thetube | Test Drive Meme: August-September 2017

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Welcome to the Underground test drive meme! This is where you can try out the AU version of your character, start some potential CR and get a feel for the world of the game. Choose your character's species, read up on the available factions and you're ready to go. Put your character's name in your subject line when you post, tag out, and have fun!

Note to potential players: Looking for an OOC space to brainstorm your AU? Head over to our permanent character workshop post to ask for feedback and share ideas.

Note to current players: Activity in this meme counts as game canon! So you can use it for activity check. If you end up playing anything that you can't or don't want to use as game canon, it's fine to ignore it. (In that case you shouldn't submit it for activity check.)

Here are some prompts to inspire you:

1) WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE. Welcome to London! It's time to introduce yourself to your faction, to your fellow supernatural citizens, would-be friends, potential enemies... Will people quake with fear or awe when you enter the room? Or are you some nobody trying to make a name for yourself? Either way, gotta start networking.

2) THE RACE IS ON. The competition within your faction is even worse than the competition outside. That guy over there has turned sucking up to your boss into an art form. What about the woman who works out at 5am every morning and can probably punch through a wall? If you want to climb the ladder, you'd better start working harder.

3) THE WRONG DIRECTION. It's a big city and it's easy to get lost. Normally that's not such a big deal, but this time you've taken a wrong turn and ended up in hostile territory. If you're spotted by the wrong person, you could be in for a seriously bad time. Is there anyone around who can help?

4) NEVER LOSE CONTROL. You had one drink... or two... Maybe it's almost the full moon, or maybe there's some magic in the air messing with your hormones, but you're this close to going all out with your fangs or your claws or your magic. You need to get out of here, fast.

5) SWING IT, SHAKE IT. You've got a disco ball, a killer outfit and music so loud you can feel it pumping through the dance floor. Show the humans how it's done.

6) KARAOKE. It's karaoke night in one of London's favourite supernatural bars and that tone-deaf werewolf is hogging the mike again.

7) RUN AROUND. It seemed simple, right? One errand to run, just one. And yet the world seems to be conspiring against you. Your alarm didn't go off, you missed the bus or train, you got caught in traffic, someone spilled their drink on your brand new leather jacket, you tripped over and literally fell headfirst into a dumpster... Oh, God. Could this day get any worse?

8) CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE. Anything goes.

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1) WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE.

When Max arrives in town, her name is nowhere found in lights—which is not to say she goes entirely unnoticed. Before she even shoes her face in person, her aliases appear on several leases. A laundromat here. A coffee shop there. A small office building two blocks over. A six unit tenement building with narrow halls and in need of a new roof. Her contacts in her own court spread the news quietly. To the Seelie, it's no surprise when she finally makes her appearance on the scene.

Outside of the Seelie, though, who would even know her? Who would recognize the false names she uses? Who would know to question the sources of her capital as she invests it here, deposits it there, spends it yet another place? Perhaps there are a few. Those who knew her elsewhere, in other times. Those whose paths or purposes have crossed hers before. Still, she is new to London, and while she has been of late pressing her position within her own court, she has little reputation to be known by.

Either way, Max is here now and it is time to introduce herself. She's not an imposing woman physically, small and fey and lovely, but she carries herself like a queen as she approaches her target. "Hello," she says, her creole accent nearly swallowing the h entirely. "I don't think we've met. I am called Max."

Somehow, how she says it, there seems to be another message left unsaid in the air: "And I have a proposition for you."

8) CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE.

Go wild!

Why is this woman bothering him?

Joscelin looks up at the person invading his space with an expression of clear disgust. He hasn't had his coffee yet, poor dear, and it's always too early when you're a naturally nocturnal creature still trying to get used to daylight after more than a century in the dark.

"Well done. Shall I get you a medal?"

When she mentions a proposition, he pauses.

"And what might that be?"

"I am new to the city. I have few friends." This is a risk. Of course, it is always a risk to reach out to players in a new setting, and doubly so when the player is a vampire and one known for his instability, but it is not Max's first time and she doubts it will be her last.

There is no success without risk.

"We do not know each other, but I know of you. You might find that I am a valuable friend to have, not least in a city feeling so unfriendly of late."

Glamour. Jane's developed a bit of a sixth sense for it, a kind of electric geosmium scent and feeling. It makes her heart thud against her ribcage. The ex-changeling is good at concealing fear though, so she keeps palms, now damp from more than just the fog, in the pockets of her windbreaker. She's grown up as a lone human servant to these regal, proud beings but a near lifetime's exposure has never made them less intimidating, no matter how familiar.

The young witch raises an eyebrow, trying for her best 'are you just wasting my time?' look, usually reserved for street hustlers.

"Jane."

Max accepts that look in part because she sees through it, sees the hint of understanding behind it and the caution and she knows where it comes from. What is more... she most likely deserves it. What she offers, she offers in good faith, but being wary fairy gifts is only wisdom.

"It is good to meet you, Jane." Her smile doesn't waver. "You're a part of the local coven, are you not? A witch. Or do I have you wrong?"

"Found me out. I've gotta find out who's putting my name out there."

A sardonic grin, but she's not really joking. She can't tell if Max is Seelie or Unseelie, but if she's the latter she probably wouldn't have bothered with an introduction. If a Seelie fae wants something from her...Well, they have a common enemy at least. That doesn't make her any less dangerous though.

"I'm afraid my sources must remain secret. You understand how it is. If one wishes to keep hearing things, then one must keep one's ears." Max smiles, her tone is smooth and sweet and warm, and utterly reasonable. "Have no fear. It is nothing but mutual friends. Friends who want the best for both of us."

Jane is understandably on her guard. But, if a fae wants something from her...well, that means they're going to use it against another fae. Which means more suffering for the Fair Folk as a whole, as their rivalries tend to be cruel. Good.

"In that case, what can a witch do for one of your kind?"

She hazards a guess that it's the projects she was involved in while she was a servant. Humans are good for many things when kept on a short leash, she knows: their natural resistance to some kinds of magic and ability to handle cold iron make them good cat's paws for a vengeful noble.

Who would notice indeed? Except another fae, perhaps, who does exactly the same thing. Properties are sold near constantly in London, a sudden string of purchases raise no eyebrows, it's one of many things which make London so very appealing to anyone with enough money to pour into a city with rents on the constant rise.

A string of purchases tied to names that lead nowhere, however, is exactly the sort of thing Eames notices, the sort of things his contacts keep him abreast of. Nine times out of ten, it means there's a new immortal laying down roots.

Being approached by this fae could be entirely unrelated, but by the way she carries herself he'd hazard not, and he smiles in greeting. "Not Ms Mary Keye?" He asks, hedging his bets on one of the aliases that had come his way.

His reaction gives her a moment of pause. She had not hoped her movements within this city would go entirely unmarked, but she had thought perhaps to remain more anonymous a while longer. However now it seems at least one, and likely more, have been exposed.

It seems she will have to have this conversation on more even terms. She shouldn't frown about this being fair.

"Do I look like a Mary to you?" she asks, two seconds too late to not reveal that he's right. "Just Max. It's better that way. Especially if we're going to talk business."

Flint had quietly been in the process of acquiring a number of small businesses upon his arrival in London. He'd of course expected some level of competition in this endeavor, but he found himself pitted again and again against the same mystery buyer. Irritating, to say the least.

When diminutive opponent finally makes her entrance on the scene, small and fey and lovely and carrying a world of best forgotten memories around her like an invisible cloak that only he can see, he is struck dumb.

He'd never had the occasion to talk to her directly, but those once closest to him held her in the highest regard. This much he knew. He isn't quite certain why her presence would shock him so, but it does. Not so much her per se, but all she represents, with her delicate creole accent, her small frame, and so much of Nassau in her...

He's taken aback, and he stares at her for a long, quiet moment, bitter memories washing over him at the mere sight of her.

"You're right. We've never been formally introduced, you and I, have we?"

This may be a mistake, but no greater mistake than leaving Flint at her back would have been. The pair of them had been part of a great dance, swept up and whirling in a course of events which they both tried to lead and yet which too often remained well out of their control. It was a dance during which they had many times stepped on one another's toes.

Very well then. If Max is to misstep, she will at least make her stumbles new ones.

There is only a brief pause, a moment where in she looks up at the vampire in all his imposing indignation. Then she squares her shoulders, tilts her head, purses her lips.

"An oversight, I assure you. One which ought to have been corrected long ago. Now it seems may be an opportunity to right that old mistake. And, perhaps, others."

Test Drive Meme: August-September 2017

Max | Black Sails | Seelie Fae

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