Test Drive Meme #3

[hadrielmods]

Welcome to Hadriel's test drive, and thank you again for your interest in the game! As always, our reserves page is here, and our applications page is here! Reserves open November 24th, and apps are open December 1st.

Two quick points here as well:

1. Any thread made in Hadriel's test drive will be accepted as the sole Action Log sample in the application.
2. All threads made in the test drive can be considered game canon!

Test drives will be broken up into specific god mini-events, during which your characters can see how well they fare under the watchful eye of one of the gods. Choose wisely or just simply pick 'em all, and have fun!

F E A R

SCENARIO ONE: GIMME A HUG
[The Door brings in all that is chaotic and evil in the world. This may include you, may include the person next to you... and may include the monster behind you.

Watch out as you explore the streets of Hadriel, because you're not alone, and there's always something on the rooftops watching and waiting for the perfect opportunity to separate you from your group and tear you into pieces. This time, the Door has brought in a large slithering beast for you meet.

This Titanoboa is not the friendliest of snakes. Over fifty feet long, it requires quite a lot of meals in order to keep going, and it seems to be most interested in making you one of them. A giant anaconda, this is a constrictor rather than a venomous snake - but don't worry. It's got teeth, too, in case it needs to do a touch of nibbling. We're sure you'll get along just fine.]


SCENARIO TWO: THE DOCTOR IS IN
[You awaken on an operating table. How did you get here? What's going on? You don't remember checking into a hospital or seeing a doctor, and when you try to get up you quickly discover that your hands and legs are secured tightly to the table, the straps digging into your skin.

Next to the table is a tray of gleaming steel surgical instruments, their sharp blades glittering as the overhead light flickers. They seem to be the only clean thing in the room, as you begin to realize that the walls of this operating room are moldy and stained, and there's something dripping from the ceiling. This may not be a legitimate hospital at all.

There are footsteps outside the door. It could be a friend - or not. Will you call for help? Try to free yourself? Lay back and wait for the doctor to arrive?]


H O P E

SCENARIO THREE: HOPESGIVING
[You find yourself in a kitschy, brightly lit, utterly pleasant gift shop. Lining the shelves are all manner of stuffed animals, inspirational figurines, greeting cards, and delightful ornaments. Some even look familiar, like something you might have seen before.

The door isn't locked. You can just leave, if you want. But on a pedestal where the registers should be is a globe of glittering light, and within it, a picture of the person you care for most in the world. Carved on the pedestal are the words Bring someone hope, and you will bring them happiness.

Of course, you aren't alone in there. Will you find something on the shelves to show to your companion, something that might bring them hope? Or maybe you brought something from home. Or maybe you don't care at all, and just want to smash everything in there. It's all up to you.

This is a simplified version of this month's Hope event.]

Comments

[cowed]

[ he clicks his tongue, but also holds it. of course she could've. she's also the one that decided to wait there for someone else to happen by...

whatever. he folds his arms, keeping his expression decidedly neutral as she takes the time to show off. it's hard not to be nervous with a loose death knight in the same room as you, but like hell he's going to go out of his way to show it. ]

You think I'm dressed like this for the fun of it? [ god. his face slips into a half-sneer, half-incredulous grin at the mere thought, though not for long. he turns his face away, picking at one of the runed ribbons of his pauldron as a pretense to hide his brief lapse. ] Unless you happen to have a spare set of clothing hidden away in here-- well.

It's unfortunate, but... [ he spreads his arms in the world's laziest shrug. sometimes sacrifices have to be made, etc. ]

[miscreant]

[She doesn't answer his rhetorical, opting to try and close the distance between them. Her axes aren't far, but she doesn't need them. His demeanor said enough, even if he was trying to hide his discomfort.]

You...are familiar to me.

[Seviilia offers a squint of her frosty eyes in an attempt to focus.]

That has yet to bode well for almost everyone I've managed to encounter.

[cowed]

[ he responds to her aggression the best way he knows, by trying to salvage some of the distance between them. he slides further along the wall, back the way he came. ] Only familiar? [ seviilia's movements had been cause for alarm, but her words provoke a surge of bitterness so strong he can taste it. ] -- That figures.

[ ah, but that's probably not a very reassuring response. merodach tilts his head, inclining it ever-so-slightly in her direction. ] We aren't enemies.

[miscreant]

No? You dress as one of them.

[This time, she doesn't follow him. Instead, she stops in front of the gurney and leans against it, supporting her weight on her hands. Ultimately, one cultist isn't a threat to her. At least not one this small.

She taps one nail noisily against her plated arm. She paints the picture of someone attempting to recall a very deep memory.]

The Citadel, wasn't it?

[cowed]

Maybe.

[ his ears flick. she talks like it's a time already past, and he's not sure what that means for him. or potentially, his future? is that possible? his gazes slides over to the door while he mulls over the thought.

he should've left it open. ] Your memory does you a disservice, as always.

fixt

[miscreant]

Maybe.

[She repeats, a mocking of his tone as she pushes herself to stand straight. Her faulty memory wasn't exactly a secret, but that doesn't mean she wants to hear him talk about it. There's virtually nothing here to keep her from killing him.

So she steps forward with the intent of cornering him against the wall.]

You cannot be all that important if I do not remember you.

[cowed]

[ predictably, he backs up until he hits the wall; he glances over his shoulder in surprise, as if it shouldn't be there. he blows his bangs out of his face, looking back at her. ]

Do you even know enough to make that determination? [ ... even if it is kind of true. his shoulders draw up. ] Besides, I freed you.

[ he gestures broadly to the parts of the room they're leaving behind: the closed door, the now damaged gurney... cut him a little slack, huh. ]

[miscreant]

You did. I wonder if you're beginning to regret that.

[She keeps me the distance between them minimal, because his discomfort brings her calm from the uneasiness she had felt when waking up strapped to that table.

Her eyes narrow, staring straight through him, with a tension in the air that suggests she might snap if he moves the wrong way.]

You're right. I don't know enough. All I know is that you're wearing those robes and by all rights I should strip the flesh from your body on that merit alone.

[cowed]

Wasn't the attitude you had when we last met.

[ that's unfortunate. he leans heavy against the wall, slumping a little. it fails to bring him any comfort. ] You're still just as ungrateful, though.

[miscreant]

[That was not the correct thing to say. Her sneer expands and sharpens almost immediately -- she remembers bits and pieces, but not enough for a clear picture of someone she simply remembers being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Or the right time?]

If I were you, I would be more mindful of such a clever tongue.

[Stalling.]

[cowed]

Hardly clever if it's just the truth.

[ after all, he hears no denial. he tenses up as if to make a break for it, but stays put, still looking at seviilia but not quite meeting her stare. he tilts his head in deference to her, but adds on nothing else. ]

[miscreant]

Are you alone, or are there more of you?

[As long as he isn't actively furthering the Scourge's purpose, what does she care about his presence here? Something in the back of her head itches and she finds--

She doesn't really want to kill him. Not actively.]

[cowed]

[ one foot slides out, just a little. he presses his palms flat against the wall, lip curling in response to her question. ]

You're the only thing I've seen so far. [ and if it weren't for her sudden hostility-- well, extra hostility-- there would be two of them. tch. ] The answer should be obvious.

[miscreant]

[His tone doesn't put her on edge like it had before, but the stutter-start of his heartbeat does. It's preferable.

It's also marked by the lowering of her eyelids and the way she leans back just enough so she isn't so aggressively in his space.]

I ask because there are other knights. Of the Ebon Blade flavor.

[cowed]

[ he's not stupid enough to become complacent the instant she backs off; every inch of him remains just as taut as before, braced for the worst.


his expression flickers at the mention of the blade; merodach bites his lip, head lowering as he considers the ramifications. they're... all bad. ] Then I suppose it's imperative I change sooner rather than later, hm? [ haha. he pauses. ]

And what flavor does that make you? [ for clarity's sake. ]

[miscreant]

My own.

[She's firm when she says it, even bristles just a little at the implication that she might be one or the other. There's a threat to her tone, like his asking is an attempt at accepting an invitation she never sent.

She would never be Scourge again. Not willingly.]

[cowed]

[ he exhales slowly. do all death knights turn out this difficult in comparison to their previous selves, or is he just that lucky? ] Just asking.

[ he finally slouches a little, not relaxing so much as resigning himself to the fact that there's no easy escape route available. ] Doesn't explain why you'd tell me so, given your, uh-- [ mm, how to put it. he tilts his head. ] Lack of knowledge.

[miscreant]

[Why does he ask so many questions? Even if he isn't directly asking them, he's making her question her own actions, and if he really knew her postmortem would know how easily such actions stress her.

When she can't answer his question right away, she snaps outward and pins him to the wall with her hand by his throat. The squeeze is rough, but not particularly damaging.]

Perhaps I was imagining you would answer that question for me.

[cowed]

[ the instant her hand connects with his neck he goes rigid-,but once the moment passes and he realizes he can breathe with relative ease, his eyes narrow. he puts a hand on her wrist-- it rests there, as if to confirm that she's still solid. ]

Why? [ it's too easy to be complacent; the only thing he can be is contrary. despite the unfolding predicament, he sneers. ] As you said-- if the memory escapes you, it must not've been very important.

[miscreant]

[Her only response to that is to squeeze the air out of his lungs as frustration takes over her. Patience is absent in the face of that sneer he tries to throw at her.

Call it an incentive.]

[cowed]

[ it disappears as soon as her grip tightens, at least. his hand goes from merely resting on her wrist to having it in a proper hold, though he doesn't struggle directly. he only grits his teeth, heading tilting back automatically as he focuses his efforts on getting some amount of that air back.]

-- C'mon. [ he manages to wheeze out after a time, the corners of his mouth lifting into a shaky, apologetic grin. ] Not helpful.

[miscreant]

Neither are you. Would you like to revise your answer?

[She doesn't loosen any -- if he can still talk, he can answer her]

[cowed]

[ his ears flatten back. while technically true, he'd rather not talk at length while pinned to a wall. ]

If you let go.

[miscreant]

You are not in a position to be bargaining, cultist.

[The urge to tighten her grip is rapidly winning out over her desire to get information, displayed by how her fingers shift across his neck.]

Start talking.

[cowed]

We were friends.

[ he spits the answer out rather hastily once her fingers twitch. it's not entirely accurate, but she's not exactly giving him the opportunity to figure out a better descriptor. ]