dankmemes | TEST DRIVE MEME #5

Entry tags:

!test drive

TEST DRIVE MEME #5

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 January 25th, and apps are open February 1st.

Two quick points here as well:
1. Any thread made in Hadriel's test drive will be accepted as the sole Action Log sample in the application.
2. All threads made in the test drive can be considered game canon, 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: HERE KITTY KITTY
[The Door brings in all that is chaotic and evil in the world. This may include you, may include the person next to you... and may include the monster behind you.

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

These cat-like monsters can use elemental magic to attack, as well as their teeth and claws. When injured, they can cast a spell that will drain energy from their attacker and give it to them - and they are even able to temporarily petrify you. So if you decide to fight, let's hope you can finish them off quick!]

SCENARIO TWO: BURIED ALIVE
[What a wonderful day to find yourself - or a friend, or a stranger - buried six feet under. Covered in thick earth, the sturdy oak walls of the coffin trapping you in darkness, all alone. Not a soul to hear any cries of help.

Either you're in a coffin yourself, trapped, hoping for rescue, or you've got a GPS, a set of coordinates, and a shovel. Will you try to claw your way out of your possible grave, using only your bare hands and pure terror? Or will you be the one digging, hoping that down below is someone you love, waiting for you to unearth them?

Just don't take too long. Their air - your air - could run out at any moment.

This is a mini version of our Buried Alive event this month!]

R A G E

SCENARIO THREE: PET PEEVED
[Everything seems to be going just wrong enough to drive you right up the wall. Maybe your shoes keep coming untied, or you slammed your finger in the door while you were leaving the house. Maybe your friend keeps using the wrong form of 'your/you're' when they text you. Maybe that guy in the shop with you won't get off his damn phone.

Whatever it is, your day has been full of tiny annoyances, enough to leave you on edge and just about ready to explode. They're such little things, nothing that should inspire so much anger, but one after another - well, shouldn't anyone understand why you're mad?

And then someone else comes along, perfectly primed to push your buttons. Maybe they keep pronouncing your name wrong, or they won't stop staring at your scar, or they have hair just the right color to remind you of your last ex. You're already primed for a fight, and they seem just as pissed as you. What will you do?]

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[#1]
[An animal disliking her is nothing new. Most of them know better than to approach death; they keep a healthy distance, as they should, and the most she's accustomed to is a little barking, a growl or some aggressive posturing.

This is neither of those things. This is a low rumble behind her, followed by a screaming yowl, and a moment later she's diving to her right, dropping the cigarette in her hand and rolling across the hard ground. It only buys her a moment as the large cat lunges past, and Hel pushes herself to her feet again as it wheels around again. Its teeth are bared, and her eyes are narrowed, glaring at the creature. Her voice slips out between clenched teeth, hard and cold.]

This is not a fight you want, beast.

[#3]

This has been a Day to end all days. She's been brought here against her will. The cat creature burned a hole in her favorite jacket. The powers controlling this place refuse to answer her, the inhabitants are the most irritating mortals she's ever had the displeasure of listening to, and now to top it all off--she's out of cigarettes. And apparently, no shop here seems to stock them. Running fingers through raggedly cut hair that's already a mess, the tall woman voices her displeasure to anyone close enough to hear:

"Humans have been finding plants to set on fire and inhale for literally millennia. How does this godsforsaken place have nothing, nothing even remotely resembling a damned cigarette??"

[ from somewhere behind her comes a low, threatening hiss-- and then the slap of bare feet on the concrete. a moment later, a figure shoots past hel, flinging itself at the creature. mostly human-shaped, sexless in appearance, nude save for a sort of makeshift skirt that was obviously an afterthought, snakeskin gleams in patches on its slender back. fingers that end in wicked-looking claws tear into the yowling, fighting cat-- and jormungandr opens his (her, their perhaps-- what is gender to a monster, anyway?) mouth. wide, wider, teeth lengthening, fangs and shark's teeth gleaming as they clamp onto the feline's neck.

he clings, bare feet raking at fur as he tries to hold on, jaw clenching in an effort to find and snap the creature's spine.

there's a lot that the world serpent doesn't understand about being here, hel feels different and doesn't look the same as he remembers, but none of that matters at the moment. no one threatens his sister, no matter how well she can take care of herself. ]

[She isn't expecting help or rescue. Neither have ever been forthcoming or necessary at all. She's been on her own since she was a child, since they separated her from her siblings out of fear and ignorance, all for the deeds of her father and a gibbering old man's prophecies. She's always stood alone.

She stands alone again now, near frozen, as she hears a gods and watches blur rush by to the attack. There's a scent she recognizes in the wind as it blows by, something cool and dry, the smell of scales, but he looks so different--

It's the fangs that sell her, fangs and scales and the way he fights, and even if this creature isn't actually her brother it's close enough to send her running for the fray as the cat swipes at its opponent with a wickedly clawed paw. She reaches for the beast with a bare hand, catching it by one furred haunch, and after a second the fur begins to fall, muscle below the skin withering away to nothing. A wasting touch. She will not let it hurt him. If it is him. Secretly, deep down, she lets herself hope. It's been so long.]

[ the cat shrieks, staggering under the touch and the ripping, tearing of wicked teeth. it gives jormungandr the opening he needs-- he bites down again, finding the spine at last, and a moment later the sickening crunch of bones snapping sounds in the air. the creature slumps to the ground, the serpent still tangled around it. only when it's stopped twitching does he release it, lifting himself away and rising on slightly unsteady feet. blood and fur mar his mouth--far more human now, his instinctive shapeshifting adjusting his form once again--and he lifts a hand to wipe the back of it carelessly over his lips, smearing the blood more than anything.

he blinks, eyes wide and poison-green and serpentine in his face, and seems to brighten at the sight of her. ] Ssssister. [ his hands reach, then pause uncertainly, puzzled about the right gesture to make. his contact with mortals is rare, and seeing his siblings like this is unheard of. being in this shape makes everything confusing. ]

[She clings tenaciously as the cat thrashes, her grip tight despite the small abrasions and the scrape of claws through the leather of her jacket. It can't last long with both of them here, and there's blood flowing hot and free over her hands by the time she hears that crack and the thing shudders to stillness.

It takes her a moment to climb back to her feet, breathing hard and her clothing askew. None of that matters as she looks more closely at him, at this strange new shape, at those bright eyes that are the one thing she can recognize. The creature behind them, if nothing else. It's him. It's him, and whatever gods think they rule this place will regret this day. The smile that breaks over her face is fierce and savage and delighted all at once, and she reaches out to take his bloodied hands in her own.]

Brother. It is you. You're...smaller than I remember.

[She's tall, in this form; an inch or so shy of six feet, angular and long-limbed, and her skin burns hot, almost feverish. Not the same as before, but which of them is?]

[ much smaller, in all likelihood. in this near-human shape, jormungandr would be considered petite, even, leaving him looking up at his sister. not that shape matters much; he'd inherited that much of their father, at least, and his shapechanging is untaught and natural. he might look entirely different tomorrow, or an hour from now, but the creature beneath his skin is always the midgard serpent.

his fingers curl in her own, careful of his claws, and he steps closer, hardly believing it. they'd been children the last they'd seen one another, before they'd been torn from their mother and one another. he hears tales, now and then, but it's not the same as seeing her, being able to touch her.

he blinks once and doesn't smile, human expression still difficult for him, but the entire sense of him is warm and grateful and fiercely loving. ]

I do not wear thiss shape often. [ he glances down at himself briefly, bare feet curling against the concrete. ] .. Not many mortals in the deeps. [ his gaze lifts once more, and he lifts her hands, clutching them against his chest as if afraid to let go. ] We will not be separated again. Yes?

[He's tiny. Part of her wonders where the rest of him is, all the shimmering coils of scaled muscle. Where does it go, when he shifts? She's always wondered. Maybe he turns it inward, as she does with her decay. No more bones on the outside, as they used to be, though neither brother had ever loved her less for it. Even as the flesh grew and withered over her small frame, they had never been scared. Not like the rest of their extended family, with her constant reminders of mortality making them face their fear of death. Even gods can die.

But whatever his size, his shape, he still looks at her the way he always did, and her smile only broadens, fingers twining carefully through his claws.]

Not yet, though I imagine it's only a matter of time. They've explored all the rest already.

[As he draws her hands to his chest, she steps closer, expression growing more solemn, dark eyes intent on his own. A quick shake of her head expresses her opinion, her vows.]

Never again. We stay together, as we were meant to be. And we'll find a way to free our brother, as well.

[A touch of rue enters her expression, something closer to her customary irony.]

It seems we owe the gods of this place a debt. For our reunion, if nothing else.

"I know, right? It's like these assholes aren't even human or something."

Nick laughs, low and sarcastic, as she exhales a lungful of smoke from where she stands leaning against a nearby wall. She has cigarettes, a small stash she's carefully hoarded since unwrapping them during the gods' attempt at Christmas - pretty much the only thing these assholes have done right, in her estimation. Too bad she's not exactly in a sharing mood.

She's no stranger to sarcasm or harsh humor. There's no outrage in the nearly black eyes that fix on the girl and her cigarette, just enough disdain to make clear exactly what she thinks of this frankly boring conclusion. "Even the gods have vices," is the acidic reply, "And gods require tribute from mortals. Who, as mentioned, tend to enjoy inhaling whatever substances they can get their hands on."

It isn't like she needs the nicotine, honestly. Her body doesn't exactly function as a human's should. But she enjoys the habit, and the scent reminds her of better memories. To have to go without is...inconvenient and undesirable. To say the least.

"Well, if these fuckers want my cigarettes, they can pry them out of my cold, dead hands," she says, tapping ash off the end of said cigarette. "They've put me through enough bullshit already, so I say they owe me.

"Yes, I see your suffering is immense." The words are accompanied by a roll of her eyes, as she gives up the search for cigarettes on shelves and instead goes to rummage beneath and behind the counter. "Where did you find cigarettes in this place, anyway?" She's been looking.

Nick is no stranger to eyerolls and sarcasm, being perfectly fluent in both herself. She doesn't much appreciate the insinuation under the other woman's words, that her suffering is, in fact, not worth noting. "You must be new here." That's the only reasonable explanation, right? She must not know what these assholes have done or are capable of doing.

"They were a present," she says, coolly, bringing the cigarette up to her lips again to inhale.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

TEST DRIVE MEME #5

Hel | Norse mythology-ish

one! hope you don't mind........

Oh my god why would I mind

w-well, you never know u///u

I never get siblings! :D

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two, mwahaha.

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