TEST DRIVE MEME

[fairyfoes]

TEST DRIVE MEME

Considering apping to EACHDRAIDH? Why not give the setting a test run here! OPTIONAL SCENARIOS 01. ARRIVING IN THE DRABWURLD. The grand feast is held in the Eaglais clearing. The food is good, the music is sweet, and the evening is lit by gentle fairy lights. All Shardbearers of all courts are summoned here under a universal truce for the evening. Nature itself has shaped itself into tables, chairs, and long couches so that the new guests can rest. When they’re ready to call it a night, Shardbearers are brought to their court strongholds in a one-way trip by fairies and imps. 02. NETWORK Take advantage of your Locket! The network can be accessed by any Shardbearer with a locket or shardless characters with enchanted devices, and is a quick way to meet new people and discuss the state of the world. 03. WILDCARD. Your own scenario! Explore the Drabwurld! There are lots of places to go, and plenty of trouble to get into in them!

Comments

feasting

[unnatural_animal]

I wouldn't try that if I were you. [Richard, helpful as ever, is watching from a safe distance with a faintly smug expression. His own initial feast and its accompanying confusion are long gone. By now he is an old hand (or something near enough) and can spend his time feeling superior rather than lost.]

You won't win. They're quicker than you. And less wine-soaked.

[ignobly]

( In his mind, such smugness smacks of Rome, despite the fact that it's an expression he himself has worn many times. What he despises is being on the receiving end of it, as he remembers the cold, arrogant way that Roman officer had looked when he'd collected him that day on the steppe. Had there been a mist clinging to the ground that day? With a mind addled by the influence of ale, he can't quite recall. )

Last I looked, I hadn't asked the help for advice. ( Lancelot is being deliberately difficult, and he revels in it. His opinion shifts back to the imps, as he reaches back and draws his second blade. Who says he plans on killing the buggers, anyway? There's still pieces of Saxon clinging to his gear, he'll warrant.

He thinks, until a piece of venison lands squarely upon his cheek. That's it. The imps have declared war, and Lancelot twists his blades about in his hands skilfully, moving forward to strike—only to be struck from behind by something mushy and hot. He growls, as his ire mounts. )

What are they?

[unnatural_animal]

Devils in miniature. [Richard could possibly be more helpful. He isn't. He could possibly explain a bit better. Why bother? The other man will learn soon enough the place's ways and besides, he's always been a fan of learning on your feet. There's no teacher like experience.

He watches as another well-aimed missile flies at the other man from another direction. Serves him right. Two swords does seem a little excessive.]

Believe it or not they used to be worse. When I arrived it was because they'd somehow managed to drag me here.