test drive meme # 25

[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 October 25th, and apps are open November 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: THEY'RE GOOD DOGS BRENT
[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.

It looks like this time the Door is going for something very literally evil. This time, you get to play with some hell hounds, from various exciting places but in this case the Forgotten Realms tabletop setting.

Hell hounds are dog-shaped creatures, but you know... just a little bigger than normal. Or maybe a lot. They've also got glowing red eyes and smoke coming out of their mouths, because of course they do. They like to hunt in packs, and particularly enjoy surrounding a vulnerable target and breathing fire at it. Or biting. Whatever works! Yay, dogs!]

D E L I G H T

SCENARIO TWO: A SONG IN YOUR HEART
[It's a beautiful day, a beautiful morning, and on a day like this, all you want to do is sing! Okay, maybe you don't normally, but you sure do today. It seems like every moment calls for a new song, every little bump in the road can be paved over by singing about it. Even if you're upset or sad - well, a ballad is sure to make you feel better!

So let it all out, sing your heart out, and maybe throw in a dance number or two. Or maybe someone else is singing to you - a love confession? A song of thanks for all you've done? A catchy little ditty about how annoying it is that you always use up all the hot water? The sky's the limit!

Then again, maybe you're the one person not singing. Maybe you've managed to resist the urge, and think everyone else is absolutely bonkers. Go ahead, stare at them in horror as they serenade you. We're sure they won't be offended!]

C O M B I N A T I O N

SCENARIO THREE: BRING ME A DREAM
[You fell into a deep sleep the moment you laid your head down tonight - even if you don't usually sleep. And now you're dreaming, as would be expected. But this dream seems more vivid in some way, suffused with emotion. It could be a frightening dream, an angry one, a sad one. One full of hope, or a dream of the one you love, or a happy memory. Maybe it's just a confusing or calming dream - but whatever it is, it's soaking in that particular emotion.

And you aren't the only one there. Someone's come to visit your dream - they could be a stranger or a friend, or even an enemy. You can't shut them out, and you can't choose who they are. They'll be there with you in that dream, experiencing it. Unless, of course, you're the visitor, and you're in someone else's dream. Enjoy the show, if you can.

This is a mini version of our Dreamwalker event this month.]

Comments

Asher Mir | Destiny 2

[gensymscribe]

FEAR
[As A Guardian, Asher Mir is all too familiar with ending up in strange places with stranger foes. He's even had some experience with losing his grip on consciousness in one place, only to wake up in another altogether. The circumstances are different now... and less desirable. Before, it had been his exhausted, agonized collapse outside the sprawling Pyramidion on Io, only to find he has somehow been brought to a quiet medbay in the Tower--a safe space where agents of the Light like him could go to rearm themselves, or to recuperate.

This time... well, he'd still collapsed on Io, passing into a fitful slumber in his little research outpost. It's where he's woken up that's the problem: he doesn't recognize anything about this place, and that was deeply troubling--and more than a little vexing--to a man who liked to think he could come up with all the answers. At least this time he isn't sporting any new horrifying machine appendages.

... Not yet, anyways. As he picks himself up out of the dirt and starts brushing the dust off his robes, he spots something that nearly makes his heart stop: a pack of glowing red eyes staring at him from the dark recesses of this ancient structure. Cold terror trickles up his spine to seize his brain, and for half a second, Asher's mind suffers a debilitating flashback to the transtemporal, cybernetic war machines that imprisoned and experimented on him. It isn't until one of the creatures leaps out at him, followed closely by its pack members, that he realizes his error.

Asher Mir does not often revel in his mistakes, but the relief he feels at the knowledge that he's facing a pack of simple beasts and not the sprawling, coldly calculating Minds that had tortured him once already is so profound that he's able to snap into action. Having to fight isn't ideal for a man of his affliction, but he's not ready to lay down and die yet. And so he extends his flesh and bone arm and aims it at the first of the hellhounds-- feeling the Light ripple through his body, warring with the corruption seeping into him through his transformed limb-- and dispels a concentrated blast of Void energy right at the beast. It lets out a snarl before its body warps, twists, and disintegrates into nothing.

One down, too many to go for a man of poor health running on poor sleep. Asher curses under his breath as he readies another surge of his Light, but is not quite able to resist expending what of his energy remains on his usual cantankerous squawking.] Ikora! Assistant?! I require immediate assisstance! Where are you blasted fools when I actually need you?!

DELIGHT
[Given his no-nonsense outlook on life, his irascible demeanor, the recent trauma he endured in the heart of the Vex Pyramidion--and the terminal affliction that was born of said torture--Asher was not a man given over to feelings of Delight so easily. In fact, the only thing that niggling little desire in the back of his mind had managed to elicit in him was further irritation. Why did he feel like singing? He had nothing to sing about. He has been displaced from all he knew, from any research avenues that might have provided him some sort of... alternative to his ever-encroaching demise.

Lacking any other alternatives, he would have to gather more information about this strange cave so that he could set up and try again... but it was hard to make any progress in that regard when everyone else he came across was too busy giving in to the inclination to be even remotely helpful. He wasn't surprised at that last part; most people, he'd found, were useless--too simple to provide a mind as well-equipped as his with much he hadn't thought of already.

But walking around, trying to get things done despite the weariness plaguing his body and the pounding against the inside of his temples? Their disgusting, cheery droning only adding to his growing headache? This was a special kind of hell, one so ludicrous yet so effective that Asher wasn't entirely sure he hadn't been dropped into a Vex simulation with the sole aim of torturing him. He wasn't a man given to hiding his ire on the best of days, but with everything he'd been through in such a short period of time since being brought to Hadriel, the cantankerous Warlock seemed to snap fairly quickly, his ire unleashing itself upon the next person unfortunate enough to break out into song near him.]

Cease your inane intoning, you insufferable wretch! Is it not enough that I have to put up with encroaching beasts and concentration-shattering landers in my day to day life?! Must you add to my frustrations as well? I need peace and quiet if I am to get anything done, so be gone with you before you waste any more of my time!

fear;

[dustco]

[The barking of dogs shouldn't unsettle Weiss the way that these things did. While she was familiar with fighting beasts of this stature and speed, their being capable of internalized flame was something wouldn't dare underestimate, least of all in a place she had yet to fully understand.

She was a Huntress, after all. She had to step up and fight off those who would terrorize those who couldn't defend themselves. That's how she got into this mess, wasn't it?]

I have you!

[This person is injured. Loathe as she was to use what little dust she had, the situation was dire as far as Weiss was concerned. She would rather someone go "home" safely than abandon her purpose for fighting to begin with.

And with a flourish of her weapon, a ghostlike glyph appears at the ground beneath Weiss, a faint feeling of energy chilling the air as she slams the blade to the center of it... and allowing glacier-like points to explode from the ground and into their torsos, blade still held at the ready to face anything that wasn't phased by her attack.

If anything, the icy points in the ground would at least slow the creatures down.]

Are you okay?!

seoya park / oc / will match format.

[arcuballista]

delight/ i'm under every influence

Have you ever heard the story
Of a man named Tony-

( It's a silly childish song, simple in its structure. Easy for just about anyone to make sound good, but the voice carries, crystal clear, across the street in a way that suggests its owner is not unfamiliar with the concept of vocal lessons. )

Went away to the store one day-

( Seoya hums the tune as her fingers trail the stained glass of the shop windows, steps light and easy - not quite a dance, but certainly more than walking. )

Bought his horse fresh hay
And you, fair friend, what do you say?

( Hi, stranger. Feel like joining in? )

fear/ and this ain't making any sense

( You stand in a clearing, alone, save for one young woman with a crossbow, dressed in simple suede trousers and a dark blouse. The grass underfoot crunches, yellowed and dry, each step coating shoes in a layer of dust. Surrounding trees stark, bare, bark peeling away as the wind howls and swirls around the circle until there's nothing but dirt and the burning orange of a sky alight in vision. )

Crap-

( Seoya coughs as she turns back, reaching for you with her head ducked and eyes screwed tight to try and protect herself against the debris flying around in the tornado. )

Come on, we have to leave! Quickly.

( This isn't a suggestion. Something's coming. )

Delight

[hoperulesdespairdrools]

[And just behind you there loud, enthusiastic clapping.] Amazing!
That beautiful voice just fills my heart with joy and hope! How wonderful!

[Wait. Where did he come from?]

fear!

[gensymscribe]

[Asher is suffering from the disorientation of waking up in another place entirely from when he'd passed out--again, he could only hope this would be the last time--when a hand falls upon his arm, tugging at him roughly. Not just his arm, he realizes in the split second it takes his mind to catch up. His machine arm, the ghastly construct that was fused to his body by a massive Vex mind, its giant red eye watching impassively as its long, pointed fingers tore him apart, wed biocircuitry with flesh and blood--

--The Awoken man hisses and snaps his arm away from... whoever it is that has the thoughtless gall to touch him, tucking the limb protectively against his body. Its digits twitch erratically, as if fighting for some control even now, and his glowing blue eyes regard Seoya from the darkness, filled with alarm and defensiveness.] Don't touch me!! I have not even had a second to postulate how I have found myself here, and here putting your grubby fingers on me, tugging me about! Can a mind not have some peace in which to work?!

fear;

[restinglichface]

[Lup's natural inclination of running towards the unknown is momentarily shoved aside for this dream, which she realizes as such almost immediately after two weeks of this shit, and she scrambles to follow after this strange woman when she bolts.

Whatever is coming it does not seem super friendly.]

Hey so, what the fuck was that?

Feliciano Vargas | Hetalia

[norditalia]

Fear:

[It's not the first time Veneziano falls asleep for a quick nap and wakes up in a completely different place, he doesn't open his eyes too easily and yes... it happened before that people just carried him around either for safety reasons or because they needed him. He usually handles it well, there have been a couple of times he found himself in a prison but Italy always managed to escape, either on his own or with the help of his allies- but he never woke up in a place like the Arena.]

"Eh? EEEH?"

[He jumps on his feet, nervously studying his surroundings while squishing a poor pillow between his arms. Has he been captured again? But who would? They live in a time of relative peace right now why would someone kidnap one of the less important countries of Europe? Italy has no time to focus on what's happening, thought, since a whole pack of hell hounds is charging in his direction... before realizing it he's already screaming at the top of his lungs and running around trying to escape the infernal dogs.]

A song in your heart

"It's another wonderful day in the ca-veeeee~ Someday we'll be out even if it isn't today~ Meanwhile we all sing together the captive's son telling of bad food, lack of beaches and sun!"

[Someone doesn't seem bothered at all by the current weird curse imposed on the city's prisoners... Italy loves singing, even normally he can be heard humming melodies while he pretends to work or tries to focus on something. Italy's just... there, happily approacing others to join their songs, attempting to serenade the ladies of the city or his friends. Who is he to complain if the cave's current 'curse' forces him to sing? He loves it! And while he's aware of his weakness as a country he's also quite confident of his voice.

"When I'll finally go home I'll celebrate with good pasta and wine~ But as long as we're here let's try to have fun with what we have, yahoo!"


Bring me a dream

[Italy is Italy and of course his dream is full of hope, delight and love. He's in a large kitchen with countless pots cooking in front of him, a table behind the man is also full of supplies and he seems focused on preparing specialities from... well, from all over the world. Food that would culturally gross him out aren't nowhere to be seen but he seems to try his best to accomodate all cuisines, this because... well, there's apparently a large party going on in the nearby room: large tables seem to accomodate hundreds of people of different nationalities- or at least those humans in his world call 'nations'.

An old looking Radio keeps playing some old songs still really popular in Italy and from the other room comes only the sound of happy chatters and laughters, Veneziano happily humms some notes while his butlers come back with empty trays of food: a man who is almost the exact copy of Veneziano, just with darker skin and hair, and a tall man who blonde hair, blue eyes and black clothes- he... may be unfamiliar even to those of Veneziano's world, even if he greatly resembles the german brothers Italy adores so much.]

"Who knew all we needed to get them to stop fightning was some good food?"
"Shut up, Holy Potato, of course good food can fix everything! I just don't get why I have to work while the others sit there doing nothing. Oh well... neh, Feli, we're out of porkolt, bigos and that thaiwanese dish..."

[The one complaining, Veneziano's older brother, throws the used trays on the table and they just seem to... disappear, after all cooking is fun but cleaning after the mess made isn't and Italy's dream won't have any of that.]

"Just look around, fratellone, there's all you need around here!"

[That's it, nothing can go wrong and everyone will be happy, friendly and hopefully less focused on working in the future. Who knows, maybe after this lunch they'll have a big siesta together, play soccer, music or something else! He smiles at the two men who are getting back in the dining room with more delicious treats for their guests and sighs happily, nothing can ruin this day. Nothing. ]

[salace]

[Honestly France isn't the courageous and heroic type. He's not. He's grown out of his impulsive, heroic ages, past looking for adventure and conflict. Well well beyond it. So maybe it's strange that he's made his way to the arena. But he's heard that there's a cycle to new arrivals. And if people arrive here, perhaps there's some clue to how to get home? Perhaps?

Or perhaps there will be another familiar face. There have been a couple, after all. So even if he's sure it's a terrible idea, he's made his way to the arena. But he is creeping around carefully. And he's armed this time! Sort of armed, anyway. He's got a... well it's the metal pole to a metal shelf from a store that he's borrwed. Long, heavy and metal. Better than nothing.

Either way, when he hears screaming, France doesn't immediately think it familiar (because he's not the type of friend who knows how his friends sound screaming that is not his thing) but he still wants to help. So Italy, in the middle of his running, will find himself caught by the back of his collar and yanked unceremoniously towards the alcove France is tucked away in.] Chut!. This way... Quickly now. Those are bad dogs, I think and--

[Hold please.] You? [This is not the time or place for reunions, France. Please remember this.]

Delight. I apologize for this terror child, Italy

[unhappycamper]

[Behind Italy the entire time this particular dance number is happening, a small boy rubs his temples while frustratedly glaring off into space. God, this day couldn't get any more annoying. And now this fucking guy had to just start a musical number right in front of him. Isn't it hard enough to get through this city already without a bunch of musical numbers making foot traffic nearly impossible?]

Okay, hold the hell up. That doesn't even make any goddamn sense. How can you have any fun in this shithole? It's a fucking. Cave. You even said it yourself!

Beverly Marsh | IT

[winterfired]

( Scenario 1 )

[One moment Beverly is walking away from Bill, leaving behind the Barrens and finally feeling at least a little bit safe, and then she's here. No sunshine, no summer warmth, no safety. The last becomes apparent when suddenly she hears the sound of growling not far behind her. For a moment she takes a deep breath, shuts her eyes and turns to look.

Just a dog just a dog just a dog. All that weird, horrible, supernatural is over. They defeated that thing. Things should be normal and--

No, that is no dog whatsoever.

Beverly doesn't run though, because she is done being afraid of things. ...that doesn't mean she's not looking around for anything to help out here, backing up slowly. She manages to grab up a rock. Then another. And when the dog-thing goes to lunge at her she pelts one of the stones at it.] Get away from me!



( Scenario 2 )

[First it's just humming. That's all. And that's fine right. Humming is normal.

Then she's singing softly, mostly under her breath. ...not abnormal. But now that she thinks about it weird. She stops. Wrinkles her nose. Calm it down, Beverly.

Back to walking, through the city streets. Then it's less under her breath and much, much louder.] First time was a great time, second time was a blast, third time I fell in love, now I hope it lasts...

[Damn it! New Kids on the Block. Somehow this is Ben's fault.]



( Scenario 3 )

[It's a nightmare. It's a nightmare twisted up in a memory which makes it all the worse somehow. It feels real, but it feels wrong.

There is blood everywhere. The room is drenched from floor to ceiling, down the walls. Beverly herself is covered in it, clothes drenched, face streaked with it. It's not her bathroom this time. This room... it's huge, and endless, and she can't find the door.]

Not again... not again. Let me out!! [Beverly's hands pat and claw frantically at the blood-smeared walls.]

3

[notimpervious]

[There is no way this is real. Heather Taffet tried to drown Booth, but not in blood. This is not how she buried her victims. After two weeks of dreams like this, Brennan is certain she can tell a dream from reality.

This is the former, and a terrible one at that.

There is a child here, her fear palpable amid the confusion. Brennan stays in the doorway she has found -- how, she is not certain -- and calls to the girl in a firm, clear voice.]

This way! I can get you out of here. I am waving my hand high. If you can't see it, then follow my voice. I am here to help you!

scenario 3

[multivitamins]

[ This place is totally messed up and that's before sleep is even taken into consideration. Every day there's something new that makes Eddie stop and lament whatever life choices had pulled him in to this place.

When he goes to sleep, Eddie doesn't think on the idea that he could wind up somewhere else in his dreams and when he looks around the room he can already feel his chest starting to tighten. Blood everywhere. It looked like several pigs had exploded and then some more. He doesn't know what's worse really; the blood or the fact he doesn't know where it came from.

That thought has Eddie gagging, putting a hand to his chest as he does his best not to be sick. The last time he'd seen something like this was Beverly's bathroom when that stupid clown had - ]

Hello? [ Wait is that Beverly? Eddie pauses to gag once again before looking around. This shit is gross and making his eyes water, fuck.]

Barry Bluejeans | The Adventure Zone: Balance

[barold]

Fig. 1: FEAR (C9H13NO3) (C21H30O5)

[It isn't unusual for Barry to awaken in strange and unfamiliar places. Dark, musty caves for the most part, where he'd take tentative steps on bare feet into a cold, cavernous room full of strange things that must have belonged to him, but he couldn't quite seem to comprehend them. Maps with markings and crosses he didn't understand, notes in his own tiny handwriting full of words that made his head spin and struggle, clothing that fit him perfectly in a chest he'd never seen before. A strange coin that spoke in his own voice and told him where to go and what to do next - and surely he could trust himself to lead him in the right direction. So he'd follow his own orders, emerging into a world he barely recognized with a sense of confusion and a dull, heavy aching in the core of his being, unable to remember how he ended up there. That part's not unusual.

What is unusual about waking up this time - it's striking and immediate and hits him as soon as he regains consciousness - is how he does remember. He remembers the IPRE, he remembers the Light, the Hunger, the Relics, Fisher, everything. He remembers why there's a dull, heavy aching in the core of his being. It all floods back so quickly in a crushing, nauseating wave, Barry is shuddering and panting before he's even opened his eyes. Why does he remember now? What changed, what's different this time?

There's snarling, for one. Pacing steps surrounding him. The stench of burning flesh, thick and heavy in the air. There's no time to wonder. As soon as he realizes he's not alone, Barry startles, pushes himself up off the ground, heaving for air as he tries to focus his gaze on the source. It proves difficult. The left lens of his glasses has shattered, cracks in the thick glass fanning out in a web over his eye, making the approaching hounds blur together in a disorienting haze. He can't tell how many there are. But they're all around him, and they're closing in. Terror grips him as the severity of the situation dawns on him. He has no idea where he is or how he got here. He is surrounded on all sides by massive, sizzling beasts, fangs bared in hungry snarls and claws scraping at the dusty ground. The heat from their bodies, curling around them and building deep in their throats is so great it's penetrating his robes, warming his skin, but the chill gripping his gut is making him tremble. He is all alone.]

L... L-Little help? [He calls out to no one in particular. A badly shaking hand reaches slowly into his robes, clumsily groping for his wand - a futile effort, probably, but an instinctual one. Even if he could take out one, maybe two, the rest would be on him in seconds. But he has to defend himself, right? He can't die, not now, not here, separated from his equipment, without a new body, without a contingency plan. He can't risk getting stuck in an incorporeal form when there's a chance she's still out there. He can't be all alone, there has to be someone. Barry tries again, raises his voice, cracking now with desperation.] Anybody? Could-- C-Could use a hand over here!


Fig. 2: DELIGHT (C8H11NO2) (C10H12N2O)

Where'd I put it... C'mon, c'mon...

[It's been a weird day. Most days are weird by virtue of everything being new and confusing still, but usually that kind of weirdness subsides or at least plateaus sometime between lunch and dinner, so Barry doesn't completely lose his mind. Not today. The air has felt weird, the water has tasted weird, the residents have all been weird(er than normal). It's gotten completely under Barry's skin, and he's been unable to sit still and ignore it the way he usually does.

Not to say it's been unpleasant. It surprises him a little to realize he's not bothered by this feeling. It's a kind of jittery excitement, an urge to do... something, to just let everything out and have everyone hear it. To share in something fun and light-hearted. But to do that, he needs to find--]

There y'are! [Barry grins triumphantly as he pulls out several tattered pages from the folder he's been leafing through, his heart in his throat as he studies the familiar markings. It's perfect. Rushing over to the grand piano he'd been lucky enough to find, Barry arranges the newly retrieved sheet music on the little stand and drops onto the stool, hands and feet immediately finding their place on keys and pedals like no time has passed at all. It's like a piece slots into place as he plays the first note. Goosebumps rise on his skin, his shoulders sink, his smile widens, easy and carefree as he plays the song that's been burning inside him all day. Frustrating as it is, especially today, Barry can't sing to save his life.

But he sure as hell can play.]

Fear;

[restinglichface]

[Barry J. Bluejeans. After a hundred years together fighting alongside of the twins, one would think that some of their street smarts would have rubbed off onto you more. If your enemy outright overpowers you, sometimes you just have to get a little creative in your thinking.

The hounds snarl, snapping and frothing at the mouth, advancing on Barry all at once with only the worst of intentions, each ghastly paw forward dividing the human's survival rate for this encounter into fractions.

--Until quite suddenly, their numbers are instantly halved. A wall has risen up just in front of the man, towering above Barry and stretching at least ten yards in each direction. Still, it's most impressive feature is that it's solid flames, burning high and bright and hot, but also completely opaque. Most of the hounds that had been in front of the man are immediately trapped behind it, yelping out in pain at the wave of fire damage that's dealt to them on their side.

Barry should recognize the spell as Wall of Fire, a familiar fourth-level evocation spell that had been used at least a handful of times along their century-long journey together by a certain evocation specialist. Defensive spells had never really been very Lup, but there's just something about a twenty-foot flaming wall that speaks to her liched-up soul.

Naturally, with her trademark spell cast and her boyfriend (momentarily) saved, Lup appears, standing behind Barry and the rest of his pack of bloodthirsty hounds who remainl, her hands casually resting on her hips. Gods, just turn around and look at her, you nerd.]

Hey, boyfriend! [she calls out with that familiar curling grins of hers, the woman's tone far too casual considering she hasn't really had a chance to speak to this man at all in the last twelve years. Unfortunately, their reunion is going to have to come later. There are still hell hounds to deal with.]

You know the drill, Barold. Wall's up for sixty seconds. Think we can put the rest of these puppies down before time runs out? You with me or what?

Asriel Dreemurr | Undertale | Thisavrou CRAU

[pleasereset]

[Fear.]

[Asriel didn't know what to expect once he was thrown into one of the Ingress' portals, only that his world was currently falling apart all around him. It could have been anywhere - another planet, another ship in space-

Or, a huge Colosseum with a bunch of unfamiliar faces. Before he has time to process where he is, the sounds of screams and fighting fill the air as giant hellhounds lunge forward and begin attacking everywhere. He quickly gets up, still disoriented, and tries running wherever could possibly be safe.

He doesn't get far. He doesn't even make it to the exit. He gets cornered against a wall by three dogs, smoke and trickling flames coming from their mouths. Asriel's pressed against the wall, terrified and holding a small, glowing round disk in his hand. It's his only weapon, but he has no idea if it'll protect him against fire.]

S-stay away!

[blessedmaiden]

[There's no Mercy for creatures who attack kids in Rydia's book and the summoner isn't certainly shying away from a battle when someone needs to be protected. The summoner comes running fom the side, as much as she hates stepping in the arena she heard of new arrivals and decided to help, there's a blizzaga yelled to grab the beasts's attentions, a giant shard of ice appears from nowhere impacting against one of the three wounding it.]

Kid, can you run? You need to rush out of here, it's safe outside the arena.

[The green haired woman isn't stepping too much near him, trying to keep the hounds's attention on herself, She can probably buy the kid enough time to escape if she keeps the monsters there.]

Come here, puppies, I'm tastier than him!

Ryou Bakura | Yu-Gi-Oh

[softspokenlandlord]

A. NO ONE FEAR

[Ryou was used to having an extremely unconventional life. You spend enough time wearing an evil piece of gold and being possessed by a dark entity, the lines of weird and unusual begin to blur. But after having been able to live his life freely for a while, sue him. He'd gotten complacent.

Now here he was, running from a horrifying dog. If it wasn't trying to kill him, he might actually consider it interesting, but since he's running for his life...first impressions on this hellhound will have to come later.

He can't run long though--he's not exactly an athlete, as those long limbs and pale skin indicate. Get out in the sun, kiddo. He's already breathing pretty heavily, and a quiet whimper breaks the cadence of his gasps. He can't hold out much longer.]

Help...!!! Someone...please...


B. Not Actually That Bad

[Ever seen Dungeons and Dragons? Well, then this should look familiar!

Except that there's...an elaborately detailed board being put together on a rather large table. The sections of the board are all mostly unique and interlocking, and it appears as if the last piece has been set into place with a firm click.

The architect of this miniature world lets out a relieved sigh, then moves to sit near the head of the board, taking his seat near the castle diorama. There, he picks up a small, unfinished carving and sets about whittling in the details. Occasionally as he works, he picks up a small piece of sandpaper, gently smoothing out the edges before moving on.

He's pretty well taken up in his work, glancing occasionally at a reference photo. On said photo are several high-school aged young men, joined as well by a young woman. It appears the figure he's working on is the shortest of them all, and Ryou's quite careful not to leave any details out. His contentment is pretty obvious; Delight's bound to have a good time with him, though the teen scarcely knows it!]

A

[winterfired]

[Look. Skinny, pale kids should have one another's backs, right? Something like that anyway! Beverly is no sprinter either, but she's quick enough. She comes at him from the left, grabbing his arm and pulling.]

C'mon! This way!

[This way is a narrow corridor through the old stone architecture, and once she gets them both through the low doorway, Beverly is turning around to kick hard at a particularly rickety looking support (half wood half stone and now all crumbling in the doorway.

She doesn't wait to see if it works though. At the very least it should buy them sometime. Then it's back to this other kid, fixing him with a serious look.] Go. I think we can get out further up.

Bellamy Blake | The 100

[jettisons]

i - fear

[Bellamy doesn't have a weapon, but he's not sure that matters, because who the hell knows if these things can even be killed? It's a much more fantastical thought than the ones he's prone to having, but these things are breathing fire and smoke, so fantastical seems to be the order of the day.

He's not stupid. He doesn't actually need to kill these things, just get away from them as fast as he can, so once he's sure most of the hellhounds are distracted, he turns on his heel and runs, sprinting for what he hopes is an exit. If anyone gets in his way or seems to be lagging, he'll make a grab for their arm to drag them along.]

Move!

[It's not a suggestion, it's a clearly barked, and somewhat rude, order.]

ii - delight

[This place is driving Bellamy insane. There's nothing he can really do here, no material way he can help, which means he has a lot of free time. A disgusting amount of free time. After spending the last year either at war or desperately trying to stop it, he has no idea what to do with himself. How do people relax, again?

The speakeasy seems like a good bet. He doesn't recognize any of the alcohol, and he's pretty much lost his ability to chill with a drink without one of his friends goading or threatening him into it, but he's wandered the cave for the past few days and his tiny apartment is starting to feel like a cell, so here he is.

Except... people are singing. A lot of people are singing, and some of them are even dancing. Half of them aren't in tune, and most of them are singing by themselves, creating a discordant, hard to follow chorus of song. After about five minutes, Bellamy downs the rest of his drink, makes a face, and shakes his head.]

This place really is going to make me lose my mind.

time to make things weird FEAR!!!

[aroundthecoroner]

[As he does every month, Michael trudges down to the coliseum to kill things help rescue newcomers. Ah yes, fire breathing dogs. Fantastic. He's so enthused.

He's heading on down to the chaos when someone runs towards him. Which is probably a good thing, since he's going the right way, up until the point where the guy grabs Michael by the arm and starts trying to yank him back in the direction of the exits. Wow, can you not???]

Whoa, hey. [Michael reflexively puts a hand on the hand that's holding his arm, and tries to sort of pry the fingers off. Gently. Ish.]

It's fine, I'm supposed to be here. [He's not, but don't call him on it please.]

Tate Langdon | American Horror Story

[likesbirdstoo]

F e a r. . .

[ It was hard to say if Tate knew exactly what was going on here. He's been through every single door in the house and like hell could he recall a room that looked like this.

Maybe it was one of the new arrivals home? After all, each new Family seemed to try and change the place. Yea but, this didn't even feel like a house at all. More like a vast space, very confusing.

As he wandered around, Tate took note of the people running and screaming from the dogs that were giving them chase or mauling them. He chose not to be seen by the victims, that way he could get real close to the action.

Leaning in, over a rather unfortunate soul. He was so close that blood splattered from the dogs maw and across his face. ]

... Cool

[ He uttered, unaware that while he was making it so the victim and the beast could not see him, he was completely in view of you. What kind of a person simply stands by vicarious in such a situation? ]


D e l i g h t . . .

[ Tate had noticed people were talking in rhyme, he'd call some of it song if the people singing actually had a half decent voice. Keeping himself to himself, slinking in and out of stores and building freely, not at all like back home.

While he chose not to open his mouth for fear of singing himself, Tate couldn't help but answer a simple question when asked, after all, he was intruding, it was only natural someone would ask ' who are you?' ]

Hey! He's the one who likes, all our pretty songs.
And he likes to sing along and he likes to shoot his gun.
But he knows not what it means, knows not what it means, when I say..

[ Well fuck me if that wasn't weird? At least it was a song he actually liked right? I mean, explained a little more than he would have liked but it was perfectly innocent, right? ... Right. ]

D r e a m. . .

[ Do ghosts even dream? He's not even going to question if this is real or not, he doesn't care. Why doesn't he care? Because she's on her way here and she seems to be happy to see him. That's what her note says anyways. That's all he ever wanted, all he had left.

Tate sat there on the beach, only it wasn't night time? No point in thinking about the little things now, what was important was that he was out of that house and she was coming.

He had a small fire, bundles of wood he'd collected earlier, blazing softly already. Warming his hands by the flames, a little on edge as he watched people pass by. Eventually, the fire started to dwindle, the night was at its peak as the stars shone down. A truly beautiful night, yet there was no smile on Tate's pale face. ]

Where is she?

[ Looking around until the flames finally died. Nothing but darkness, not even the moons reflection on the water. She'd stood him up? Why?! She said she'd come! Said she was sick of always having secret dates in the house! Why wasn't she here!? Tate's anger, confusion, and sorrow started to burn as hot as the bonfire he'd been nursing. Tears washed his face as he pulled at chunks of his hair before smacking himself in the face and head over and over again. ]

Ahhgh! You're so stupid! She's too good for you!!

Delight

[gensymscribe]

[It's unclear whether or not Tate's sudden appearance qualifies as "intruding", given that Asher had very little idea where he was or how he ended up here, himself. Not that the Awoken Warlock would ever admit to that--no, there was not an answer he could not find, a solution his mind could not come up with to a problem at hand. And so, when he spots the man, he very suddenly demands who is, very much not appreciating people dropping in without notice.

... And of course, this person is signing too, or doing his best attempt at it. Asher's nose wrinkle; his composure is already frayed from being left perplexed by his latest circumstances--there was nothing so frustration as scrounging for answers, only to come up with little, especially when you fancied yourself as being able to figure everything out. This incessant noise is just another torment on top of coming up short, and it leaves the normally irascible man... well, even more so.]

Pretty? Pretty? The droning drivel devoid of any meaning leaking from your mouth does not qualify as such! The complexity of the universe is, as is a satisfying conclusion to a good quandary. Answers are pretty, if you were to assign a fluffy, inane descriptor to them, particularly to the questions I have posed.

[A moment later and Asher seems to realize he's starting to go on a tangent, so he recomposes himself, tilting his chin up and giving a little sniff as if this is all beneath him.] So, I will ask you again. Who are you? Why must you and everyone else in this bizarre subterranean city torture me with your poor attempts at "singing"?

The Girl | True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys

[thelastjoy]

ii. Fear

[She's never seen any dogs in the desert despite the cans of dog food being a staple of every runner's diet. She suspected the city still had them, but for Girl the knowledge of creatures that weren't sand critters or her own cat was restricted to stories from old timers or pictures in the Zone's questionable magazines. It catches her off guard to see one now, same way the cat had startled her when she first caught it chasing lizards up Joshua trees.

She walks up to the creatures from behind, cautious because she knows what a spooked animal is capable of and Girl's not looking to get bit. That and the size. Maybe that's why her cat has hunched up several steps behind her, hissing like a viper. Were dogs always so big or was that just how things grew when radiation wasn't a problem? She kneels a few feet away from the pack, hand outstretched.]

Hey there.

[She realizes her mistake when the creatures turn all at once, gasp stalled in her throat. Girl may not know anything about dogs but she knows anything red eyed and smoking can't be be good. She falls on her back, rolling to her knees and grabbing the now yowling cat in one shaky move. She gets to her feet and starts running as the dogs snap at her heels. She takes off blindly, concerned more with getting distance than where she's going and ignoring the cat's claws digging red rivers into her arms. When she stumbles upon other people, she doesn't slow down by much. Instead Girl shouts at them as the dogs draw near.]

Go. Now!


ii. Dreaming

[She's used to nightmares. Since Girl was a child, or rather since her childhood came to a violent end, night had come with a promise of panic, of waking up gasping and crying. She dreams of death, more often than not Girl always knows in the back of her mind what she's seeing isn't real. It's just guilt and bad memories catching up to her.

She's used to nightmare; she has no defenses for the pleasant dreams.

The shack is old, with badly patched holes in the walls and boards bleached rough by sand storms. Broadcasting equipment sits on the lone table, most of it clearly thrown together from whatever bits and bobs could be found. It's admitting sound that could almost be called a song, ringing with off-pitched guitar solos and a gravel-voiced singer that slurred over their words. Most of the single room is taken up by music; tapes, CDs and vinyls stacked on every surface. Even the walls show signs of a music lover with snatches of what could be lyrics spray painted where the pictures aren't hanging.

Girl's standing there, in front of the taped up photographs. Some of the colorful faces are family, most she imagines are people the shack's owner had once loved long before Girl was born. She takes down a group shot, thumb near obscuring the face of someone with hair as red as blood. She's dimly aware someone else is in the room, but she's so caught up in the memory of being here that she can't find the will to be on edge. She remembers being in this room back when she was still too small to see out the car windows, playing here during long rainy days and helping Cherri pick songs for the radio lineup.]

I haven't heard this song in years. Pretty sure the tape got busted up in a raid more cycles back then I could count. [She's smiling as she turns to the newcomer.] Band always sounded like shit, but pickin' was slim at the time.

ayyyy 2

[ghoulaid]

( Ghoul decides, very quickly, that this must be a dream of some kind. Nothing hurts, he can't hear any ambient noise, there are no smells- but he is pretty sure the dead don't dream. He wouldn't have thought the dead would have any reason to sleep in the first place, yet here he is. Doing all sorts of things corpses(? ghosts?) shouldn't do. Roaming around in creepy caves, sleeping, dreaming. He's lively for a dead motherfucker.

At least there's someone to talk to in lame-as-shit slumberland. ) You always sounded like shit. ( Because why not defend the honor of a mediocre band? When he catches sight of who he's protecting the band against, he startles- just for a moment. He knows that face. Sort of. He's seen something like it, something younger, every day for nearly a decade straight. Of course he knows that face.

Why he's picturing their Girl so much older makes no sense, but then again, dream. There isn't a reason. Just his psyche being a bitch, probably. ) Ugh, why'd we gotta come here? ( And why does it feel all sad and shit? If he's going to be in a make-believe place, it's going to be somewhere impressive, not a depressing, dusty memory. ) How do I change the channel?

Max | Camp Camp

[unhappycamper]

FEAR (or lack thereof)

[The fortunate thing is that Max is scared enough of being eaten alive by wild beasts that he's willing to run from the hellhounds. He's managed to make it up a tree with the deftness of a ten-year-old, and is currently sitting in the higher branches throwing rocks and twigs at the hellhounds scratching at the trunk of his tree.]

Take that, you piece of shit! [He throws a bigger rock down at one of the hounds and manages to hit him hard enough to get it to back off a bit. He seems to consider that enough of a victory to be smug for a few seconds. That's when he spots a person nearby, cornered by the same fiery dog-things. He yells to get their attention.]

Hey, up here, asshole! They can't get you up here!

DELIGHT (or lack thereof)

[It started this morning when he caught several people humming around him. Then it only got worse by lunchtime, with the majority of people he passed either belting out the most off-key versions of various pop songs or weeping as they sang sad romantic ballads at each other.

Max has completely managed to ignore the impulse to sing, and has instead merely grown irate as the day wears on. He finally snaps hearing someone sing something that really gets on his nerves.

So, naturally, he decides to cuss them out.]

God dammit! Shut the hell up, you shitstain! What the fuck is wrong with you?

DREAM (or... you get the picture)

[Max doesn't really have nightmares. Or many dreams, really. And so it's a little odd when he finds himself in one. But the longer he stays here, the quicker he realizes... none of this stuff looks very familiar. In fact, some parts of it don't make any sense at all. He wanders aimlessly in this dream, be it a happy memory or a horrifying nightmare, completely unaffected by it except for a growing sense of bafflement. Finally, after wandering for what seems like hours, Max asks:]

The fuck is this place?

fear;

[restinglichface]

[The kid yells for her attention and the elf just cranes her neck upwards to catch a glimpse of the boy sitting high above her in a tree. Even with the same feral hounds surrounding her, Lup doesn't look at all put off as they make their advance. In fact, she just grins, shooting the strange kid a quick thumbs up.]

Nah, I'm cool. Thanks for the offer though, kiddo.

[Fire's her speciality, but fire versus fire just a pointless waste of spell slots, so Lup casts a quick thunder wave, a burst of unseen force sending all of the dogs around her flying backwards, stumbling to the ground.]

fun ghoul / true lives of the fabulous killjoys

[ghoulaid]

1. the only good dog is a dead dog (fear)

The fire-dogs think they're hot shit. (Hahah, hot shit.) They're massive, nearly as big as Ghoul himself, but two of them soon lay dead on the ground, and a third is burned by the green ray gun in his hand before the pack decides to scatter. Now it's Ghoul's turn to loom over the corpses, poking at one of the bodies with the toe of his boot.

"You think they gotta be cooked? Y'know, before eatin' one." He glances up, squinting at the humanoid figure nearby and gesturing towards the dogs. "'Cause they're already on fire on the inside," he clarifies, as if people can't put two and two together around here.


2. he just wants to eat everything, let him be himself (delight)

It's not a beautiful day, and it's not a beautiful morning. It's awful, because Ghoul is a fucking adult who is supposed to be impressive and dangerous, yet he can't even open a jar. It's unbelievable. He's gone through all the trouble of rooting through weird buildings, unearthing a glass jar full of unfamiliar looking maybe-fruit, and now it won't pop. It's kind of big, his hands are kind of small, and he's pretty sure some malicious bastard literally glued the lid on anyway.

He should have eaten one of the fucking dogs when he had the chance.

For some reason, his frustration manifests itself through song. He ends up singing the jar an off-key tune about how it's a piece of shit and he hates it, and as he spitefully slides the container down the length of the counter, he wraps up his song with a deceptively cheerful sounding, "And you can go fuck yourself."

The jar gets the last word by smacking against the floor. It doesn't even break.

Ghoul rolls his eyes.

1.

[dustco]

"I..." As much as she knows that it isn't exactly the most polite thing to show obvious disgust on her face toward someone who had similar , the habit is a bit hard for her to break, a little frown twitching at the corner of her lips. "I really don't think they're meant to be eaten."

Unless he really needed to eat that badly. Or if that's what people like him chose to eat. Wasn't this place a fount of different people from different worlds?

"Regardless," Weiss says, drawing her blade with a confident look to the beasts before them. "I will help you defeat them."

Johann the Bard | The Adventure Zone

[moonbard]

Delight

[Maybe others in the cavern are feeling an extra pep in their step today, but for this half-elf bard, any outward manifestations of delight are hidden. Instead, there’s just a look of serenity on his features as he raises bow to rosewood violin and begins to play.

The song is not one any spectators would have heard before, because it is being composed on the fly. In terms of beauty, the sound is somewhere between “as good as Carly Rae Jepson’s Call Me Maybe” and “the best violin song in the world”. Roll a D20 to see if you burst into tears.

When the song finishes, he lowers his bow and turns to the onlookers. His voice, in contrast with the melody he just played, is flat and sad.]

So, like, what’d you think?

Dreams

Hello?

[There’s a party on the moon, and everyone seems to be having a great time. Revelers in uniforms and silver bracers travel from food stands to gaming booths to a dance floor set up in front of one of the domed buildings, lips moving in silent laughter and conversation. There’s only one voice that can be heard, from a panicked-looking bard in a featured hat and colorful pantaloons. He runs up to a group of the party-goers and waves at them.]

Hey, guys, ha ha, very funny. [His monotone voice suggests it is anything but.] C’mon, quit it.

[The other figures keep moving, not noticing Johann’s presence. Johann takes a shuddering breath and cradles his face in his hands. They forgot him. After everything that happened, they forgot.]

Dreams;

[restinglichface]

[Hey, if anyone can provide a little insight on how best to handle being forgotten, this girl has gotta be it, right? Right?

Lup's been getting stuck in dream after dream for the last two weeks, so being dragged into yet another wasn't a complete surprise to the woman. The setting is a little different, though familiar enough for her to know the one dreaming is a member of Lucretia's bureau, and the elf is delighted to see many a familiar face enjoying their time at this killer party set up on the moon. The only thing off is the fact the place is dead silent. Which, Lup's discovered, isn't exactly an uncommon theme in dreams, but a pretty damn annoying one.

She's searching for Taako when she comes across the one figure in this place who can speak, the direction she'd been walking shifting his way immediately. The man, his voice is familiar but Lup hadn't seen him when she'd been freed from the staff, shudders and holds his face as Lup strolls up to him, casually as can be.]

Soo, I heard the milk pyramid bottle game is mega rigged. Wanna cheat the system and just steal their prizes instead?

Orodreth | The Silmarillion (Tolkien)

[crownedinsilver]

F e a r ; throw me to the wolves and I will return leading the pack

[This was not at all where Orodreth had expected to find himself. His brother had built an entire civilization in a network of caves, hidden from sight, but no such place as this existed in Nargothrond. There were no wolves in Nargothrond either. The fair-haired elven king - for that is what he is - spares no further thought as yet to the strange place he has ended up, nor how he could have come to be there. Years, centuries of war have taught him focus in the face of danger, of horror, honed skill into instinct. The hounds snapping and spitting smoke are unlike those he has before encountered, but it matters little; an arrow is swiftly nocked and fired at the nearest of the beasts. Fearsome creatures though these may be, he has seen worse terrors. ]

D e l i g h t ; if I cannot fly, let me sing

[ It is not common for Orodreth to sing as he goes - others in his family are more known for that. And yet he is first humming and then softly singing to himself, cheerful, or at least content, though the song is not the most merry. ]

And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree.
Beneath the stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone,
In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion.

[ He is elven, after all. ]

Song, duh

[bythewaves]

[ softly, hesitantly, a familiar voice answers him ]

There long the golden leaves have grown upon the branching years
While here beyond the sundering seas now fall the elven tears

Finrod | The Silmarillion (Tolkien)

[songofstaying]

d r e a m ;

[ Finrod walks along the strand, sand stretching flat and endless into blackness on his right, dark water rolling sluggishly on his left, meeting the dark sky somewhere hazy and indistinct beyond sight. There is nothing, no gull cry, no stars, save one he is sure does not exist in the true night sky. There is no one, yet the back of his neck prickles and he turns often to look back, as if there might be someone in the shadow or the sea rising behind him. There is no one, but the sea stains his heels red. ]

[so_dark_a_road]

[ Wrong! There is someone behind him, albeit far behind. Just a dark shadow, but Finrod knows him, and may be able to recognize him. This person's dark hair is blowing in a faint breeze, and his dark gray eyes gleam in what little light there is. ]

reimu hakurei | touhou

[dreamsign]

song in your heart)

[ she's a shrine maiden, and there are some habits that are hard to break.

for instance, what is she supposed to do when there's no shrine to take care of?? for the moment, slightly at a loss, she seems to have taken it upon herself to--tend to the temples of the gods. this is autumn near winter, or at least she thinks so, and above ground she would be sweeping leaves into piles for roasting chestnuts and sweet potatoes. here, underground, she sweeps... dust off of the steps of the temples. great. but maybe it doesn't even matter if she's actually doing anything productive or not, the act of sweeping is familiar and even soothing, enough to put her in a brighter mood as she hums and moves along in rhythm to a song.

she almost doesn't realize she's in a remarkably happy mood until she starts to sing, closing her eyes and circling around her broom in an almost idle dance. as a miko she should know the kagura and this isn't exactly like it, they're the movements of someone who rarely lets her hair down to do anything as silly as sing or dance at all, but--she's in a good mood. she's not even really conscious of what she's doing, she just lets herself go with the flow of the song, uncharacteristically cheerful, singing wistfully. ]

[naw]

[what is this...........

the idea of gods manipulating emotion screams of sketchiness to Nah, but what's more sketchy? that? or rando girl having a lil one-person musical number by herself at a temple? realistically the former, but this is so odd and out of place in this city, even moreso than the variety of monsters lurking in the tunnels.

Nah would feel awkward interrupting, so she just watches (from a safe distance).

kinda catchy song, tho.]

Party Poison | Killjoys | who invited this asshole

[deathorvictory]

SCENARIO ONE: THEY'RE GOOD DOGS BRENT

What the shit.

[Says Party. In saying this, he sounds remarkably calm, but there's a fierce wildness in his eyes as his fingers go to the blaster at his belt and he brings it up to shoot one of these shitty mutant dogs right in its entire damn face.]

What the shit.

[Says Party again, his voice lifting half an octave and-- He dodges sharply to one side to avoid a lunge from a beast he barely noticed until the last minute.] Bad dog. [He hisses, and there could be a lot of reasons that he doesn't seem horribly put off by the fact said dogs have fire in their mouths. The most likely is that he thinks he's hallucinating, and the worst thing is just how likely that is.

In a bright blue jacket with bright red hair showing dark at the roots he makes for a fine target in this scenario, and he quickly realises this, clasping the blaster firmly in both hands to point it at first one, then another of the hounds slowly backing him into a corner.]

Shit.

SCENARIO TWO: A SONG IN YOUR HEART

[Party Poison does not sing - not when sober, and definitely not in public when sober - and while the urge has proven difficult to resist he is resisting it.

The first person to start singing at him is getting the best death-glare he can muster, or perhaps a punch in the face, depending on how he's feeling when it happens.

As the day wears on, the latter becomes far more of a statistical probability.]

maybe i invited this asshole.....

[ghoulaid]

( That's it. Rest in pieces, Party. He died as he lived: smelling like mutant dog.

Or maybe not. Without warning, Party's saving grace goes sailing through the air- a large stone, launched from somewhere off to the side. It smacks against a dog's ribcage and bounces off, which will surely calm the animal down.

Ghoul's balanced atop a tall stack of rubble nearby, watching, armed with plenty more rocks and hollered words of encouragement. For the dogs. ) Jump at him again! I wanna see how high his voice goes.

( Jesus take the fucking wheel. )