Test Drive Meme

[ho_mods]

Test Drive Meme

Prompts

1. Ye Olde Tavern - Pull up a chair, stranger. Have a pint. Try the lamb stew! Inns and taverns are the most common way for strangers on an adventure to meet, whether they're on the road to find the next quest, or someone looking for a job (hopefully one that involves annihilating monsters). And if all else fails? BAR FIGHT!

2. Here Be Goblins - Beginning adventurers find goblins to be one of the first monsters they can fight without getting brutally murdered, though veterans might find them to be too weak. Don't underestimate these wily and nasty little fiends! They might not be smart, but there's a LOT of them in this cave, and it reeks of goblin even twenty feet away.

3. Town Festival - What luck! Stopping in this quaint little hamlet to restock on gear and supplies, you're just in time to join the party. It could be a celebration of the recent harvest, a chance to honor a hero of old (maybe your ancestor!), or the local rich guy just decided he wanted to throw a party and rolled out the kegs into town square. Eat! Dance! Fun!

4. Dungeon Crawl - Each dungeon has its own smell...mold, dust, rot, sulfur... None of them fall into the 'pleasant' category. Bring torches, weapons, and wits! You'll need all of these things to find treasure / slay evil creatures / avoid dangerous traps / accidentally unseal a force of evil.

5. So You Accidentally Unsealed a Force of Evil - A nefarious cult has all the ingredients they need to perform an unholy ritual to loose a great demon/god/asshole into the world, and need just one more thing: blood! YOURS! Or your friend's! Or a helpless villager! Only you can stop them. Or maybe you were just too damn late and there goes that evil demon/god/asshole wreaking havoc left and right. Someone should do something about that.

6. So You Successfully Stopped a Force of Evil - You and your teammates have emerged from the cave to see the sun rise. Or beheaded a despot. Or rescued a fishing crew from a horrible sea monster. The point is, you won! What now? Wash off the grime and take a nap? Test out the new magic weapon you found? Brag to that cute adventurer and impress them into dating you? Drink? Drink.

7. Inconvenient Weather - Sometimes the elements just don't want a hero to do the hero thing. There's a raging lightning storm, or a fierce blizzard, or blistering heat... Whatever it is, the smart thing to do is take shelter. Duck into a cave and dry off. See if the inn has any vacancies (or if they'll let you sleep in the hayloft). Set up camp in a magical pocket dimension.

8. Never Get on the Boat - Every seasoned adventurer knows better than to board any sea-faring vessel, lest their bored DM have an excuse to roll out all the horrible aquatic monsters and wait for you to fail your Swimming skill check. But here you are anyway, getting on that ship to fight pirates, find the cursed island, or maybe just catch a really delicious fish. Everyone needs their ocean adventures.

9. Mix It Up! - Randomly select two of the options above and somehow make them fit into one prompt. Be daring! Be bold! Be wild!

Comments

1. Ye Olde Tavern (OTA)

[mannix]

[The young cleric quivered with fright amidst the bustling, jostling group of patrons. Some drunker than others. Life in the cloister hadn't prepared him for so many people and so much noise. Why oh why did they post the adventuring board here? Couldn't it have been in a temple, or library?

But he had to do it. Clerics must be faithful and strong, despite Mannix feeling neither. He weaved through boots and halfling feet, leapt to a chair, then to the table nearest the board. One request looked promising, especially for a greenhorn like him. But even the easiest task likely couldn't be completed alone; he'd need a party. Someone experienced with arcane magic, another with disarming traps...

And that meant he had to speak up. Alas, he didn't learn public speaking in the cloister. He never needed to; the quiet monks were so attentive and easy to talk to. And this was so hard. But he has to; he can't let glossophobia win.]

"...Um...excuse me..."

[None heard the meek mouse. They carried on their chatter and revelry. He tried a few more times to no avail. Perhaps he should've learned the Thaumaturgy cantrip instead. The entire tavern would've paid attention then. Or would that be a misuse of divine power?

This isn't working. He'd have to raise his voice with all his might for any hope of response. He swallowed, trusting in the Good to see him through. He breathed deeply, then exploded in his squeaky, shrill way.]

"EXCUSE ME! I, M-M-Mannix, a cleric of The Good, huh-humbly request..."

[That was as far as he got. One woman shrieked and jutted from the table. He'd never understood the fear of mice; his species aren't dangerous. Heads turned. Ambient noise vanished. One baritone exclaimed.]

"A talking mouse?"
"Mayhaps; prolly just a wizard's familiar having a laugh."
"Haha, bloody Hells! The Church is usin' vermin now? Soon enough me own dog will start preachin' 'bout the glory o' tha Goodness."

[Mannix wasn't used to bawdy comedy, much less being its butt.]

"Please, I ask for any whose talents lie in the field--"
"Haha, that voice! Have you ever heard such piping in your life?"
"Bah, I still say 's a trick. Either I've been drinking too much, or thas' a gnome illusionist's work. Ain't they good with, uh, woodland critters 'n such?"

[The theory begged investigation. In moments he was jabbed with a curious finger, and the robe he wore over his armor was lifted.]

"Haha, no, that's real! It's armored like a cleric, thas' for sure. Come get a look at this teensy armor! What dwarf's behind that? I know The Church is mad for converts; never thought they'd start ordinatin' bloody mice!"

"The word is ordain. But please, this is no laughing matter--"

[But his voice, shrunk by anxiety, was crowded out by just that: roaring laughter. His master told him to expect mockery; the faithful didn't always receive reverence. He hung his head and wished to crawl into a hole just the same. How was he ever going to become a worthy adventurer at this rate?]

2. Here be Goblins (OTA)

[youfool]

[It was a simple, if vague quest: escort a wagon of supplies to a trading post in an upstart settlement. The dwarf who hired them only said he'd found "something big", owing to a recent inheritance of land. 10 gold pieces per person for seeing them safely through.

It was, in retrospect, an idiotic quest for a thrill-seeker like Ted. Wisdom might've saved him from a mission whose success could be measured in dangers that didn't happen. He tried to do his bardic duty anyway, but before he sang a single limerick, the coachman hushed him. They had to be inconspicuous. Unless he could keep the volume beneath the level of the spokes, then silence was preferred.

Phooey. Nonetheless, he persevered, quietly regaling with stories of heroic pluck. Like Despereaux, one about a brave mouse narrowly escaping a wicked kingdom's clutches. And if they didn't like that, he has plenty of ethnic jokes. How many elves does it take to light a lantern?

Anything to wile away the hours. A few days were spent along the High Road, one safe and well traveled. Then they veered on the Triboar Trail, one that winded between forests to the north and mountains to the south. The change in scenery was nice; the change in drama was nicer. After half a day's travel, Ted got his wish.

Two dead horses blocked the path, each jutting with black-feathered arrows. Ted, who'd walked alongside the wagon for exercise, couldn't resist curiosity.]

Alas, two slain beasts of burden, dying most inconveniently in our way.

[Almost like it was deliberate, or something. He went closer to investigate. Once he did, more arrows of similar make flew to greet him. Thankfully, good karma preserved him as one barely went overhead.]

We're under attack! To arms!

[He said joyfully. Finally, some action! He unsheathed his rapier and ran towards the arrow's path, eager to meet their foes in glorious melee.]

Winter Schnee | RWBY

[specialist_snowflake]

7. Inconvenient Weather

[It's a terrible night for a storm, but a wonderful excuse to be indoors huddled up by the fire, eating a hot meal, or laughing over a bawdy story. Only a fool would be outside in this tempest that whips the waves and lashes the windows with a pelting sideways rain. Lightning dances in the clouds, and briefly illuminates the haggard, limping figure struggling up the muddy path to reach the cozy harbor inn.]

[The door bangs open. The young woman standing there is garbed in a thin cotton gown, frayed at the hem where it falls to her knees. It's plastered to her skin and dripping with rainwater, as is the white hair that clings to her pale cheek and throat. Numerous small cuts pepper her arms and legs, her feet streaked with oozing mud, and her entire body is shivering. But her steel blue eyes are hard, and the way she lifts her chin, demands respect. She holds herself with regal bearing despite her pitiful appearance.]

I am in need of an escort.

[She takes a step further inside in a way that hints she favors her left foot over the right, but doesn't even so much as glance at the fire. Her eyes are on the patrons instead.]

Payment for safe transport will be generous, and given upon delivery.


3. Town Festival

[Traveling with Winter is likely taxing, to say the least. She's serious, harsh, and seems to have no qualms about keeping people at arm's length (sometimes literally). There's a destination she intends to reach and she's willing to pull her own weight in keeping watch, cooking meals (even if she's not good at it, she's demanded to be taught so that this can be amended), and she doesn't flinch from battle. She's loyal and has the back of each teammate. She's just not...you know...pleasant.]

[What a change it is, then, to see the wide-eyed wonder when the party sets foot in the small farming community where a large pole has been hoisted up, decorated with colorful streamers and clusters of spring flowers. Great bushels of early season vegetables are hauled out, and the air is rich with the smell of baked bread and sweets. People are laughing, dancing, listening to piping music and clapping hands to keep a steady rhythm.]

[Winter has seen nothing like it, and gapes inelegantly.]

What's the matter, Schnee, never been to a party?

[Winter jolts back to attention at the laughing remark. She doesn't blush, for she's not embarrassed. Just surprised at herself.]

Nothing like this, no. It's very...energetic.

[Tea parties are meant to be quiet and formal affairs. Balls are less quiet, but still formal affairs. This festival actually looks fun.]

Are we staying, or passing through?

[She's doing her best to keep her usual mask of noble indifference in place, but there's longing in her voice, and she can't stop staring at the festivities.]

[OOC: Winter's got a Character Workshop link here! I'm happy to come up with ideas for pre-game CR, or to carry over any CR from this meme into the game itself. Also, if neither option up above fits your character, I'm happy to go with a different scenario of your choosing.]

5. So You Purposely Unsealed a Force of Evil - OTA

[aryte]

[Thunderstorms really shouldn't be happening in the middle of winter. Nonetheless, lightning streaked between ominous, dark clouds above the grasslands. On the ground, a coven of cultists chanted, surrounded by a formation of sandstone, all deliberately arranged in the form of an evil god's (un)holy symbol.

Their instructions for the Sellscales were two: get them as much blood and as many humanoid sacrifices as possible, then stand guard while they worked their unholy rite. What happens once they finish?

Aryte doesn't know and doesn't care. All he knows is that the pay is good, and if the cultists are right, the fiends from the Lower Planes will arrive with a lot more.]

A. Swallowed Whole
The cultists had planned this during a popular pilgrimage proceeding along a nearby path. Smart; religious sacrifices are more effective for the ritual. So, Aryte shifted into the form of a gigantic, subterranean lizard. Like a komodo dragon on steroids. He approaches one--OR YOU--, then bites to swallow whole. Not to consume, mind, but to deliver to the cultists personally. Fend off this beast, or fight your way from the inside out!

B. Carve a Path
Once they were satisfied with what they're brought, they depended on the Sellscales to buy time enough until they completed the ritual. That meant dozens of Lizardfolk camouflaged among the grasslands, ready to strike any who approached. They were armed with clubs and bone javelins, and where they weren't, hunter's traps were.

Aryte flies overhead in the form of a quetzocoatlus. Flying dinosaur, for the laymen. Just in case anyone tries to get fresh and take to the skies to bypass his forces entirely. And if he spots a particularly appealing brawl taking place below, what better way to swoop down and join in?

And if any of his forces die, well, they'll make for good sacrifices too.

C. Evil Unsealed
Alas, the cultist's work finished. A booming, malevolent voice rippled across the Grasslands. What is your desire?, the demonic baritone asked.

"Oh, wealth! Wealth unending!"

The Lower Planes had a sense of humor. Through a dark portal stepped a blue slaad; a large frog-faced creature who immediately went to tearing through the cultists in a bloody spree. Where, the cultists cried, was their wealth? In the control gem in the slaad's brain, of course. All they had to do was take it.

While it's tempting to enjoy the comeuppance, take care. Those infected by the slaad's disease will become slaad's themselves. It spreads through physical contact, and takes effect upon the victim's death. The cultists, it seems, are eminently qualified.