trouble that Tannusen had had to do another round of nobility-murdering about it, and the pair had gone on the run from yet another freehold.
Until, you know, an entirely different danger had caught up. To Isaac, specifically.
"Anyway, no. Doesn't bother me at all."
CW: idk man gross undead monster stuff
"Odd... Can't bloody get 'em to stop interactin', the ones I know of. Wish they'd interact a little bit less, I don't need to get another bloody call about troopin' fairies bitin' the local children again." Easy, blunt, as if he didn't even notice the momentary break in the other man's composure.
The corpse in the water began to wriggle, and Cassian snapped his hand back, wadding his sleeve into the cut and quickly retreating from the side of the fountain. He didn't need to get any magic shape shifting water on him actually. For all he know it wouldn't even do anything unless drank but that could remain within the realm of speculation.
"Right, back up, back away, don't get any water on ye now." He even shooed Tannusen with his uninjured hand after returning the dagger to it's place on the belt, a solid ten feet away when the dead devil's wings began to flap wildly, beating at the water and splashing it a fair good ways as it did. The awful sound it made was wet and choking, gurgling on blood and water as it flung itself from the pool and writhed upon the ground.
"Aye... right, give it a second, still has some nerves firin' off in there messin' with the controls..."
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"I think I crushed its bones pretty good," Tannusen notes, openly interested in the proceedings. "Can it fix them enough to move around properly?"
Curious if there'll be anything ghostly involved in this procedure, he pulls his glasses from his coat pocket and slips them on. Nothing here? But over there--
Ah, that's interesting. He blows a kiss at the empty air back the way they'd come.
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Cassian turned his head to look when Tannusen moved, then peered a bit past him, making a face.
"Don't encourage it."
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But he's having a good time, so that's what's important, here.
His attention goes back to the necromancy, though, morbidly fascinated. Where's a good long poking-stick when you need one?
"This would have been amazing in my other skin," he says, "almost endlessly entertaining."
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"... 'Tis a strange thing to say without context, mate." It's a quasi question, more of the suggestion of one. No, he wasn't about to needle the other man for more information, still unsure precisely where those sensitive spots might be. Oh sure Tannusen had easily offered it up, but then again he'd attempted to speak of other matters with the same level of freedom and, well.
Well, it would be left up to Tannusen whether he'd like to elaborate or not, as the reanimated cryptid staggers to its fucked up feet, wobbling in place like a newborn fawn before lazily taking to the air, bobbing clumsily as it did so.
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A pause.
"I don't know what your fae are like, but I'm... not a guy who turns into a big cat."
It's deeper than just... changing shape, or whatever.
"I'm a big cat who turns into a guy."
There's even a more... middle, thing, in between the mask of humanity and the reality of his other skin. His mien isn't fuzzy like so many pooka, definitely not furry material like they usually are. But it definitely ramps up the whole elf thing that only slips through the cracks, here. And then there's the whole markings situation of it all. The black sclera. The visibly, incredibly sharp teeth, swapped out through nocker surgeons for carved-down manticore fangs. The claws, likewise enhanced but with fragments from a jabberwocky. Both, his own kills, although he'd worked with a group for both of those particular contracts.
(Him taking the teeth and claws of things he kills is pretty normal, it turns out. Sometimes they're useful! With a whole lot of pain and suffering in the process, but whatever. That they'll also be useful as currency even when they're inferior to what he's already had grafted into himself isn't an unnatural idea, either.)
But he'd have to burn some glamour to drop the wyrd, or enchant this guy, for him to ever see what he really looks like in humanoid form. And he just doesn't feel like that, just yet. Doing that to humans willy-nilly is the sort of thing that gets you hunted down by the local court, where he's from, and he's not in a great position for that... today. Maybe tomorrow. He'll go ahead and pencil it in.
"Anyway," Tannusen continues, back to watching the reanimated devil, "In the depths of my other instincts, I was really disappointed it stopped moving so fast, earlier. We're kind of assholes, you know? So this would have been a neat trick."
At least he's aware, albeit utterly unapologetic.
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He'd have appreciated the decision not to tear reality as he knew it down around him if he knew.
"Don't sound a bit like the fae I know of, you'd be a completely different beast entirely." There was a pun in there. That was an obvious little pun in there. He thinks he's funny, but you'd never guess it from the deadpan delivery and an expression like a man caught up in the middle of his taxes.
The dead devil flapped higher, until it hovered overhead, awaiting further orders. That would do, he was sure. An intimidating enough sight to perhaps ward away any other potential predators here. There was the hope of it at least, maybe they'd assume it was stalking its prey and that the priest was already spoken for, gastronomically speaking.
"Aye, I noted that." What, the disappointment or the asshole bit? ... The answer was of course: yes. "Well, if the blighter manages to make it to the end of the maze without fallin' to pieces, you're more than welcome to give it another go. Should still be flappin' about long after it's knocked down this time."
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Grumpy little shit's got jokes, huh? Whether he'd admit it or not. Speaking of...
"Still going to turn its wings into a handbag?" he asks, "That was quite the threat. And if you meant it, it'd probably be worth a lot around here for trade afterwards."
He hasn't actually seen the market, here. But he's used to the sort, from dealing directly with fae villages in the Dreaming. Mostly nockers, but regardless.
He'd bargained well enough through protecting them and doing their bounties to get horrific surgeries out of them for himself, and eventually Jethro a hell of a chimerical form to boot.
"They might even have some fun stuff for your gun to blast out, in the future. Worth considering, huh? I've done a lot with enemy parts as currency over the years."
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"Nay, t'was just ventin' a bit. I've not got the skill for leather work." Just look at the wrappings on the knife after all, half rotten and fallen away. "But perhaps one of our esteemed, benevolent hosts might be interested in some raw materials." Funny how such lovely compliments could be made to sound more like the nasty insults scrawled on a bathroom stall with just a change of tone. "Might do me a bit of good to slip into someone's good graces here." How much could he get in a trade with a pair of big ol' demon wings? Consider him interested.
The priest scoffed at the idea of letting any of the little monsters here near his gun though. "The only thing goin' inside this rifle is elephant shot. I've had this for a hundred and forty years, not lettin' it get gummed up by a bunch of capricious feckin' numpties."
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"Aye, s'called bar soap on sale an' tap water, 'tis the true secret to lookin' young and don't let anyone tell ye otherwise."
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Look, stranger, he can appreciate a good eldritch mystery here, he really can. But what did your hair ever do to you? Tannusen's... just gonna reach over and poke at a flyaway chunk, too. He is. Just gonna... poke.
"They came out with this newfangled stuff called conditioner a few years ago, have you tried it yet?"
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Yeah that hair is a disaster, as dry as the desert with a thousand split ends a thousand times over. He waves Tannusen's hand away with a pronounced, frankly comical scowl.
"I ain't got the time nor the money for vain frippery." Like, you know, conditioner. Pure hedonism right there, it's true.
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Tannusen, of course, has zero problem with Cassian's hair. It would be weird if he did have an actual issue with it, strangers as they are. And... all things considered, with him having an actual animal pelt, in one shape, and hair texture not much different from Cassian's in his mien.
But this line of inquiry is funny.
"You can get that stuff at the dollar store, and everything!"
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"'Tis clean is all that matters, I've not got anyone to impress but the Lord Almighty and I don't think he gives a whit if I look Pantene perfect." At this point, it seemed he'd given the undead servant its orders, speech unnecessary as the thing took off further into the maze without them. Inelegant, but improving with every moment, perhaps the next time they saw it, it might almost look like it could be alive. Almost, anyway, hard to sell the illusion half mauled.
"There's nothin' wrong with a bottle of Radox shampoo all on its own."
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He seems to have invited himself along with the priest on this maze nonsense, at least for the time. Could be worse company? Maybe? Probably?
At least in a pinch he can turn into something a lot bigger and meaner than the stuff in this place, even if he's also a lunatic who... doesn't always bother to put up a fight, for himself anyway.