test drive meme #15

[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 December 25th, and apps are open January 1st. Please remember that there is an app cap of 20 apps.

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, either through handwaving or through a shared mental experience while coming through the Door!

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: YOU SMELL SOMETHING?
[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 lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect chance to knock you out, drag you back to its cave, and hang you upside down for some reason. This time, the Door has brought in a number of Wampas, from the Star Wars movies.

Wampas are large and furry, in order to stay warm and alive on their native ice planet of Hoth. While their white fur helps them blend in at home, it's less helpful in Hadriel - but that's fine! They're giant and terrifying with big claws and teeth, they don't really need camouflage too. They'll be more than happy to hunt you down - and if they don't eat you right there, they could knock you out and take you home for a later meal. If you wake up in a wampa cave, let's hope you remembered your lightsaber.]

R A G E

SCENARIO TWO: WE'RE ALL PISSED OFF HERE
[For some reason, something's just pissing you off today. It's something weird, too, something that wouldn't normally bother you at all. Maybe it's jackets or buildings with too many windows. Maybe it's animals or the simple act of sleeping. Whatever it is, it's total bullshit and you hate it.

What are you gonna do about it? Smash some windows? Kick a puppy? Or hey, maybe you'll run across someone who hates that thing just as much as you do, and you'll make a new friend! Or a new enemy, if they're wearing that most horrible of wardrobe items, a jacket.

This is a mini version of our Why Do You Have To Be Mad? event this month!]

D E L I G H T

SCENARIO THREE: THE SPIRIT OF THE SEASON
[Generosity and charity have infected the city! And hey, that's a good thing, right? Hadriel could use a little more kindness. Who knows what's causing it - Delight is probably bored - but whatever it is, maybe it's affected you, too.

If it has, you'll be inspired by the desire to give gifts to your friends, your family, that stranger across the street. Of course, Hadriel doesn't have a lot of gift shops, so... well, maybe you should just give them the shirt off your back? Or hey, smash a shop window and grab that can of beans, they'll love that! You could even steal your friend's favorite jacket and give it to your other friend. How generous of you!

Or maybe you're totally unaffected, and a complete stranger just ran up to you on the street and tried to give you a shirt they ripped off their friend. It's, uh. Not weird. Aren't you gonna say thank you?]

Comments

ana amari ( overwatch )

[sleepdarts]

{ delight }

( Perhaps it was a dream. Perhaps something had finally done it, taking the sniper down without her realising so. It wasn't the only question that Ana had but she didn't have chance to consider the others - not with someone running up to her and leaving a shirt in her hands.

It was a confusing display, made more so with him running off, handing a pair of trousers to the next person that he had found. Where had they come from? What was it for?

There's a slight chuckle that Ana gives at the oddity of it, and she gives the shirt a look to see if there was anything special about it but no, it was just plain and white. And worn.

With a shake of her head Ana folds it over her arm, looking for that man again to find him already gone. What a peculiar man. What an odd plan )

[justice_from_above]

[Fareeha is the one left with the gentleman's trousers, as he caught her just as she was leaving her apartment for patrol. She stands in the street, fully armored, holding the pants up by one belt loop as she watches him streak past in giddy delight at having gifted people things he seems to think they desperately need.]

[What Fareeha desperately needs right now is a place to put these pants.]

[It's in glancing around trying to solve this problem that she spots her mother. In an instant, the pants are forgotten; she almost can't believe her eyes, and while Ana looks older and more worn, she is still definitively the woman Fareeha had looked up to all her life, who had been dead for the last dead years.]

[She drapes the trousers over a bench and makes her way over to Ana, but even though her mind is racing she hasn't collected herself to know what to say once she gets close. Instead, she stands quietly for a moment, and then asks softly,]

It is you, isn't it?

Rita Du Clark | iZombie (tv) | oh come all ye poor saps

[unheeled]

fear (cw blood, possible violence) - (note that she looks like this for this starter)

[When she wakes up in the colosseum, she's herself again, as if getting shot did little more than knock her into another world. Hell, maybe she's dead and this is... well. Hell.

That creature making its way towards her sure looks like a demon.

The taste of fresh blood and brains is still on her tongue, so it's not the hunger that triggers the change, but the threat. Her eyes go red, her skin chalky white. She dodges a swipe of the wampa's claws and thinks -- she can still think, because she just ate, and her father was cooler in the face of violence than she is -- and knows she can't kill this monster.

If no one comes to help her, she'll run away and shove aside (violently) anyone in her way. If someone does come to help her, well... watch out, because you might only register as 'threat' to her, especially if you're human and thus a potential meal.]


rage

[She pictures her rather standing at the window of that particularly offensive building (too many windows, WHY), and it's his head Rita aims for as she throws a rock at the glass.

The sound the shards make as they hit the floor do little to ease her rage. Still too many windows. Dad's already dead.

Everything is awful.

She picks up another rock and tosses it at another window without warning anyone who might be walking nearby. She's not sorry.]


delight

[Rita frowns at all the smiling people, especially at the one approaching her with a gift. It may or may not be you, or maybe you're next to her. Maybe Rita doesn't hate you, who knows.

No matter who you are, she arches an eyebrow as she takes the gift.] Thanks? It better be booze.

[Thoughts?]


[write your own starter c: ]

rage

[waterwave]

[Suien has a headache, the kind that's sunk in deep behind his eyes and pounding in like it wants to flatten nails or liquefy the contents of his skull. It's not the first time he's woken up from a blackout or a bender and had no idea where he is. And it's far from the first time he's ended up with a headache that's attempting to kill him in unsubtle ways. This time he still has all his knives with him, though apparently he either spent all his money or got robbed last night. Goddamn sake.

Normally the crash of broken glass would be cause for alarm.

Suien drags his arm off his face with a groan. He's lying on his back on a bench, wondering if he can knock himself unconscious if he bangs his head against the wall hard enough.]

For fuck's sake, be quiet.

[He's not awake enough to murder anyone yet.]

delight

[keepawayfromfire]

...no, it's not. Sorry.

[Marco hopes she's not too disappointment. The spirit of sharing and caring got him good, so he gives her an encouraging smile.]

It's a healing potion.

leonie tremble; original

[pythonissam]

fear;
[Not her bed, not a dream because she can get up and Leonie can move but the claws on the thing are-- well there are things like this lurking under the house, outside the house. Not so big because they don't let them grow too big but they have the potential.

Or maybe it's a dream and the swipe that comes too close really is Orpheus fighting her as she tries to wake up but why take the chance?

Beasts that get too big for themselves are a challenge but not something she necessarily takes on alone as she flexes her left palm; if you come along to help out, you might want to not get between her and the wampa. Not unless you want to be on the business end of a spell.]

delight;
[At least the sound of her nails drumming against the can settles her, which is perhaps all that one can really say - if anyone cares to ask - when they're approached by a woman brandishing a can of petit pois and a manic grin. Easy to smile back, play along for the moment; more flies with honey.

Or maybe a can of petit pois if you fancy it because Leonie has absolutely no use for it other than to drive people mad with the tapping but they might all be mad here anyway.]

Suien - Naruto - ota

[waterwave]

[Despite the situation - waking up in a strange place, being surrounded by monsters and broken buildings - Suien hasn't moved since he first realized something was wrong. He's lying on his back on a bench, arm over his face, and resolutely ignoring everything that's going on. Monsters screaming? He's going to pretend he's still asleep. Panicking in the streets?

Shut up, get off my lawn.

If you've ever wanted to meet the jackass who'd willingly sleep through the apocalypse, then meet Suien. He's currently hungover as fuck and ignoring the world.

Don't poke him. He's not dead and he'll probably stab someone for their troubles.]

Marco | Radiant Historia

[keepawayfromfire]

RAGE
[Marco is seething. He's been seething the entire day. Everywhere he goes, people are wearing jackets. Some of them even have the nerve to talk to him, moving their hands and showing off the awful garments as if to spite him, not realizing the young man hates them with the power of a thousand burning suns.

He bottles it up at first, trying to find some jacket-free place, but those things are everywhere, sometimes accompanied with more abominations like scarves and hats and arrrrgh, he feels sick just thinking about it! Why should he be the one to walk away – THEY should be gone! He'll teach them all a lesson!

Which is why there's a huge fire burning in the housing area. The clothes would be unrecognizable even if they weren't burning, because Marco slashes each one into pieces before tossing it into the flames.]

Hey, you there. [It's not enough. He should destroy them all.] Take off your jacket.

[…he reaches for the hilt of his sword as he says that.]

DELIGHT
[Marco's unaffected by the whole thing, but it's quite nice. It's good to see people being generous to each other in this dreary city. A little kindness goes a long way.

He's isn't sure about the execution, though, even if the intention is noble. Smashing the windows to get to the food seems excessive, and the shirt… Marco turns it in his hands in polite confusion.]

Oh, uh. Thank you. [He supposed it's the thought that counts… even if it's not his size.] But won't you be cold without it?

poe dameron | star wars | ota

[caressive]

fear.

[ you know what they say: where there’s a wampa, there’s a wampa death cave filled with freezer burned critters.

or people, if you happen to be stupid or desperate enough to put your base near the home of the wampas. which, as it happens, poe dameron (black squadron commander, best pilot in the galaxy, random ass dude in bright orange, yada yada yada) assumed was hoth. or, perhaps, other blizzard ridden wastelands. not, uh, here. in a distinctly not-so-winter wonderland.

poe faces the creature, walking back slowly, hands raised in surrender (well, if you ignore the blaster pointed at the wampa). it growls, evidently considering poe to be a meal, a threat, or both. for his part, poe seems more awestruck than afraid. oh boy. ]

You’re a hell of a long way from home, pal.

[ a droid, BB-8, whirs behind his knees, rolling back and forth in unease. ]

delight.

[ look, he doesn’t know how or why it happened, but of course poe dameron now carries three shirts in addition to his garish orange jumpsuit, meandering around town with his arms full of clothes. BB-8 rolls alongside him, beeping curiously. ]

[ quirking his eyebrows, he looks down to BB-8: ] Think they’re trying to send me a message about the flight suit, huh?

— BLEEEP BRRRO BLEEP

[ poe laughs. ]

‘Course we do.

delight

[mismanagement]

[It's the driod that catches her attention. Maketh pauses, shouldering her rifle, and backtracks to follow the noise. She knows enough binary to recognize it, though it's been more than a year since she encountered one that wasn't defective, stupid, or homicidally inclined. Droids are untrustworthy. But there's a second voice, human and male, alongside the beeping, and that might prove interesting.

She pauses, standing at attention. The man isn't familiar to her and though he's wearing a flight suit, she doesn't recognize the make. The rebels aren't organized enough for uniforms in her time.]

Is that your droid, sir?

peter parker | mcu

[website]

Fear:

I don't know, but this sure doesn't look like Germany.

[He's supposed to be done. Mr. Stark said that he was done, and Peter was really hoping to get back to Queens before dinner. It's lasagna night, and he still has homework, and he really needs to get something on his eye before Aunt May sees it and freaks out on him. Cucumbers? No, he's pretty sure it's supposed to be a steak, except they can't afford to buy steaks every time he gets a black eye.

But the price of red meat is probably the least of his problems right now. White fur is where the real trouble is.]

Hey-Hey buddy, hey there. [His voice stammers as he pulls his mask back down over his chin.] Wow, are you Bigfoot? Why didn't you show up when I had a camera. A lot of magazines would pay big money-

[The wampa charges at about the same time that Peter's signing a fat check in his mind. He leaps out of the way, shooting a web at the top of a one story building, swinging up and perching there.]

Okay, maybe there's a small reward for lost monsters. [Peter cups his hands around his mouth (currently under the mask) and calls out to the city:] Hey, did anyone lose their yeti? Because I think I found him!

Delight:

[He's gonna be so grounded. Because there's no way he's making it back home tonight, which means he's probably not making it to school tomorrow, which means his aunt is probably going to be worried - please don't let her cry.

These are the things that Peter is currently worried about the most, though the strange cave that he's in is a close second. He's ducked into one of the stores where he grabbed the nearest change of clothes. He's thankful for the suit, eternally grateful even, but the red and blue spandex kind of stands out.

Peter hears someone else come in, and the shirt is still only halfway on as he pokes his head through the hole.]

Uh...hi. This isn't what it looks like. I'm not... [Stealing? Getting naked in some random store? Wow, those are both pretty bad.] Because that would be weird! And...illegal. And morally offensive.

[Just covering all his bases here.]

Delight

[mismanagement]

[To Maketh's resigned horror, this isn't the first time she's run into someone in the midst of getting dressed. The Academy had been fun like that. Surprise inspections in the middle of the night had left them all paranoid as teenagers, a habit that Maketh - more than a decade later - still can't seem to shake.

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.]

I take it your clothes were damaged somehow?

Eleven | Stranger Things

[theflea]

{SCENARIO ONE}

[ The last thing Eleven could recall was delving into the depths of her mind, stretching her conscious into the enveloping darkness and shrill cold of the Upside down. Her search for Will had brought her this far and Eleven though that perhaps she was able to avoid the monster that dwelled in this dimension, perhaps her presence would go unnoticed this time and she would be able to pass through in peace.

But this was not the place she normally feared, no, this was some place else, some place new. Slipping into the flipside of the acrobatic tightrope was indeed the same as stepping through a gateway. A tear in space and time, crossing over through dimensions, much like the door the Gods of Hadriel had used to bring people to them.

Eleven looked around, curious, scared and unsure. She's never been this far before, she didn't know what to expect. It was dark, sure, but nowhere near as dark as the Upside down. The ground was hard, cold and dry. She took in a deep breath, the air was safe to breathe and although the light was faint, it was still light.

Taking a step back, Eleven felt the wall of the cave, cold like marble, smooth as satin. Hugging it as she passed through like a fever, hot and confused. It was then that she saw it. It's great coiled horns, fur as white as snow, eyes hollow and lost, obsidian and large. She gasped, pressed her small body as flush to the wall as she could. Eleven wished to avoid the beast, a confrontation would only take it out of her and she had already used too much energy, her reserves were dipping low.

She could have escaped easily, slipped past like a speck of dust in the corner of the eye, but you just had to come by, didn't you? Making your presence known to the monster, whether you knew it or not. Eleven watched as the huge, lumbering beast rose to its feet, spitting bones and flesh from its tremendous maw. It was heading your way!

At first, Eleven though to remain silent, stay out of sight while you distracted it, but she couldn't, it didn't feel right. She stepped away from the wall, arms down by her side, fists balled tightly with white knuckles. Was it bravery or stupidity? Possibly a bit of both. ]

No!

[ She called out, her small voice echoed through the cave. That was as far as her plan had gone, Eleven acted on impulse, an impulse she soon regretted as the mammoth monster turned its attention to her. ]

[skelebro]

[What's with this place and kids, Sans asks you? Ain't like it's got a shortage of 'em, no. Just seems to insist on lumping 'em all together in one convenient war-zone of a cave, packed to bursting with things that are terribly eager to kill you nice and slow.

Speakin' of which.

Sans is just about to take a shortcut on outta the thing's way when a kid-sounding voice cries out and catches its attention. It turns, huffing a chilled breath as it apparent decides that a human kid is likely to be more of a meal than a skeleton monster.]

Woah there, pal.

[Sans ain't one for intervention, but he's learned, in the six months or so he's spent here, that he ain't one for sittin' back and watchin' kids die anymore.

He's seen it too often. Been complicit in it too often.

He don't make any obvious motions, but a chunk of rubble abruptly streaks for the beast's head and brains it solidly, causing it to wobble. Sans looks to the kid and jerks his skull in a clear indication of his next word:]

Run.

Turing | Read Only Memories

[turingmachine]

Fear

"Aaah!" (WHYYYYYYY! Why was this thing chasing them?! They hadn't done anything! They weren't even edible!

Of course, none of these facts seemed likely to deter the Wampa. Which is why, should one look up, one might see a tiny, screaming robot run past them, giant white beast of death hot on their heels.)

Delight

(They aren't all that used to getting gifts, so when a random stranger comes up and hands them... whatever this is, they're not entirely sure how to react.)

"Uh... thanks!" (At least it's not spoiled milk? They make a face at that memory. Never again, please.)

fear

[fulcra]

[ ahsoka doesn't know what the little synthetic is but it sounds terrified and she's really, really sick of these wampas, so it's her duty to intervene. and intervene she does, without any real thought or prompting, pulling one lightsaber from the hook on her hip. her fight with the wampa is over before it can begin, a blade of white light slashing the creature in half as it passes her. momentum carries the top half of the wampa further forward, though, and the ex-jedi only has a fraction of a second to realize it might manage to land on the little machine anyway.

and well, she can't have that. with a gesture of her hand, turing gets pushed forward faster than their legs could have moved them, just out of the way of the partial wampa that lands just where they had been a second before. ]

Nathan Wallace | Repo! The Genetic Opera | lord what am i doing

[sawman]

fear; cw blood and violence

[Electrocuted, hamstrung, and finally shot. Coated in blood, part of it his and part of it someone else's entirely, and he'd known, despite the peace of death, that a man like him would end up in whatever hell may await murderers, no matter how legal their contracts might be.

At least he's not unarmed, in the face of whatever one calls...this. It's white and furred and roaring, but it takes considerably more than that to terrify someone like him.

His retaliation is bright and precise, almost surgical in its efficiency. The double-edged scalpel cuts up, across, down again, and whatever the thing is, one thing he can say undeniably is that it bleeds.

It bleeds, and therefore can be killed.]

delight; cw gore

[The concept of gift-giving is fairly conventional. The ideas of what constitutes a good gift, however, varies wildly between different worlds.

So today, you may wake up to find that someone has deposited a well-preserved heart or liver upon your doorstep. Packed in ice and vacuum-sealed, ready for use for, er - whatever it is you might use that for. It's an organ just for you, free of debt! How fun.

And hey, if you need a skilled surgeon to transplant that organ for you, he's heading down the street just now like your very own blood-streaked Santa Claus.<sup>1

1. It bears noting that there appears to be nothing resembling a Santa Claus in the universe of Repo!, and this is probably for the best.↩</sup>]

Delight

[turingmachine]

(The concept of gift giving may be conventional, but no one in any world seems to have an idea of what would be an appropriate gift for a robot.

Most likely, they're busy tidying up when they hear someone at the door.)

"Coming!"

(Now who could that be?

There's not much left to dust on the shelf they were working on, so they finish that before heading for the door. They open it, only to make a confused expression when they don't see anyone there.

...Just a box. Is it for them? They didn't order any packages.

Might as well open it...

Somewhere down the street, the Repo Man will overhear a high pitched, horrified scream.)

Konaga Heartsun - World of Warcraft

[courageb4strength]

o n e

[There's something pure and honest in a fight, blood on the ground and hearts singing for the glory of the ancestors. Master Firepaw says a monk must never lose themselves to blood-lust, but to enjoy the purity of motion - the giddiness of a blow landed just right - is just fine. So long as you remember what you're fighting for.

Always, protect the innocent.

The monster probably wasn't innocent, but it did try to eat her. Konoga wipes blood off her goggles, eying it suspiciously. The corpse twitches. She wonders if she can eat any of it.]

You can come out now. It's dead!

t h r e e

[You're probably minding your own buisiness, trying to figure out what the hell is going on, when a stranger nearly barrels into you. She then shoves something warm and wet into your hands, beaming and very pelased with herself.

'sup. You've just met Konaga Heartsun, monk in training, and you are now the (proud? horrified?) recipient of a wompa liver.

It's still warm. And bloody.]

You should eat it. [Konaga puffs out her chest.] You're so small.

o n e

[tongueamok]

[After the horror he just witnessed, Carlisle isn't sure he wants to come out from the rock he's hiding behind, his knees pulled up to him, heart thundering away in his chest.

First, he'd rounded a corner and saw what he assumed was some kind of mutated bear. Then, after he'd passed out from fright, he'd woken up to find himself being dragged away into the caves by said bear monster. Finally, he'd been rescued from the aforementioned bear monster by a green whirlwind of fists and teeth, one that flew out of seemingly nowhere with a flash of lightning and a furious kick. He'd darted behind the rock he's still sitting behind, hoping it'd all be over soon. If the spray of blood, the disgusting cracking of bone, and the way the sentient whirlwind is now trying to coax him out are any indication, it probably is.

Carlisle slides to his knees and peers around the boulder, his entire frame shaking.]

Right. Good it- [His eyes dart to the mangled, twitching body that had once been the monster.] -it is dead. It is indeed dead. Very dead. Fantastic.

[And then he slides back behind the rock, trying not to vomit.]

Anakin Skywalker [Star Wars]

[prophesiedone]

[F e a r]

[Fear is an emotion he knows well. He lives with it daily and lays awake at night while it gnaws at his core. Companions have never been so constant as it and he is accustomed to letting it guide him as of late. Why should fear be a weakness, after all? He can put it to work and reap the benefits.

The Wampas are indeed ferocious, but any who try to knock him unconscious will find themselves in pieces thanks to his power. Lightsabers are handy, yes, however he can choke the life from any being, constricting the throat until no air can flow.

Anyone who crosses paths with him will see him, arm outstretched, face set into a dark scowl, standing mere feet from a choking beast. Perhaps the other Wampas will learn to hunt cautiously and not carry Force users off like a sack of potatoes.]

[R a g e]

[Second to his fear is his rage. Anakin feels the hot emotion flowing through his veins and making him mightier than ever. With his lightsaber drawn, he enters the city and cuts down any and all who catch his eye. Let us hope the "any and all" refer to buildings and other inanimate objects otherwise he is making quite a name for himself.

As any Sith would.]

Fear

[mismanagement]

[By this point it's become routine, the expected thing. Wake up, deal with newcomers, deter and occasionally kill whatever horrors the gods have decided to drag through the door. As always.

She doesn't expect to recognize the monster. Or the power that's currently choking the life out of it.

It's too late to back away. Maketh lowers her rifle. It won't help against a Force-user that strong.]

Just kill it already.

kieren walker ( in the flesh )

[facings]

; f e a r.

[ there is a great number of disconcerting facts about this whole situation — first, this definitely isn't Roarton; second, he has no idea where this actually is; third, he'd somehow managed to get here alone and without Neurotriptyline — but none of those is quite as bad as the big, white, lumbering creature making its way towards him on the street. ]

Um, [ says Kieren Walker intelligently, backing up slowly. ]

You don't really want to eat me. [ christ, is he really trying to reason with what looks to be a yeti? it's not that he has too many other options available: he could run, but the creature will likely catch up to him, and he has nothing to defend himself with, no weapons, no guns, nothing. ]

You'd rather eat something that's, um, fresh, yeah? Well, I'm not. Trust me, someone who's already dead doesn't make for a good snack. [ hopefully. hopefully. ]

; r a g e.

[ it's an itch bubbling underneath his skin, the slow hum of irritation that just won't stop ringing in his ears, whispering in his mind, a similar feeling to what prolonged exposure to the company of Gary Kendall would cause in him.

the longer the day goes on, the more the corner of his eye twitches, his pale hands fisted in his jacket pockets, the pupils of his white eyes small as pinpricks. eventually, it's too much, and he stops in the middle of the street and exclaims, ]

I'm sorry, but that's just bullshit! [ he. seems to be pointing at the building to his right. okay then?? ]

rage

[keepawayfromfire]

Hm? [Marco stops in his tracks, brow furrowed in confusion.] What is -

[He follows the pointing finger and gasps once he takes a better look at the building. The first level is a shop. And there are cans at the window.]

Oh! Y-you're right. It's absolutely awful!

padmé amidala | star wars | ota

[officio]

( fear. )

[ she is tired. it is the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that will not go, that lingers and lingers, just like the phantom pain does, the hand still closing tight around her throat.

the Wampa stares at her, and Padmé stares back, unarmed and unafraid. there is no room for fear, not for her own life — not anymore. there are no children inside her belly, even though it still pushes tight against her gown; Luke and Leia are safe, away from here, away from this particular danger. she, on the other hand, has been whisked from one death to another (no, she has no illusions about what awaits her, the knowledge that she was too weak to even hold her children bearing heavily on her), from Polis Massa to this unnamed, unknown planet without snow or ice. it makes little sense, but she can't afford to focus on that, now.

little by little, she inches towards the front of a shop, glass bottles on display outside of it.

as soon as her hand closes around one of them, she hurls it towards the Wampa; without a blaster, her chances of winning are slim, but she won't go without a fight. (at least here, there is something to fight.) ]

( delight. )

[ the first time, it was a nice surprise; the second, a strange coincidence. the third time someone comes up to Padmé and brightly gifts her a woollen blanket, she's just not having it anymore. ]

Thank you, but I really don't — [ her response is cut short, though, as the person giving her the blanket simply deposits it in her arms and leaves. for a moment, she simply stands there, slightly bewildered... before turning to the next person walking by with an impeccably polite smile. ]

Excuse me, would you happen to be in need of a blanket? It looks like I've acquired an excess of them. [ her wry tone is all that betrays her amusement over this. ]

Fear

[mismanagement]

[Every time it's the same, monsters and other such horrors dragged through the Door along with the newcomers. Inevitably some of them get into trouble and occasionally even within the perimeter that Maketh has worked so hard to maintain around the city. There's nothing to do but patrol and deal with the problems when they appear. She doesn't have enough bodies to

What she wouldn't give for a proper shield generator.

There's no use in dreaming. Not when there's work to be done and monsters to be killed.

This time, they're from her universe. How very odd.]

Get down!

[There's no time to get the woman clear. The wampa is advancing on her. Maketh grits her teeth and takes aim with her rifle. One, two, three shots just to be sure. The beasts have thick skulls and they've long since run out of armor piercing rounds.

But it's done, in the end.

Maketh lowers her rifle.]

Are you hurt?

Qui-Gon Jinn | Star Wars

[livingforcedjedi]

When wampas attack!

Did someone call for a lightsaber? Qui-Gon had never been to Hoth, but he'd heard of the creature that came upon him on the street block he'd turned onto moments before. He certainly knew enough not to mess around, lighting his 'saber to defend himself from the threatening-sounding roars. He drew on his experience to ignore the horrible rank smell from the beast as he slowly retreated back the way he'd come, eyes focused ahead while he carefully stretched out in the Force to guide his retreat.

[prophesiedone]

If he ever he doubted his senses, now would be the time to question them. However he knew he was too powerful to be tricked and that the presence he felt was...one who should be dead. He crossed the distance between them at a pounding run and his eyes narrowed at the sight of the Wampa.

"Their numbers have grown too great!" so why shouldn't they see to culling the herd? His lightsaber flashed into being like a lightning crack and he sought the creatures life and blood with a hunger that no Jedi should possess.

Leia Organa | Star Wars

[bravebuns]

[YAY... wampas...]

[Leia is a fair shot with a blaster and it's unfortunately, all she has at her disposal at the moment. And she has to be decent, the rebellion needs strong and capable people, she refused to just be a pretty symbol.

Whoever she's with, she stays close, refusing to abandon them to protect herself.]

[Gifts are good?]

[Leia doesn't know many people here yet, so she doesn't have many who she would focus on trying to get gifts for. That's what everyone says you're supposed to do this time of year, anyway.

So she's a little confused and uncomfortable when someone rushes up to shove a gift into her hands.]

Thank... you?

WAMPAS hello hopefully this works

[fulcra]

[ it's the blaster shots that get ahsoka's attention. sure, there's a curious niggling in the force to go along with the blaring more wampas alarm that seems to be going off in her head on her patrol today, but there aren't many people here who wield blasters.

of course, by the time she gets to leia, on her own at the moment, there's not one but two wampas trying to close in on the princess and, well, this rebel informant is having none of that. ]

Behind you!

[ it's just a bit of warning for formality's sake- an instant later, ahsoka has two bright white lightsabers out to cut the nearest wampa down before it can get anywhere near leia. ]

Regis Lucis Caelum CXIII | Final Fantasy XV

[kingslight]

[Scenario I.]

[An inexplicable fear seizes Regis' heart with a strength he never known before. Something is amidst here within these foreign streets and Regis could feel it within his very bones.

Trepidation clings to his every step as he ventures down these unfamiliar sidewalks in search for any place to seek refuge. The dull memory of Glauca's blade piercing his chest haunts him even now as he crosses back from the bleakness of death to the convexity of life. He clutches the collar of his cloak together a tad tighter than before once a terrible shiver races down his spine. Every so often, the royal would glance over his shoulder when he hears something scurrying about within the dark.

Regis could barely see a thing out here, an unfortunate truth. He had hoped to come across others but the streets are barren. There's no one here, only him and whatever is stalking him.

His pace quickens but only slightly.

Regis' wounded knee makes it difficult to walk despite the aid of the bronze scepter he has in tow. The king finds himself stopping every so often to catch his breath. It's the pain that's bothering him. Had he been brought back in his youth, Regis would've easily combed through this city by now. However, the adverse effects of the Crystal's magic stolen what was left of his youth and aged him. This is why he seeks shelter so desperately now.

There's no possible way he could defend himself from the monster that hunts him, not without his magic. The Crystal is too distant for him to call upon and the Royal Arms heed a new master now; his son.]

It comes. [Regis whispers through gritted teeth once the shuffling behind him grows more fervorous. He quickly ducks behind the safety of a brick wall eroded by time upon the right of him. The king lingers there for a time in absolute silence as the hungry growls of the beast become louder.

In between the cracks upon the wall, he spots a slither of white detailing his foe for the first time.]

Upon Death's march, a white ghoul hungers.

[He mutters ever so quietly to himself as he watches from in between the cracks.]

[Scenario III.]

...M-My pardon?

[The look upon the king's face is absolutely priceless as he stares at this half-naked man with a look akin to muted horror. It's not often that Regis looks so aghast. Then again, it's not often that some random bloke gifts him with a pair of pants.

A pair of pants that they oh-so-causally took off to present to him. That's a first. The first and the bloody damn last time, Regis hopes.

He stares down at the prostrated middle-aged man with absolute look exasperation upon his face. Honestly, who makes this garbage up? Regis slowly runs his hand over his face with a deep sigh.

This is absurd!]

Arise. You embarrass not only yourself but me in turn with such antics.

Scenario one. (IM HURT)

[kittycaterer]

[ He can't question how he got here. Noctis has done that far enough in the past weeks, winding up in places he would have never known of prior to the requirements of his inevitable ascension. But that makes this no less unnerving... Noctis found himself alone before. Deep within a fortress in hopes of locating the Crystal and his best friend.Wandering streets by himself should be no different... but not being able to find Prompto prior to this has him tense, uncomfortable, and angry. That's why he's bothered about not knowing where he is. ]

[ Now something sinister is lurking in the dark. ]

Great. Just what I needed.

[ Not to mention he's out of his weapons. Thankfully, his father's sword and the Ring of Lucii keeps him company. Noctis hand clenches into a fist, the power within the ring still causing him pain and discomfort. Noctis comes to a halt when he hears the creak of metal, the King's brace. But he doesn't connect the sound, given his father's passing. He hisses, clenching the handle of his sword. ]

Damn it... Show yourself! Quit playing games and get this over with!

Sidney Prescott (Scream Film Series)

[woodsboroscreamer]

(1)

[Sidney had pretty much perfected the duck and run thanks to being the target of choice of Ghostface. So cue tiny looking girl basically waging a one woman war against something out of Randy's movie collection. She hung a sharp left and sent another creature packing in the process. But there was one problem, ammo was running low.]

Rule 1. There's always a sequel. [That was before cocking her pistol and blasting a round of bullets. Ghostface has also made her a pretty mean shot to boot.]

Now to find more ammo.

lunafreya nox fleuret • final fantasy xv • contains spoilers past ch. 9!

[devotional]

FEAR.

[ While Lunafreya can’t claim to have seen many daemons in an up-close and personal capacity during her lifetime, she has to admit that these creatures are unlike anything she has ever seen before. They are massive, with wicked looking claws and even more wicked teeth, lumbering around in a way that can only be described as “excessively aggressive.” While the Oracle certainly knows her way around a trident, she finds herself unarmed and defenseless, giving her no choice but to hide within a conveniently-situated alleyway between two small buildings, waiting for the trouble to pass.

She feels she’s scarcely had any time to breathe, let alone think. This strange, new place is one she had initially mistaken for the Beyond, as that would be the only location that would make sense. Luna’s memories are a blur of color and sound, the final thing she remembers being her vision going black as Leviathan’s Astral energies consumed her beneath the crushing weight of Altissia’s bay.

Anyone who comes upon her will see that she wears a fine silken dress, torn up the side and worse for the wear; a large, dark red stain blooms across the right side of her torso, the fabric covering her flesh torn in a slit but revealing whole and healthy skin underneath. She sits stock-still, poised to dart out from her hiding spot in the event of discovery by the lumbering creatures wandering the streets. If she’s scared (and she rightfully is), she certainly doesn’t show it, her face a mask of calculated determination and will.

When she finally does move, it’s likely because she’s heard someone shuffling towards her, and she twirls around, long, blonde hair flying in a curtain behind her head. Her eyes are wide in surprise and what is undoubtedly fear, though the expression disappears in the span of a heartbeat, replaced with a look of worry. ]

I do not believe they have noticed me yet, [ She breathes, keeping her voice low. ] Pray, keep your distance and do not venture further this way, lest--

[ And with that, one of the creatures roars. ]

DELIGHT.

[ As the Oracle of Eos, Lunafreya is no stranger to gifts, though she very rarely accepts them, feeling that her duties are to be expected and not rewarded. While she is grateful for any and all tokens presented to her, she’s mildly taken aback by the way a certain individual abruptly and dramatically rips their shirt from their person, proffering it to her with a smile as wide as the Duscae region. ]

My dear friend, [ She begins, affecting a confused but friendly smile while taking a step back. ] I… I thank you for your generous gift, but I could not in good conscience accept something so valuable. It would please me more to know that you will not succumb to exposure with it still in your possession.

[ She can’t help but wonder at the sorry state of her own clothing at the presentation of such a unique gift, and when she looks down at the tattered remains of her dress, she supposes that she can’t really blame the person in front of her for wanting to assist. Though appearance means very little in the grand scheme of things, she looks a right mess. ]

Marian Tenebris (Original)

[einselective]

II: Rage

Marian found a good warm jacket after she arrived. It's so cold in these caves. Nobody else can feel it, but she can. It's too cold everywhere, now. But since she woke up, the jacket had to go. Just seeing it around was getting her mad.

So, still thinking she was freezing, she'd gone to the shops in search of something new. But every time she found a new article, she finds herself flying into a blind rage.

Flinging a nice warm-looking hat across the store, she finally can't help but utter a frustrated exclamation. "Augh! What is wrong with with me? What is wrong with this place?!"


III: Delight

Marian clearly doesn't feel very delighted about this. In fact, she's downright nervous, checking her watch as she approaches. Her eyes even dart down to it again as she extends her hands, carrying an odd-looking kettle found in the shops.

"Here. Found this. It's for you," she says, more in fits and starts rather than deliberate short sentences, anxious to complete the gift giving and get away.

Rage

[fracturedbeauty]

Yukari's out with hardly much of anything better to do. So he's settled on shopping, seeing what this world has to offer. The choices of what they have in selections has always been rather peculiar and he wants to see what's worth working with.

As Yukari walks into the shop, he swiftly dodges the path of the hat, smirking the general direction from whence it came. Looks like there's someone having a problem with the merchandise. He chuckles and casually strolls her direction.

"What is wrong with you?" Less of an accusation and more in an amused tone. "Just what did that hat try to do to you, Silver-chan?"

Dr. Hannibal Lecter | Hannibal

[tablewithoutpity]

rage

Hannibal has only experienced true anger a couple times in his life. Far more common was a calm distaste at rudeness that would lead to a carefully methodical murder, with the body artfully displayed and a well chosen body part prepared for a dinner he shared with colleagues and friends (or, in almost all cases, people who believed they were friends). The last time he felt rage he was standing over his friend and betrayer and would-be murderer and would-be victim, as his friend bled, gutted by Hannibal's knife.

Yet now he feels that again, that strange emotion so strong that inside he is trembling with it. On the outside, he was perfectly calm, smiling at the people he passes on the street, even when those people are wearing the most hideous jackets Hannibal has ever seen. Really, they are just rude in their complete lack of taste. The rage mounts until it is quite clear that he will simply have to do something to alleviate it. Perhaps something to the next person he sees with that plainly offensive fashion sense.


Delight

Hannibal has been cooking again! He smiles to everyone he knows and offers them a container of soup. He's made far too much, he explains, and it gives him such satisfaction to share his culinary creations with others.

What sort of soup is it? Boeuf bourguignon he explains, a fine french stew. Mustn't let it go to waste. An animal of this quality is so rare.

Rage. Hello dear ^u^

[feelslikeimspilling]

It's common knowledge that Will Graham isn't known for his fine attire and exquisite taste in clothing. Sticking to natural, earthy colors and often wearing jackets two sizes too big, he dressed for comfort rather than compliments. Will felt better if he just blended in, the less attention he drew to himself while out in public, the better.

It had been a while since he'd last seen the good doctor, and he'd certainly not seen him here in Hadriel yet, so, needless to say, Will was a little startled at his sudden arrival. It was good to see a familiar face there was no doubting that, but Hannibal being here was a double-edged sword for Will. He was sure the doctor was trying to frame him, he was certain the doctor was, in fact, a mass murder and then there was the possibility that Hannibal was just a hallucination.

Will furrowed his brow a little, nearing Hannibal from across the road, wanting to get a bit closer before he called out his name. He had to be sure he was here, he was real.

... Hannibal?


(ooc: Will's from towards the end of season 1: Episode 13 for his canon point in game. Last thing he remembers, is coughing up a certain someone's ear :( also sorry for the delay! <3 )

Leonard Snart | DCTV

[frostyfelon]

[ F E A R ]

[Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He was in time to draw his gun before it was upon him. The Cold Gun whined as it charged to fire, but never hit its target. Instead, it slicked the ground with ice before he was batted off his feet. Well, this was a fun morning already.

By the time he realised the gun was no longer in his hand, the beast was bearing down on him. Cold was left with no other choice than to roll to the side and to his feet, opposite his gun, and run.]

Do I look like Rudolph to you?

[ R A G E ]

[Generally, Snart was calm, collected, and not ruled by his emotions. Few things set him off, and even fewer pushed him to a point where he was enraged enough to succumb to impulsive decisions. Quickest way to draw his ire was through his sister. Even then, he was still cold and calm when he dealt his revenge. Cold was his thing.

However, this burning rage in him was so abnormal for him that he didn't know what to do with it. Rationally, he knew he must give off the same countenance as his partner, Mick Rory. Rory did burn hot and was prone to exploding at the smallest of provocation. Snart was often his tethering anchor, keeping him from burning the world down around them.

Not today. Today, he felt like joining Mick in burning the world. His trigger finger was itchy and his fuse was short. Do not tell him to calm down. Calm, polite, defusing tactics are grating against his nerves today. He knew there was a scowl set in his features and his fists were balled at his sides, shoulders bunched up tight.]