test drive meme #1

[historiadores]

TDM #1

LA LLEGADA

The Museum of Art and History is the largest and oldest in Llave, and contains a grand collection spanning from the time the first humans landed on its shores to the modern day. The building encircles an open courtyard where an art installation sits amidst many of the plants important to the settlers of Llave. Behind the museum is a wide, shallow field of hard-packed dirt lined by large stones, the petroglyphs on their surface worn by time—the earliest known playing field in all of the Caribbean. And further out are the areas where excavations are ongoing, uncovering the pottery, jewelry and artifacts of the ancestors.

After awakening, things move quickly. The museum is closed, and the characters ushered into the courtyard to wait. Any needing emergency medical attention are kept in one of the air conditioned galleries until the paramedics arrive. A group of women with a military bearing take charge of the situation; identified as the Bajari Bara, they question the healthy and able. They cede authority only to the Prime Minister when she arrives. Two more of their group flank the nation's leader, though they step aside when she begins to walk among the new arrivals to speak with them.

Each side has many questions and few answers. Characters are informed they are in Llave. It's October 2020. And efforts will be made to return them to their homes. But how they came to be here and why remain mysteries…as does how they’ll find their way back.

A hurricane shelter nearby is activated for use by the recent arrivals. There, characters are provided with food and clothing, a cot and other basic supplies. No one is allowed out, but through the windows they can see the lush green of the their surroundings. At night, coquí sing them to sleep. Those taken to a hospital will remain there until they are discharged. Each patient is allowed one visitor to stay with them overnight.

Over the next several days, all characters undergo physical and mental evaluations; are provided with their first immunizations; have the next legal steps explained to them; and are taught about Llave. Every character, regardless of age, has a caseworker who checks in with them daily. None have been arrested, they are assured. But they must also complete the quarantine process. To enforce quarantine, at both the hospital and the shelter, the Bajari Bara guard every entrance and exit.

Welcome to Llave.

EL AREYTO

As luck would have it, around the time quarantine ends, all of Llave is in the midst of celebration. Today is the Day of Heroes, celebrated every last weekend in October, which this year happens to fall on the eve of All Saints’ Day. So when the new arrivals venture out for the first time, Nona, the capital, welcomes them with color and music.

The people of Llave have a special love for music and dance, and it shows. All day, groups gather to play, and many more to dance. The songs center around heroes of Llave with the chief of these being Nuna, a beloved figure who is said to have led her people here to freedom. Those performing wear traditional clothes: guayaberas, long circle skirts, palm hats and headwraps, all brightly colored.

From early morning, artisans have set up under tents tables laden with goods. Clothing, jewelry, musical instruments, paintings, and more made from leather and wood, seashells and fish scales, aluminum and copper. Many create right at the table. Most popular are those working on cemís: sculptural objects, said to house the spirits of ancestors. Many carry them as amulets especially on this the eve to the days of the dead.

The food is equally rich and one of the cooks takes an interest in the new arrivals. Those who eat his food find their mood changing depending on what they ate. The tostones he prepared while speaking of his childhood home in Santa Cecilia bring on feelings of joy and contentment. The alcapurrias fried while arguing with a customer about last night’s wrestling match cause those who eat them to feel irritated. And the casabe, a flatbread made of cassava, that he explains he learned to make from his wife who passed, induces a profound nostalgia for lost loves. His wife, recognizable from the photo he keeps on the wall, sits beside those most affected and comforts them until the melancholy passes.

More dead can be found. An old man in a fine guayabera recalls composing the lyrics to a particular song. He points out the man playing the congas and proudly says his great-grandson will soon outplay him. When characters look back to the old man, he’s gone. Those with a sense for it will recognize many dead walking among the living. These next few days honor and celebrate the departed, and the dead have seized the rare opportunity to join the festivities once more.

For those who prefer the sea, the impossibly blue waters of the Caribbean are just a short walk away. Cobblestone and concrete paths line La Bahía de Nona. On one of the larger rock outcroppings jutting into the bay sits a silver-white dog. If called, he will trot over. Up close, one can see his color is due to the sand and salt that has collected on its coat. Though he allows himself to be petted, he does not step off the rocks. A passerby comments that the dog has been waiting for his master to return. How long? The man shrugs. When he was a boy, the dog was keeping watch; now he’s forty-three, and the dog is still there.

EL TRAVIESO

Or perhaps the characters were more distracted by how clean the water was, how clear. Enough so that the sight of a bottle bobbing in the waves seems offensively out of place. Anyone who chooses to snag it out of the water will find it’s a corked bottle of rum, apparently empty.

From a nearby restaurant, someone yells and waves their hands—too late. By uncorking it, they have freed the bacoo. Immediately, everyone backs away. Two cross themselves.

Only one stays long enough to warn, “You have to trick it back into the bottle. It likes milk and bananas. Don’t ask it for anything.”

Turn around, and the bacoo is there.

Short and rugged with large eyes, long arms and legs, covered in unkempt hair and its fingers and toes ending in claws, the bacoo is a strange little creature. Stranger still, it can grant any wish—so long as it is kept appeased with a steady diet of milk and bananas.

A hungry bacoo will pelt walls with stones, move objects, keep its owner up at night, and otherwise wreak havoc until it is fed. A shapeshifter, they can be difficult to locate, much less trap. And a starving bacoo will turn vicious and its pranks malicious.

Best find a way to trick it into the bottle. Fast.

---

OOC NOTES

This TDM covers from mid-to-end of October. The first prompt lasts approximately two weeks; the second, a day. For now, all characters are restricted to Nona. Any attempting to leave will be gently, but firmly escorted back.

The TDM will also double as the first IC post of the game. Threads between any two or more characters who were all apped and approved will be considered game canon. As such, actions characters take in this TDM will impact the game once it opens. How characters behave will shape the inhabitants’ first impressions of them. Make it count.

Questions regarding this TDM can be asked below, while questions regarding the game at large should be directed to the FAQ.

Thank you for your interest and we hope to have you join!

NAVIGATION • IC COMM • OOC COMM • MEME COMM

Comments

[quietroom]

[ Watching her form, he nods approval, noting the way her hands move. ] Find shade if you do others. Every fifth, move into the sun. Train the hands, don't burn. Ten in the morning, ten in the evening. Hold short, then longer.

[ Instruction is easy, familiar. Simple, in ways so many other things are complicated. He flips his hand, indicating she should rise. ] Did you intend to learn their style?

[wolfchild]

[ she does, storing the instruction as she straightens. it will be something for her to do later before bed. gendry can tell her if she’s holding straight. ]

Orphans don’t intend anything. [ there is no bitterness to her tone; this is the way of the world. ] But I’d rather know how to fight off and kill anyone who comes after me. Girls alone are thought easy marks. I won’t be beaten again, and I won’t be raped.

[quietroom]

[ Ah that is different, entirely. Lan Wangji's face doesn't shift too much, but his gaze sharpens. ] Two weeks of that, then adjustments.

[ He falls quiet, contemplative almost, looking at his sleeves until he makes a decision and looks at her directly. ] I have trained disciples in sword work. I can provide similar training here. Unlikely to be the same as your water dancing, but it is training still.

[wolfchild]

[ she blinks, interested. but— ] I don't have a sword.

[ she had one long ago. but she had to hide it lest it be taken from her. she surrendered all else to him of many faces, but not that. never that.

all she has is her knife, hidden under her clothes and kept sharp enough to shave with. she can draw it, slit a purse or a throat, hide it and vanish before anyone is the wiser. but a knife is no match for a sword. ]

[quietroom]

We can find one. [ Possibly. Maybe? He has no idea, but there has to be a craftsman on the island who can produce a wooden sword. ] Basic skills to start, an understanding of defense, offense.

[ They don't do hand to hand combat, but he knows what to do if he gets disarmed. He can provide that instruction, at least. ] If no sword, forms adapt to suit other edged weapons.

[wolfchild]

[ he thinks wooden. she thinks steel. there must be a forge. the bajari bara must surely know. as soon as they all return to the shelter, she will ask. ]

If you're wanting payment, I served at tables, and helped the cook, and I can clean and launder too. [ and a hodgepodge of other skills—as a vendor, tying ropes and climbing the rigging on ships, sleight of hand, caring for animals, the cleaning, dressing and caring for the bodies of the deceased—that she will voice as they become relevant.

(guess who has yet to learn about child labor laws.) ]

[quietroom]

[ Ancient China didn't have child labor laws and children did their fair share of work around the homes. Even the youngest disciples helped out among the clans. But payment? He would never.

A shake of his head. ] No payment. Diligence at practice. Dedication.

[ He won't torment an outsider with three thousand rules, not when he's still questioning them, but if she insists on repaying him, that can be a start. ]

[wolfchild]

[ she nods. ]

I'm always diligent. And dedicated. I'm the most dedicated person you'll find.

[ and the humblest too.

she pauses as she realizes she does not yet know his name or provided hers. ]

My name's Jory. [ she knew a jory—a long, long time ago. ]

[quietroom]

The most? [ That might be hard to prove, but he's willing to see her try. ]

Lan Wangji. [ He offers it with a short bow, which is perhaps uncalled for, but they have agreed to training, and it is important to show respect. ]

[wolfchild]

[ she is visibly a little thrown by the bow; jory has never had anyone bow to her before. but she politely returns it, mimicking his. ]

I'll start now. [ which she promptly does.

congrats on your new student. she will hound him for instruction. ]

[quietroom]

Do not overextend. Report on your progress every other day.

[ Welcome to training, kid. ]