ASGARD GENESIS - TEST DRIVE #1

[asgardmods]

the test drive meme. ❧ let's do this. Anyone can post to the test drive meme, including duplicates! Please put your character name and canon in the title of your comment. All threads are considered open to everyone! Tag around and make some friends (or enemies)! If you decide to apply to the game, you can use your TDM threads for your app samples! You only need to provide seven comments if you use TDM samples. You can't be "late" to a TDM! This will be considered open until the next one goes live next month. You can make up your own scenario, interact with one of the locations in the game, use the welcome process of your character selecting a god house, or use our optional prompt below! You do not need to pick a god house to play on the TDM! You can have your character still in the process of discussing/deciding/despairing instead. If you are accepted to the game, you can keep TDM threads as game canon as long as you fudge some of the details depending on your original thread. If you aren't sure exactly how to do this, you can always ask a mod. Reserves open on May 25 at 12:01AM PST and close on May 31 at 11:59PM PST. Applications open on June 1 at 12:01AM PST and close on June 7 at 11:59PM PST. Please always feel free to contact the mods if you have any questions! Have fun, dear (future?) Wanderers. ♥ ❧ optional scenario. As you enter Asgard proper, many of the natives have gathered into curious crowds to greet these mysterious children of the World Tree. Some of them carry baskets of flowers and nervously offer one to any Wanderers that come near. They are vibrant and colorful, picked from the wilds surrounding Asgard, and they might have an odd effect on your character if they sniff the flowers directly. Purple flowers will make your character very giggly and easily amused by everything they see and hear. Orange flowers will make your character feel very warm all over, like the sun is beating down on them directly. Blue flowers will make your character somewhat short and impatient with anything that seems like even a minor inconvenience to them. Effects of the flowers can wear off anywhere between a few minutes to an hour. And for those new to Asgard, this scenario aligns with some of the general curses we might have in the game! navigation.

Comments

Jon Snow | Game of Thrones | Heimdall

[northerndragon]

{One}
They call him a wanderer.

Time was, it would have been laughable: Jon had meant to live out his days at the Wall, defending it, seeing only the coldest corner of the world. No wandering save what the Night’s Watch asked of him. Of late, though, out of necessity, he has been down and up and down and up the coast again, to Dragonstone and Eastwatch and the capital.

He hasn’t seen many cities; his day in King’s Landing was more than enough to suit him. Still, he’s almost certain they don’t usually look like this. Some things look familiar, but much of this is alien. And he may seem alien to some, too, in his heavy fur-collared cloak, his leather brigandine, his steel gorget. He has dark hair pulled back in a knot, scars over both of his eyes, and a low voice with a strong Northern accent.

a. In Heimdall’s district, he visits the armory of the barracks, takes off his cloak and his own sword belt, picks up an Asgard-made sword, and takes it out to a training yard it to test its weight and balance. His moves are fast, and more efficient than flashy, but at one point he spins the blade so deftly that it’s hard to see where the motion begins and ends. Soon after, he looks over at anyone watching, and asks, ”Are you trained to the sword?”

If you’re not, and you want to be, he might be the man.

b. There are stables in Honir’s district, so he visits them in the hope of finding some sort of mount — maybe not today, but one day. Stables, at least, are familiar, when so much else here is new.

Or so he thinks, until he sees the horses.

”Seven hells.” His mouth turns down. ”That’s enough legs for two horses. Do they look like that where you come from?”

c. He’s been told there’s a place for food, something like an inn or a tavern, in Njord’s district, but he can’t find it, and it wouldn’t be hard to see that he’s lost. He approaches a passer-by with a polite frown, but no hesitation. “I hate to trouble you. I’ve heard there might be a seller of ale hereabouts, but...” His little shrug is apologetic. “Can’t find it. Do you know the way?”

It’s not far.

{Two. please specify flower color!}

d. Jon doesn’t know what a museum is. A place to look at things, to learn about them? It seems to be, and what few people are around seem to be doing just that — quietly.

Purple: He’s unable to be so quiet: maybe he shouldn’t be here at all. He’s an easygoing man, but he doesn’t laugh much; it’s strange that what he sees in the museum should amuse him so. He stands looking at some object, trying to understand its purpose, and of a sudden, it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen.

Orange: Or he begins to feel hot, like he’s been standing for hours by a fire in high summer. He starts by turning red, sweating; soon his cloak is draped over his arm, then the cloak is draped over something else and immediately slides to the ground while he fiddles with the buckles on his gorget, which aren’t an easy reach. He casts a pleading look at anyone nearby. He’s wearing too much Northern armor to have much tolerance to heat.

Blue: Jon often seems like his mood is worse than it is: it’s the look he has, the same one that made people think he was sullen when he was a boy. At the moment, he really is sullen, scowling at a display case in disgust. ”This whole place is only fit for maesters and septons.” The way he says it, the way he glowers.. well, anyone can tell it’s not a high opinion.

{Three.}

[Wild card! Apply any of the flower colors to the first set of prompts to get something like Jon angrily seeking the restaurant or stripping off garments in the middle of testing the swords, or hit me up with something else that Jon might see while poking around the city. You can reach me on the Discord server (I’m Elizabeth), at detectivefiction, or via PM.]

1a

[sanityinruins]

"No, but I have other ways to defend myself," Ye Zun replies, lips curling up in amusement. He was familiar with the way the man dressed and moved; it reminded him of the forces he spent a lot of his life surrounded by, and while he hated it, it was also something familiar.

In this place, familiar was a good thing.

"I am willing to spar with you, if you're willing to forgive my lack of weapons."

[northerndragon]

The man is taller than Jon by at least the width of a hand, he can tell that much. His face has a look that is unfamiliar in Westeros, but that Jon has already noticed in some of the other Wanderers about Asgard.

Jon is dubious at the request. “How do you defend yourself? I’m willing, but it might not be good to fight an unarmed man.”

Better to stay with this sword and not fetch Longclaw, he decides. It’s much lighter and sharper, and has a longer reach, and he doesn’t want to kill anyone in what should be a friendly training bout.

[sanityinruins]

"With my hands," he replied, as if it was self-explanatory. He may not be on Haixing any more, but surely this human has seen people who fought without steel.

Ye Zun was always ready to defend, even in sleep. So he didn't make any great showing of shifting his weight or slapping his hands together. Such things were just show in any case, and ones that he felt only a fool wasted time with. Instead, he just smiles slightly raising a hand in the universal gesture of 'come hither' and waited.

b!!

[asgardsflight]

"Well - yes!" Because he is from here, but Honir doesn't quite go so far as to explain that immediately. Jon may or may not recognize him from his entrance into the city - the god was wandering around handing out flowers at the time, so he very easily may have been otherwise distracted - but the stables are a special place to him and he seems eager enough to answer Jon's questions, as well as incredibly curious to ask his own.

"These are the only horses we have, I think maybe even anywhere in the world! What do yours look like at home?"

Please tell him everything about home, Honir looks absolutely starry eyed at the idea of learning!

[northerndragon]

Time was when Jon knew a septon who was too fond of wine. Past that, he counts Samwell Tarly as more of a brother than a friend. All of which is to say that Honir doesn’t seem as strange as he otherwise might... and where else would the god be but in his own stables?

“They have four legs,” Jon says, blankly, watching one of the animals move about in its stall. “They look like this, but their legs are more like a dog’s than a spider’s.” Then, “This is what you think a horse should look like?”

It raises a question: what does Honir think a dog should look like?

[asgardsflight]

Honir keeps his friendly gaze locked on Jon as he speaks, blinking curiously and eager to see what Jon does when he says such fascinating words like "dogs" and "spiders". He could look, of course, but he'd much rather ask instead. Jon's question makes him grin and shrug haplessly. "They look like whatever the Mother wants them to look like! I guess they lost a few legs on the way to your world, though."

As though that's any reasonable way to explain the multiverse, honestly.

1a

[foughtvaliantly]

A blade was a beautiful thing, but it never compared to his harp or books. Whatever need he saw in learning, he preferred the days that his sword stayed sheathed at his side. Still, like most men, he was curious about the steel that could be made. He wasn't fond of too much ornamentation, but there were some that were pleasant to look at.

But the swords couldn't hold his focus for long. The young man brandishing his weapon was difficult to miss, not simply for his skill but look as well. There was the unmistakable trait of the Starks about him, as well as the accent. He could see Eddard Stark in his features, the same dark hair and solemn eyes. If they weren't in a different realm, he might make assumptions, but it was difficult here.

He was drawn from his thoughts by the question and chose a sword for himself. "I was trained as a boy, but training and passion are different matters."

[northerndragon]

The look of the man who speaks to him troubles Jon.

He’s heard that sometimes the Lyseni have the look of Old Valyria, the same look that Daenerys has. Like as not, in this place, the man isn’t anything Jon thinks he could be. He’s from some other place and time, and it’s mere happenstance that he has the same strange silver-gold hair, the wide eyes. Girls would find him handsome; Sansa would have sighed over him, once. But those days are past.

“Aye, training and passion are two different matters. All men have to be ready to fight, but some don’t like it. I have a friend who would rather be in a library than anywhere near a blade.”

Jon’s gorget, with two facing direwolves, reflects the sun.

“This one has a good balance.” He moves to set the sword back in the rack he’d taken it from.

1b (timepoint is end of 7x06)

[stormborned]

Beside him in Honir's stables, Dany spies a silver mare — one that reminds her a little too painfully of the one that was gifted to her on her wedding day, to Khal Drogo. There's a major difference, though, between this one and the one she rode to wed on the Great Grass Sea; the number of legs, for one.

Still, she has so little fear that she steps close enough to rest her hand on the mare's nose, turning back to Jon with a smirk. "So you won't ride, simply for that aesthetic reason, alone?"

[northerndragon]

“I didn’t say that.”

He might have implied it. But the horse itself seems docile enough, as much as any horse is.

With a look back at her, a little teasing, he adds, “Riding a horse with eight legs would be nothing compared to a dragon.”

i promised you trash

[dorzalta]

She's never heard of a museum before. Reason enough, she thinks, to explore it. Perhaps it would offer them more of an answer as to why they're here (though that's doubtful, seeing as the tale they've been told is disappointing and vague), or how they can return home. Or, it's something to do.

What's in this place is a marvel to look at, and look she does. For a moment, she forgets she's standing with Jon, so absorbed she is with a piece of artwork. The sound of buckles draws her eye away from the piece and to Jon, who--

"What are you doing?" A step closer, then a few more, as she bends down to pick up his cloak, "Are you all right?"

[northerndragon]

He waves his hand in front of his face, trying to make it cooler.

“It’s bloody hot in here.” He rubs at his neck, at the leather cowl that covers it and protects it from the metal of his armor. Then he looks at her, as if just noticing her in his discomfort, and adds, “—You don’t look hot.”

c

[nineteenfortyfive]

When Claire sees a young man clearly approaching her, she hopes he's not about to ask for directions because she's lost. How one can be lost without having a destination in mind is impressive, but she feels adrift, and offers an apologetic smile in return.

"I don't, but that sounds like a good idea."

Better than roaming the streets and districts asking for her redheaded daughter. She hasn't given up, but Christ, she's tired.

But one more won't hurt.

"I've been looking for my daughter. I don't think she's here."

So, ale it is.

"I'll help you look. I think you'll be more fortunate."

[northerndragon]

The woman is older, and she looks of an age to have a daughter, but little about her reminds him of Lady Stark, and that made her easier to approach. He falls in step with her as they walk in some direction -- any direction. The tavern is around here somewhere. It must be.

"I haven't seen anyone who looks like you," he says, apologetic. "What's her name? I'm Jon Snow."

two, blue

[needsnoheadsman]

There’s a sudden explosion of giggles just behind Jon, and if he whips around he’ll see his long-dead brother attempting to cover his burst of laughter with a hand and a clearly fake coughing fit. He’d been hoping to—well, he doesn’t know what he’d been hoping to do with Jon, but giggling at his sullen look is not one of them.

But. Well. Look at him. He’s like an unhappy puppy!

Anyway, Robb has to stop himself from snickering again, because he really has missed Jon, quite a lot. He manages a smile, though, small and real. “Then let’s get out of here,” he says, “head somewhere else.” No preamble, no hello Jon you look older how’s life treating you, just—an offer for company. Slightly giggly company.

[northerndragon]

The laughter makes the hair on the back of Jon's neck stand to attention. It's so familiar, and -- Robb. It's Robb.

So when he turns, dressed in all the sort of gear that you might expect for the King in the North, Jon looks at Robb in wonder. "Gods, but I'm glad to see you, Stark," he says, with great feeling. And then his annoyance overtakes him again, and he becomes more stern. "But I'm only going with you if you stop acting the boy."

That's not true; part of him wants to rush to his brother and embrace him. But it would be better if Robb would stop laughing like a fool.

1a, i'm sorry to add to your tag load!

[confier]

She's there for a sword of her own, just in case — but she halts to watch him train. He spins the blade like one who considers it more of an extension of himself than a separate weapon. His confidence reminds her of Aramis, even if that's where the similarities end; she supposes he must be just as good with a sword as Aramis is with a musket.

When he pauses, looks to her and speaks, she smiles wryly and shakes her head.

"Not enough. It's not something women do, where I'm from." And from her tone, it's obvious she's deeply unhappy with that fact.

don't be! <3

[northerndragon]

He notices the young woman watching him. His intent isn't to show off, only to see for himself the quality of Asgard's armaments, so when she answers him, he brings the sword down to his side and approaches her.

"Not something women do where I'm from, either." His expression is friendly. "But we aren't there now, and women have need of defense just as much as men do."

He moves the sword to his other hand and holds his dominant hand out in greeting. "I'm Jon Snow."

1c.

[ikols]

There's a tavern but they sell no ale, there or anywhere else in this realm. At least, not that I've seen, and I've been getting around ... It's the most curious drought.

[ Sorry to break the news about the lack of alcohol; he'd have liked a cider himself. The horned man shrugs apologetically, scalemail gleaming in the sunshine like the breast of a snake. ]

I know where to find a decent enough meal, if that suffices.

I feel like the first line of this tag could be an entire personality page for Jon.

[northerndragon]

[Jon sighs, looking tired.]

No ale. [Well, that's a dismal prospect. He takes in his new acquaintance's attire; it reminds him a little of what his father used to tell him about Robert Baratheon's armor on the Trident, when the dead king had worn a helm that was antlered like the stag of his house's sigil.]

It's good enough for me. What sort of food have you found?

1b

[antigene]

"Only the mutated ones," Ellie easily answers. "Why? Do these ones freak you out? Better hoof it, before they jockey for position to come kick your ass." Horse puns are her current favorite thing as of thirty seconds ago. So she really has to go all out here.

She's at the stables just to look around. Horses are great because they don't talk and expect her to discuss things like emotions or where she's going to be staying while she's stuck here. She really appreciates the fact the horses here are weird looking. It just fits in with how dreamlike it is to be here. Nothing really feels real yet. Not even this conversation does. It's too light and teasing to feel like being here is a serious thing.

[northerndragon]

"Hoof it? Funny." He does sound mildly amused, but the rest of the puns go over his head... in all honesty, he doesn't understand most of what she said. Some of it didn't even sound like the common tongue.

He considers the girl. She's young, younger than Arya would be now, and while he's not sure that this girl reminds him of his sister, he does think that Arya might have a keen appreciation for a jest about horses that isn't Sansa and her friends comparing her to one.

"You like horses?"

1a

[so_dark_a_road]

In the armory, Curufin leans against a wall and watches the dark-haired man practice his moves. That man is unquestionably a superior swordsman. It is a pleasure to watch him, and it is hopeful to think that such men might fight at his side, if there is any fighting to be done in Asgard. Which Curufin expects there will be. There is always a war, everywhere, sooner or later.

The Elf is all in black, black armor, black clothing, and his sword is sheathed in a black-and-silver scabbard. His shoulder-length hair is jet black and his eyes are a luminous dark gray, and those eyes are curious and profoundly alive.

"Oh yes, I'm trained to the sword. And clearly, so are you! Have you been in this strange place long? I've just arrived."

1a

[widow_of_the_crag]

It wasn't that she was drawn to the weapons as much as an overall curiosity with the world she found herself in. Every district she felt the need to peruse, if only to become acquainted and more at ease with her surroundings. Certain places were easier as the stalls could distract her, offering a look at the different items that, while similar to her world, were different as well.

The man was handsome, but not someone she would recognize. The accent however was more familiar than anything else. Robb spoke like him. She swallowed, trying to banish the memories, if only to spare herself the tears in front of a stranger. His question made her smile at least. "No, ladies don't use swords where I am from."