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?]

Threaded | Flat

[fear #1 - not a cat person]

[This is a very well-buit simulation of what it's like to be in an arena as a tribute. She feels isolated and uncomfortable, there are a lot of strangers nearby, and she just knows there are mutts out there, prowling. Why, she thinks she sees the dim light reflected back at her from a pair of eyes!

She's not sure how she got here, of course, but she supposes it's a new layer of escort training -- to try and get her to understand a little better how the tributes will feel once they've left her care.

Standing, she brushes off her skirt (this floor is filthy!) and heads to the person nearest her.]

What an impressive place! Do you think they'll let us out soon? I'd like to wash my hands and get back to work. I'm so busy, you see, planning my first Victory Tour!

[fear #2 - but a dream?]

[This is just a terrible dream. She's going to wake up soon.

Soon.

Soon.

...right?]

Oh goodness--! C-Can anyone hear me?

[When no one responds, her eyes fill with tears. She's not religious, but suddenly she finds herself praying for rescue.]

[rage - how rude!]

Why is everyone here so rude! [she says to no one in particular.]

Really. They could at least smile when you say hello!

[Manners are serious business.]

Scenario one

[The cat leaps from the rooftop and lands right in front of him just as Firo has the tingling feeling of something watching him. His hand immediately goes for his knife--or where it should be. His prison jumpsuit lacks the sheath that should be holding the weapon, and of course he didn't have it when he left Alcatraz. He curses; this thing is obviously spoiling for a fight, and Firo's not sure how much of one he's going to be able to give to a creature like this.]

What the hell are you, huh? I normally don't make it a habit to fight with a kitty cat, so--

[The thing jumps straight forward. Firo throws himself backwards, rewarded for his efforts with a deep graze on his arm. At least his head didn't get taken off, but he's not feeling very grateful now.]

Damn it...

[But the injury doesn't last for long. A few seconds after it starts bleeding, everything reverses. Blood droplets wriggle back in and the skin seals up.]

Scenario two

[Firo isn't one of those gangsters who's accustomed to burying his own dead--they have other people for that, and he's not the type to go that far anyway. He's certainly not used to un-burying a body either. But try he will, for the sake of whatever poor sap is stuck under the coordinates he got.

He sighs and rests his hands on his knees, taking a short break now that the coffin is clear. Eyeing the surface, he then pokes it rather harshly with the shovel. Good morning, sunshine.]

Whoever you are, you better still be alive in there!

here kitty kitty;

[ Linda isn't as scared of the weird giant cat as she probably should be. In fact, she's not scared of it at all despite the fact that it's baring its teeth and seems to be growling. ]

Awwww, look at you! You with your little fancy whiskers. Are you a peacock? Huh? Are you a little Vegas showgirl with your peacock whiskers?

[ She's suddenly hit with her most beautiful artistic vision yet: a strip show composed entirely of cats, with this little sucker as the main girl. The cat doesn't seem entirely friendly (re: growling, teeth) but that can be fixed. The way to anyone's heart is through food and it just so happens that Linda was in the middle of making a tuna salad before she was brought here and has been toting around a can of tuna ever since.

She pulls it out of her pocket. Finally, little tuna's time to shine.

Except... ]

Dammit, Bob. I told you to get the pop tops,

[ She mutters as she tries in vain to pry the can open. When that (predictably) fails she does the only thing she knows to do. She yells: ]

Hey, anybody got a can opener? I need a can opener over here!

one;
(feel free to tag in with another prompt too btw!!)

[who's got two thumbs and a submachine gun that sets stuff on fire????]

Kittens, really? Is that the best you got?! [yep. this chick.]

[after weeks and weeks of enduring the hellish pandoran landscape and the planet's equally hellish wildlife, this is nothing. she's handling the pack of coeurls on her tail with barely a second thought. which is, really, a mistake. there's no sound more ominous than the empty click of her incendiary gun as it runs out of ammo-- and with her frenetic momentum interrupted, there's still two of the beasts left. they slink forward, snarling and teeth bared. big shocker: they're less than pleased about their buds getting torched, and lilith is a meaty little human appetizer.]

Shit. [her eyes don't leave the two coeurls as she carefully walks backwards, slowly (but purposefully) digging through her pack for whatever bullets she's got left. where's that roland dude (or brick, or mordecai, for that matter) when you need him.]

[#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??"

one;
[kung jin is a certified shaolin monk and a practiced archer, but he's also a former thief. and when you're making do on the streets, you know (for the most part) when it's smarter to back off than to face off against something directly.

so. are you overwhelmed by a bunch of shitty cats? or are you just about to get a really really cool final blow on one? either way, you're in luck, because somebody has settled into the crumbling ruins of some old stone structure a safe distance above-- and he is methodically sniping at coeurls with arrows shot from a very ornate-looking bow.

shout some appreciation up at jin's little alcove or something. you're welcome, hadriel.]

three;

[too bad the 'smarter to back off' thing doesn't apply when kung jin is pissed. and, unfortunately, he was kind of a big jerk to begin with. right now, his frustration's just below boiling point. if someone so much as looks at him the wrong way--]

What? If you're gonna say something, just say it.

[yeah, like that. well, he might just finally snap.]

scenario one

[ as if she could ignore the threat of a monster lurking in this unknown place.

it's not a monster that she has ever seen or one that she can clearly remember. no matter, ciri responds to its low growl and draws her sword from its sheathe on her back. its runes glow a pale greenish-white as she slips into a familiar stance, blade pointed at the beast. since it was anunfamiliar creature, she had to watch and learn its movements quick if she wanted to keep this battle in her favor. she was a witcher, it was her job to destroy monsters like this and hopefully protect whoever else might stumble into its path. there's a twitch of movement from the beast and ciri moves as ice erupt under her feet. magic, she thinks. perhaps this would be worth the effort.

her movements are graceful, precise and she closes the distance between them quickly while dodging the magical attacks thrown her way. once in striking range, there is a falter in her movement as she raises her sword and comes up short. there's a burn in the air and something crackles, causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end. in a flash of green-white light, she vanishes from sight as lightning strikes down where she once stood. a second later, she reappears at its other side, bringing her blade up in an upward motion to cut through its eye before vanishing again and reappearing at its back, sinking her blade into its spine. ]

You'll have to do better than that.

scenario two

[ as a witcher, digging up a body was never a good thing and usually came about in the form of a contract after something bad had already occurred. striga, wraith, ghouls, vampires and rotfiends were but a small number of beastss that appeared near the buried dead. this time, she was not hunting down some monsters but rather trying to save someone that had been cruelly buried alive under the heavy soil.

it sickens her to think that someone would do something like this. her anger boils inside but she continues to dig, hoping to reach whomever these coordinates represented before they ran out of oxygen or the dirt crushed them.

finally, a coffin comes into view and ciri breathes a tired sigh of relief. of course, there was the chance that this could all just be some trick. there could be something much worse waiting to be unleashed. whatever the case, she is ready and brushes some more dirt away and knocks atop the lid. still, if it was someone she should at least try and give them some hope. who knows what must have been going through their minds this entire time while trapped in that thing... ]

Hang on if you can hear me! I'll have this blasted thing open soon.

Edited 2016-01-23 08:39 (UTC)

A: ARRIVAL | SCENARIO TWO

[ Gansey doesn't remember getting here. He doesn't know how it happened, can't remember any sort of confrontation or incident that could have led to this. What he knows is that he's encased in a wooden box. That banging against the sides, and the lid, tells him either that it's thick and solid, or that it's being pressed in place by something else. His knuckles already feel torn and slick from trying to break through the wood, and it's done nothing but give him splinters.

He's in a coffin. Christ, he's in a coffin, and he's been buried and he will die here, or he's already dead and doesn't know it. His heart is pounding in his chest, and he can't get enough air. He feels that there are insects buzzing around his ears, and he knows that can't be right, but the sound persists.

He has had this dream before.

It's not real, he tells himself. It's a dream, and he needs to wake from it, because outside of it it's likely that he's screaming and that will frighten his friends, and they can't know. He has to wake up, and he will before he dies. That's how it works, that's when the fear becomes too much and he wakes up.

His hands have never bled this much. That's a new detail. ]

Help! Help me!

[ It's instinct. He shouts it without meaning to, and then keeps shouting, and can't make himself stop. It's been years since he had this dream.

He has to wake up. ]

B: EXPLORING | SCENARIO ONE

[ By the time he tasted air, Gansey hadn't cared where he was. It hadn't mattered. He'd take anything over being in that box, anything at all. He's covered in soil, can feel clumps of it trapped beneath his fingernails. Gansey never looks like this. He's careful about being presentable, in every way, but right now he couldn't care less.

The problem now is that he's still buried. It had taken him a while to understand, to process what he was seeing. He's somehow, impossibly, still underground. Where is the light coming from? He's trying to put himself back together, to regain the calm and control that he'd lost in the coffin, and that's what he keeps wondering. And then of course, there's the city. The spires climbing up, and the fact that the whole thing seems to fit in one enormous hole in the rock. How does the ceiling stay up?

This is fascinating. It's like nothing he's ever seen, and the part of him that loves things like this is thrilled by it.

The part that just crawled out of a grave only wants to go home.

He's passing one of the spires when he hears the sound. He thinks it's a cat, at first. It has the right look, and it sounds something like a purr. Cats, underground? He takes a step towards it, and then suddenly it leaps out of the dark. The moment that he realizes it's so much more than a cat is the same moment a burst of energy thunders into him and throws him back. Gansey scrambles to his feet, horrified. ]

Christ, what fresh hell are you?

[ Whatever it is, there's fresh energy bristling around its...tentacles, Jesus. He quickly backs off, eyes wildly scanning the area for help. He has no idea how to fight something like this. He edges back and the cat follows, static rolling over its fur. He holds up his hand like he means to tame it.

This isn't going to go well. ]

Good cat. Stay - does this even work on cats?! [ He looks around, trying to catch an eye. It doesn't matter whose. ] If you don't mind, I could really use a hand!

Fear - 1

[Or maybe not fear. Giant cats? No sweat. Sanji has taken down much larger prey than this before, and recently at that. Who or whatever thinks he should be afraid of this is sorely mistaken.

He strolls along with his hands in his pockets, a cigarette in his lips trailing smoke in his wake, seemingly oblivious to the creatures stalking him from the rooftops and alleys. He really looks like he's about to become cat food, as one suddenly leaps down from on high, claws extended...

...only to run slam into his foot as he kicks out behind him and plows it bodily into the building across the street.]

You're going to have to try harder than that!

[Now, if he happens to spot a damsel in feline distress? He'll be there! Right there right now.]

Rage

[On the other hand, it really doesn't take much to provoke Sanji's anger. Finding himself here is irritating enough on its face, but then one of those cat things ripped his suit coat, he's almost out of cigarettes, and on top of that, people just will not stop staring at his eyebrow.

When he reaches the snapping point, he rounds on some guy.]

TAKE A PICTURE, IT'LL LAST LONGER!

[He doesn't even wait to see if someone wants to fight him, his shoe skids sideways and kicks flame up his leg. That's right, assholes, he's already so pissed at everything he's going to go full Diable Jambe on the next person whose eyes land on his spiraling eyebrow.]

FEAR 1

[waking up in strange hellscapes is nothing new to harry. in fact, since he had stepped foot in silent hill, it seemed to happen about every hour or so (an exaggeration, but the fact remained). there would be sirens, he would black out, the world would shift into an amalgamation of blood, rust, and metal, and harry would be left to question what would be left of his sense of reality when he finally escaped.

if he ever escaped.

still, though, a coliseum is new. the city around him? it was nothing like he had ever seen in the inverted world. and this giant cat that's currently staring him like he's a side of beef is not a creature he's had the pleasure of meeting.]

Stay back! [why he's trying to tell an animal not to come near him is beyond him, but it doesn't feel right just shooting it without giving it a chance. he levels the shotgun with the creature, hands still trembling a little even after all the horrors he's had to face. being scared keeps you alive.

being scared also gives you an itchy trigger finger. the moment the thing rears back and something like electricity begins to build at the tips of its long whiskers, harry doesn't hesitate to fire. magic-schmagic; nothing matters when you get two shotgun shells to the face.]

RAGE

[he honestly doesn't understand how people can live day to day angry like this.

there's been a few times where harry's lost his temper, yelled at someone, argued, but those time are far and few in-between. he'd consider his temperament mild at worst. but this kind of vile anger, annoyance at every little thing, is like bile trying to creep its way up his throat. it's awful.

he's trying his very best not to get into an unnecessary fight with anyone, especially since no one actually deserves it. they're all in the same situation, after all. they had to work together. but he can't help it.] Could you please just go away? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but looking at you--! I can't stand you right now!

A. FEAR: SHOCKING

[ When was a door not a door? When it was ajar, of course.

Apparently this Door was very ajar. So ajar that worlds spilled into it, saturating the landscape in a mismatch of people who knew nothing about nothing and everything about something else. Julia among them. Julia, who probably knew the least about anything.

But she knew a little. And she had fought hard for that little.

This wasn’t Fillory. She knew that. She didn’t know what this was. That was the nothing. She knew nothing of this land or why it’d pulled her.

A cat approached her. She paused, tilting her head. Then held out her palm. ]

Here kitty, kitty... [ Her voice was soft, almost empty of anything. ]

B. FEAR: SUFFOCATION

[ Do you know what’s hard to do? Perform hand signals when in a box.

There was no room for hand signals. Julia barely had the ability to lift her hands and push against the coffin. She certainly couldn’t move her hands in the complicated ways that indicated what spell she wanted to perform.

If she even knew a spell to unbury herself. How fucked up was that thought? She had to ask herself if anything she knew could dig her up out of the earth. Blast the earth off her? Scrape it away? How did she even begin to parse this situation out well enough to think of a plan?

She didn’t. That was how.

How long had she screamed when she woke up? Seconds? Hours? Days? Fuck. How long had she been buried alive?

Her breathing had levelled off after the hysterics had ended. “Levelled off.” More like she felt like she was suffocating, so her brain finally kicked it’s ass into gear. She calmed herself the fuck down. She was in a box she couldn’t escape from. She was running out of air. She had to be careful with it. So she forced herself to breath as carefully as she could, far from normal but better than before. Her heart still pounded in her ears.

Magic was out. Prying herself out. So what now? Think, Julia, think. This wasn’t how this ended. She would be fucking damned if she died in a fucking box in god only knows where.

She lashed out with her fist, slamming it against the box as she screamed out. ]

Is anyone there? Can anyone here me?!

[ Pound again. ] Get me the fuck out of here!

C. RAGE: PERTURBED

[ The little things didn’t bother Julia often. Why would they? There were so many big things to be bothered by. Things so big they happened without people noticing they happened. Liars and cheats that reshaped the world with a romantic twist to hide the grime underneath. It happened every second of every day-

She was getting away from herself. This was about the little things this time. The big things would always be there. They always were.

No, today it was the little things. The way it rained when she left this morning. The way it stopped just shortly after she left, highlighting that if she’d waited a minute or two she could have escaped the rain. There was a man who stared too long at her ( was there a stain on her shirt? ) she had snarled at. A bird that wouldn’t shut the fuck up.

This day just needed to end.

Finally, the day had gotten too long. Too full of little things that were swelling into a big thing. A rough shoulder jostled her, knocking her off her path. Maybe it was her who’d run into the person? Who knew. She certainly didn’t remember seeing anyone there.

It didn’t matter. Her hands sparked as she turned. ]

Watch where you are going next time. [ She snaps at the person. For all her anger, she looks half calm. Mostly empty.

It’s there, though. Rising to the surface. How easily it calls to her. How readily she answers. ]

Edited 2016-01-21 22:22 (UTC)

»» BURIED ALIVE.
[Darkness.

Even with his enhanced sight there's nothing but darkness to be found when Cyril opens his eyes. At first, he can't be sure he's even opened his eyes. But after feeling himself blink a couple times he has, indeed, opened his eyes.

Has he gone blind?

He tries to move his hand up in front of his face, even in the dark he should be able to make out a shadow, but he can't lift it very far. It hits what feels like wood. Granules filter down onto his face, causing him to huff.]

What the hell?

[Doing his best to keep his calm he inhales deeply, the scent of dirt fills his nostrils.

Buried, he's been buried.

Okay. It's not the first time he's been buried, his rebirth included that much, but why would he be buried again?

He shifts a bit so he can get a good angle to kick and punch at the wood above him, it's like punching stone. More dirt filters down onto him, frustrating him. Even with his enhanced strength he can't seem to break the box.

It's then that panic begins to rise. He can't suffocate, he's already dead. But he could starve and that's almost as bad as dying.]

»» PEEVED.
[Today has certainly been a day.

Cyril isn't the sort with easy to push buttons, he's usually pretty laid back. But today is certainly doing it's best to get under his skin. He's stubbed his toe more time than he can recall. He's hit his shins on just about anything shin height. He almost put his own eye out at one point when he misjudged the weight of something he tried to pick up.

It's like today is out to get him.

And then he hears something that truly grates on his nerves. A small sound that most people without enhanced sense would easily ignore but he can't tune it out. It's there, impossible to ignore.

He's finally had enough and he snaps at the source of the noise.]

Would you stop that? That... That sound!

»» WILDCARD.
[I'm up for just about anything so hit me.]

magic cats
not the best welcoming committee

[ Hannah cries when she finds herself in the arena.

She cries because she's lost and afraid, and because there's something like a nightmare lingering at the edge of her mind -- something terrible that she can't quite place. Hunger claws at her like a beast, so fierce that her stomach aches and she gags and wretches but there's nothing but bile.

She's shaking when she finally staggers to her feet and makes her way out into the streets. Everything here is strange and unfamiliar, and for a while she entertains the idea that she really is dreaming.

But soon a low growl up ahead startles her into a sort of hyperaware state that makes her forget how hungry and weak and confused she is. When the cat stalks into view Hannah freezes on the spot. There's something familiar about this, facing a creature that shouldn't exist, and she doesn't like it.

She turns and runs as fast she can, throwing glances over her shoulder, until she collides with someone. She clings to them but doesn't face them yet, still frantically watching for the cat. ]

We have to--

[ Her voice is hoarse and cracks from disuse so she tries smaller words, ones that are easier on her aching throat. ]

Go! Run!

scenario 2.

[it's not the first time that cliff's woken up somewhere strange with no memory of how he got there (and had to call his mom to come get him, wherever he was, typically) but it is the first time he's woken up somewhere dark and totally enclosed.

not gonna lie, he freaks out a little. especially once he figures out that he's apparently been fucking buried alive , what the fuck?

he claws uselessly at the lid of his box, swearing the whole time, before figuring out this might be one of the few instances where turning into a wolf at the problem could actually help.

anyone up on the surface searching for people to dig up might hear the howling of a wolf instead of a human, and the scrabbling of claws against wood. sure, it's not what you were expecting to find when you set out on your little digging expedition but the poor creature sounds pretty frantic, you might want to help it out.]

scenario 3.

[this whole place is shitty and annoying and cliff is almost certain that he can find some way to blame his being stuck here on oscar when he finally finds him.

crazy shit was always oscar's fault, and this was coming from the teenager who turned into a giant wolf.

he stalks through the streets, hating everything and everyone he sees, hood pulled up over his head to avoid meeting anybody's eyes and anger simmering just below the surface of his skin, only waiting for an excuse to be released.

then someone passes by too close and bumps shoulders with him accidentally and clifford gets his chance.]

Don't fucking touch me!

one
[Well, she’s not dead, so that’s promising, but—my, that’s a very big cat. Maketh holds herself very, very still, hands out at her side. Not for the first time, she wishes that she carried a weapon instead of relying on storm troopers to back her up. So unreliable. It leads to situations like this.]

All right, creature…

[Can it understand her? Probably not. But it’s worth a shot.]

two

[At first there’s some confusion about the lack of fire. Maketh spreads her hands out, hits the corner of the box. Wood, no ash at all. The texture catches under her nails. Not the metal hull of a shuttle, rebel or otherwise. She takes a shuddering breath. Focus. Concentrate. Just like that.

She’s not dead. But she’s in a tight, dark space, and she can hear dirt shifting above her.

Oh, maker. ]

Please….please let me out….

[Her voice is small. She’s very deliberately not crying]

I’ll be good, I swear it!

1
[He was never particularly fond of cats.

Rome moves quickly, using a hand to leap over a small pile of rubble as he's pursued by two of the coeurls. He's traveling just a little too fast, his movements just a little too fluid to be entirely human, but it hardly matters when he's on the run.

He's wearing a foreign military uniform in shades of brown and a leather band around his throat, which should all be defining enough if you wanted to take a mental note to find him later. Regardless, Rome scampers up another pile of debris as the cats move after him, turning a corner quickly and drawing his pistol from his thigh holster.

He spins, sets one knee on the ground, aims, and waits. The moment the first cat rounds the corner, he fires off three echoing shots and drops the creature dead on the spot. The second yowls in response, letting loose a jet of frozen air that's enough to take Rome by surprise, patterns of ice freezing over the gun in his hand, frost clinging to his hair.]

Oh.

[Not great. He can probably turn and run again, but then he'll just have to face it again eventually. With a low growl, Rome holsters his weapon again, shaking the ice from his hair as the coeurl begins to circle him.

Some assistance might be appreciated.]

2
[It's heavy work, digging up a coffin. Rome can go longer than most people, but he isn't absolutely tireless. The light in the city is artificial, but even that seems to be growing more dim as the hours stretch on, as if to simulate a day cycle- something that would be more interesting to him, if he wasn't in the process of trying to save a life.

He's a few feet down when his shovel hits the coffin through the last few inches of dirt, and Rome pauses, setting it aside for a moment so he can lower himself to one knee and tilt his head to listen for any activity.]

Can you hear me? [He asks loudly, grabbing the shovel with one hand and thumping on the lid of the coffin again, through the dirt.]

Yell if you can hear me! I've got you!

(OOC: Tala's canonpoint is from 3.1, As Goes Light So Goes Darkness. If you wish to opt out of spoilers for all of the Heavensward story please let me know and I'll make sure not to spoil!)

[A normal person or adventurer would actually try their best to fight the feline beasts and run away as soon as possible. However, no one in this place knew T'alabali and how she handled such challenges. Neither did the coeurl because it was currently trying to buck the miqo'te summoner off its back.]

Down boy!

[It was said with a little laugh but given everything she had gone through lately, a big shocker kitty was nothing. It wasn't like she was defenseless or anything. In fact, the creature tried to bite her and she opened up her grimoire, a blasting spell hitting him in the face.]

I said down!

one;;
[ The horrified yelp of a young woman might catch the attention of any passers by, when she finally spins around and notices the horrific cat-like being stalking her, all teeth and claws and way too much muscle. Were demons sending their pets out after her now?

Insulting, tbh.

The tiger? Cat? Thing???? launches itself at her, claws out and drool dripping from fangs that could probably slice through her neck without trying. Paige holds out a hand, locking her legs in place just in case this goes wrong. She's never tried to orb a beast away from her before. ]

Cat-- thing! [ The beast stops in mid air and seems to dissolve into bright light which is quickly pushed away from Paige and towards the nearest hard surface without, it seems, much consideration for passers by. ]

wildcard;;
[[ leave a scenario! side note: voice testing, feel free to hit up my HMD. ]]

Edited 2016-01-25 13:45 (UTC)

[here kitty kitty]

[She's going to kill Josh. No, scratch that, she's going to kill everyone on this fucking mountain for this. For leaving her here with these-- what even are these, fucked up mountain lions? God, she should've just kept the flare gun. It'd come in real handy right now that this thing is staring her down. Hasn't she lost enough tonight? She can't decide if this cat thing is scarier than the wendigos she just escaped from or not, but right now, this is the threat, this is the thing she needs to worry about, so calm down, Em. Breathe. Focus.

Shit, is that electricity crackling in its whiskers?]

Shit. Fuck. Okay. Okay.

[Maybe if she stays still... does this thing work like that? The wendigo seemed to lose interest in her whenever she just stayed still, and isn't that a thing, that running away from predators sends them the "I'm your prey, have a fucking ball eating me" signal? Or, shit, is she supposed to try to intimidate it? Goddamnit. If the others weren't such goddamn shitstains, they'd be here, and maybe this thing would be more afraid of her. There's strength in numbers, right? Or hell, she could stand behind someone. Or throw someone at them. Yeah, how would you like that, Ashley? Fuck you. All you do is whine and cry while at least the others are useful somehow.

Okay. Breathe. Call for the only two people who aren't absolute fucking assholes.]

Matt? Sam?

[Okay, fine, she'll take anyone's help at this point, though they'd better not expect any thanks, not after they abandoned her in the first place.] ...anybody?

[ShitshitSHIT, it moved its head a little!

Okay. Intimidation time. Deep breath, yell at the top of your lungs--]

GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, YOU STUPID FUCKING CAT.

[buried alive]

[What the fuck kind of fucked up prank is this??]

This isn't funny, Josh!!

[Can they even hear her? And she can't text them-- wait, is this a phone next to her? With battery? And signal? Yes.]

Oh, you guys are gonna get it.

Get me the fuck out of here RIGHT NOW!!! [...she posts to the network.]

[pet peeved, or: emily's default setting]

[Literally ALL OF HER FRIENDS are fucking assholes. Except Sam, she's not bad. Kind of lame, but whatever. And Matt, who may have goddamn failed to save her when the tower fell, but he tried.

Threaten to kill her. How fucking dare they? And over nothing! Fuck Ashley and her scaredy-cat ass, fuck Chris for not defending her from the others. Fuck Mike, fucking dipshit that he is, for pointing a gun at her.

Emily is so wrapped up in her rage that she doesn't see she's about to bump into someone. So of course she does just that, then turns swiftly to face them as she snaps,] Watch where you're going, idiot!

Edited (i can type and html i swear) 2016-01-25 23:42 (UTC)

pet peeved
or: get out of the way unless u wanna lose ur face!!!

[ Although some might argue otherwise, Sera really isn't ever in a foul mood unless something has warranted it.

Except for today. Today, she's angrier than perhaps she's ever been in her life and she has absolutely no idea why. She's been out and about, spending an awful lot of time chucking rocks at things and scribbling very rude words where rude words have no business being scribbled, but nothing has assuaged her fury.

Even now, some idiot is walking directly in front of her even though there's an entire pathway. Why won't they move? (Yes, she could also move, but that's not the point here.)

She huffs and rolls her eyes at the back of their head. ]

Ugh! Come on!

[ The person doesn't "come on," or at least not quickly enough for Sera to be satisfied, so she raises her voices: ]

Are you stupid? I said frigging move!

scenario one

[This is not where the mission was supposed to take the soldier. He was supposed to be in Washington, D.C. with the STRIKE team, in pursuit of his targets.

This is definitely not Washington, D.C. Nor do there appear to be any other members of his team with him. When he turns his masked face upwards, there is no sky. When he looks around, he hears the growls and snarls of wild animals.

Strange.

He keeps his assault rifle ready and stalks through the streets, keeping to shadows where he can and learning the layout of the city. He's looking for clues, for the STRIKE team... anyone familiar.

It's not the creatures he hears creeping around that frighten him. Very little scares him. But the thought that he is alone here with a mission left undone and no orders to guide him... well. That worries him a little.]

scenario two

[It's fairly obvious what's happened. The soldier runs his hands across the wood, feels its strength and where it's weakest, knocks on it to hear how the earth swallows the vibrations.

Well it's not a cryostasis chamber.

He doesn't know how deep he's been buried, but there's no sense sticking it out in the coffin when he has a perfectly serviceable metal arm to punch straight through the wood. And then use one of his knives to start loosening up the dirt.

...and then dig himself out.

He breaks through the earth with a deep breath and hauls himself out to the surface, crawling away from the hole and curling up for a moment to catch his breath. That was definitely a workout. He'd rather not be put in that situation again, thank you very much.

But he's unhurt, he's alive, and he's scanning the area for any sign of the fucker that buried him with murder in his eyes.]

scenario three

[The soldier is not generally encouraged to explore his emotions. In general, emotions are distractions from missions and the successful completion of them. But anger was something familiar to him, something that, while not encouraged outright, was at least appreciated by his handlers.

Because missions could and would go wrong, and the frustration and anger that such challenges inspired could often lead to creative problem solving.

Which occasionally led to a target being eviscerated instead of just shot, but, well, such were the risks of difficult assassinations.

Right now, however, there's not much the soldier can reasonably blame for his foul mood. There's the obvious ones: being separated from his STRIKE team and from his handlers, being without orders, and being completely uncertain of what he's meant to be doing here at all. There's also the more subtle ones: being hungry, being low on ammunition, not having had much sleep since he's arrived.

Those last ones are subtle because the soldier believes he can push through them. They are problems that can be solved either by addressing them or ignoring them, and right now he's choosing to ignore them, and instead taking a seat on the roof of a building to loom and glare at anyone who passes by.]

( fear - buried alive )

[ He wakes in darkness and immediately can tell he's in a cramped space. The air is different, more thin. The smell of dirt, heavy and unmistakable, is also present. His hands are bound by his wrists and he can feel something in his hands. Cold, metal. Cylindrical. His fingers feel around it carefully, slowly as he tries to regulate his breathing.

He can't panic. Not if this is what he thinks it is. He can't afford to lose any more air than he's already used up.

He finally gets the flashlight on, practically blinding himself in the process. He turns it away from his face and once he blinks away the dark spots blocking his vision, he sees exactly what this is. His heart is thudding loudly in his ears and his breathing shaky. He's shaking.

Buried alive.

He tries to pull his restraints apart, thinks of a knife in his hands. Nothing happens. So, not a dream. He tries again, same result. No knife, restraints tight and digging into his skin. Okay. This is real. He must've been drugged and grabbed after he left the airport. That's the only explanation. He knows he got off that plane with the others.

He closes his eyes and tries his best to calm himself. He has to. There's a very likely chance he's going to die. No one knows where he is (as far as he knows) and he's only got so much air left. So, best make this count.

He moves his feet to try and feel out the bottom end of the coffin (if this box could be called one). He scoots down some, making sure his feet are against the wood, before he begins the ram his heels into the wood. With as much force as he can. If he can break down at least one wall, there's a chance at weakening the others. The dirt is going to make this hell but he'll deal with that if he can even get the top board off. ]

R A G E

[ if his superior could see him now, he'd be so disappointed. drüskelle were a holy order, meant to embody the fjerdan's ideal of integrity and righteousness...

not, as the case may be, engaging in petty street fights with random strangers. and for the most ridiculous reasons, at that.

but matthias couldn't really help himself. he certainly hadn't meant to let things escalate as they had, but it was one thing after the other — a slammed finger against a door jamb, a spilled tea across his lap, misdirection from a stranger that led to an hour of travel wasted. the final straw to break the proverbial camel's back? the nostalgia of nina, a past love and a current hate, the enemy he grew to trust... only for her to betray him in the worst possible moment.

he has, to say the least, a lot of feelings when it comes to nina zenik. many of them violent. ]

Stop, [ he seethes one more time, the worst pushed out between grit teeth, his hand curled firmly around the other person's throat. he's rather large for a young man of eighteen — bulky and scarred from a year's worth of prison fights, yet none of that had chipped away at the precision and skill bred into him as fjerda's organizations of witchhunters.

the reason for all this? it could have been anything to remind him: long brown, wavy locks; bright green eyes; soft, pale skin; obscene curves; the smell of sweets; even just the way she'd smile like she knew how much it affected him; a teasing word or two; or the way she always somehow managed to get right under his skin in a way that he loved and hated.

whatever it was, he needed it to end, and now. ]

C Y O A

[ i'm also open to do any of the other options as well! feel free to PM me or comment here to work something out. c: ]

[ scenario 1: ]

[ seriously, fuck cats. axton has literally never liked cats, and these weird-ass giant magic ones aren't really doing much to win felines any favor in his eyes. if nothing else, he's grateful for the fact that they at least put up a decent fight: it makes mowing them down super gratifying.

so really, can he be blamed for getting a little swept up in the action? it's easy to forget that he's in the middle of a city instead of the rolling, barren fields of pandora -- so when the last coeurl turns tail and flees, axton pulls the pin and gleefully hurls a grenade in its wake.

whoops. maybe no one will notice a little structural damage to those buildings over there... they seemed pretty busted already anyway. regardless, he'll call an apology out afterwards, just in case they happened to be inhabited. ]

Uh. My bad!

[ scenario 2: ]

[ he never has this much trouble with his turret.

sure, he's not a brilliant gadgeteer like gaige, and no, he's not a mechanical genius like moxxi or either of her kids, but he knows his turret like the back of his hand. maybe that's why his threshold for frustration is so low right now: this is a thousand times more annoying than it should be, than it's ever been before. he just doesn't have the goddamn tools he needs to do this himself, and who has the patience to look for them?

not him. not today, at least.

he's set up with his turret right on the road, outside of one of the makeshift storefronts. his shoulders are set with irritation and he's ducked half-beneath it, struggling to get a compartment to shut entirely. tone clipped, he mutters: ]

Piece of junk-

[ before wincing and seeming to regret it immediately. ]

Sorry, darlin', you know I don't mean it. It's just this stupid city. Gets to a guy, you know.

[ if someone is close enough to hear him talking to his giant metal murder weapon, he... really doesn't care, okay. that thing is his baby. stop by - maybe he'll introduce the two of you. ]

Threaded | Flat

Effie Trinket | The Hunger Games

Firo Prochainezo | Baccano!

Linda Belcher / Bob's Burgers / yeah idk either

lilith | borderlands

Hel | Norse mythology-ish

kung jin | mortal kombat

ciri | the witcher

Gansey | The Raven Cycle