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TDM 014: A DAY AT THE FAIR
TDM 014: A DAY AT THE FAIR |
00. Arrival![]() You come out of the water, the Nameless Island's own inherent energy drawing people in. It's like being suspended between realities and abruptly pushed from behind through a rift in dimensions. It may make you sick, or that might be the motion of the ocean, lifting you to the surface and carrying you to shore. Waterlogged and covered in sand, new arrivals will be greeted by robots who welcome them with towels and bracelet devices. The A5 card is already loaded up. If you don’t manage to get away from them quickly enough, they may even usher you toward the Laid Bare Spa, where new arrivals will be offered free massages, a sauna, hairstyling, and their clothing may come up permanently missing. But you will be given a complimentary towel to leave with if needed! Feel free to explore the Island, though there isn’t much to see beyond what arrivals before you have helped to rebuild. Most of the buildings are abandoned and in dire need of repair, and beyond the city lingers a thick fog that obscures much of the wilderness from view. Wander too far into this fog, and you will find yourself mysteriously looping back to where you began, your memories of what you were doing and how you got there erased. With that in mind, it may be wise to stake your claim on a place to live in the now, whether a rundown apartment in the City, a tent on the beach, a bed in the barracks, or your own space at the House of Worship. Your inventory will be found a day later, wrapped up haphazardly and delivered to each person's makeshift home. I. HAY FEVER![]() A new mode of transportation has made an appearance! From one end of the fairgrounds to the other, and even sometimes off the beaten path and into the wilds, robot-horse-drawn hay wagons shake, rattle, and roll. And, of course, what are hay wagons great for? Anyone fancy a roll in the hay? Anyone who is taking a hay ride will see their A5 card flash - and they will be given the option to trade one square for the vehicles square. (New players engaging in this prompt can call it a freebie.) But beware! The wagons roll at all hours of the day and night. At night, the spooks come out to play! Rides will be "haunted" by frightful spooks played by machines and your local Islanders. The 'bots will hire anyone interested to don their favorite slasher costume or ghostly garb. After all, everyone knows that fear and adrenaline are related to attraction, right? Just another thoughtful service provided by your generous benefactors. II. Acute Beef Poisoning![]() How about an eating contest? Multiple competitions are held throughout the fair: hot dogs, hot dogs, pies -- just use your imagination! Of course, there's always the chance that you've been recruited to be "eaten"... So sit back and enjoy the ride. For those of you with an exhibitionist streak, all contests are held in front of an audience. Be careful, ye who eat here, because the pies in particular have been known to have the following effects (with a two-hour duration):
III. BRODEO![]() Last but not least, try the mechanical contraptions of various sizes - equipped with equipment of various sizes as well! The objective of this game is to last as long as you can. Thirteen Hand Sam is the smallest of the mechanical horses. It has no attachments, but instead vibrates until the rider orgasms. Mechanic Mike is the second mechanical horse. With a modest six-inch dildo, it bucks its rider around until orgasm. For those who like a real challenge, the mechanical bull -- the Bonine -- is a two-person contraption that straps each rider in with their own dildo. They sit face-to-face on the thrashing machine, within touching range, able to encourage each other to come (and to lose) more quickly. Ride like you've never ridden before, or comfort someone in the aftermath of a job well done. N A V I G A T I O N |
dorian fletcherson | D&D 5e OC | ota
He remembers falling asleep in the comfortable warmth, nestled up against his mate in the collection of blankets and wool and in the scent of cool rain, dust and old paper. This was the opposite of that. This was warm and salty and the wind wasn't as biting as it was before. He---doesn't like it. It's almost like the air stinks with fish and salt. Shaking himself awake, there's----sand in his nails and feathers and hair and wow this is beyond fucking unpleasant. He fluffs himself up---at least, his wings do, the feathers flicking away what moisture they can, and what sand they can, and if it weren't for the feathery appendages sticking out from his back, he'd look more akin to a drowned rat. Dorian does not look pleased, nor is he too excited about the strange warforged approaching him with towels and explanations and a whole bunch of words. Before them stands a rather tall, lithe looking man with no shirt and some utilitarian looking leathers. He's suntanned, and bespeckled with all manner of freckles from the bridge of his nose to likely, all the way to his legs. Who knows. There's a lot of them. Most distractingly though, of course, are the ruddy red and brown wings that stretch out behind him, heavy with the weight of the water.
"No, I don't care about any of that, where's Veda? My mate?"
The longer he stands there and tries to get an answer out of them, the more agitated he looks; might wanna intervene and try to deescalate. Sure, he's big, but he's also at a speed disadvantage at first glance; he's soaked to the bone.
II. poisoning of a different kind
Dorian's gotten along well with most if not all he's encountered so far; and he certainly won't turn down the notion of food. Being literally raised by wolves leaves a lot to be desired diet-wise, and being less liked in the cities nearest his foresty home meant that even the least bit of cooking and processing was always a treat. So, he's plucked a few pie slices for himself; one for now, another for later, packed in a beeswax kerchief. For now though, he's munching on either a meat or a cherry pie slice, happily. Dealer's choice which one it is, though.
[ ooc: howdy! this is Dorian, he's an aasimar primeval guradian ranger from a semi-homebrew 5e game! he turns into a giant hawk sometimes with wicked big claws and a bigger wingspan. 8) he's actually a rather big softie under his stoic protectiveness, and once he's had a little wear and care, he'll warm up to whoever's kind to him. promise. he's just a grumpy hawkboy because he's away from his partner. i'll have some more info out for him later but until then, have at him; he's well into his early thirties and the wings will eventually go away, so he's good for a hug or two. ]
Arrival
“They’re infuriating, but getting angry at them doesn’t help.” She took the towel from one of the little pests and shooed it away. “Get lost.” She handed the towel to him. “They only seem to be able to say exactly what they were programmed to.”
She looked at him with an empathetic sadness. “I’ll help you look for whoever you’re looking for, but I want to warn you it’s completely possible they only grabbed you.” She’d had a hard time getting straight answers when she landed here, and she refused to be anything less than helpful to anyone else.