Test Drive Meme #6

[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 February 23rd, and apps are open March 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: BLOBBED
[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 several Blobs, from the similarly titled 1988 movie, The Blob for you meet.

These gelatinous creatures have no weak spots or brains that can be sliced or crushed to kill them. Instead, their only goal is to absorb and dissolve its prey so that it can grow larger. Think that its, er, blob-like form makes it easy to avoid? Think again- it moves faster than one might expect, as shown in its canon 'kill' video here (with a healthy cw warning for gore and 80's movie effects).]

R A G E
SCENARIO TWO: WENDIGONE
[Hey, that snack you found? It might taste a little too familiar. At least you don't have time to worry about accidental cannibalism too much though, because you've now become host to a vengeful wendigo spirit! The transformation will be sped up for the purposes of this test drive, though you can post at whichever point in the change you desire. Want to tear people to shreds? Go for it. Want to try to clutch onto the last few pieces of your humanity? Be our guest!

On the flipside, as someone who is unaffected, you may be trying to arm yourself and take these wendigos head-on... or, you may be trying to figure out a way you can save them, which would involve somehow trapping them on Hope's altar. Think you can handle that?

This is a mini version of our Who What Where Wendigo event this month!]


H O P E

SCENARIO THREE: CARNATION DAY
[You know those moments in high school that everyone used to dread? Where everyone would spend a week or so with the opportunity to buy a carnation or two for someone they like, only for carnation day to come along and dash any hopes and dreams you had of getting a flower from that special someone?

Well, here's your chance to relive that day- but, you know, hopefully make it end a little happier.

In this prompt, some characters will emerge through the Door- or wake up, or just suddenly appear- with carnations clutched in their hands. These flowers can be any color of your choosing, and all have tags on them. They can be addressed to you or to someone else, and in that FROM category? Well, from your secret admirer, of course- or any other character who may or may not have sent it! Here's to hoping they're a good one!]

Comments

[mismanagement]

[Oh. Well. Maketh raises an eyebrow, but doesn't take a step back like her instincts want to. This man is different, that's certain. Perhaps a force-user? She's seen the Inquisitor make jumps even more impressive than that.

Hopefully this one is less likely to go for her throat than the Inquisitor currently is, though.

Hadriel brings all kinds, it appears.

Maketh peers over the edge. The monster is still a little ways off, not yet close enough to make her worried.] Not quickly.

[She can guide him somewhere safer before the monster can kill them both. Therefore the threat is minimal.

Maketh tends to take these things in stride. People trying to kill her isn't new. Though this is the first time she's experienced....

Whatever the hell that is.

She clasps her hands smartly behind her back, standing at attention.] Not injured, are you?

[mismanagement]

[Maketh straightens her jacket with a huff, then glances back to the girl. Still standing under her own power, but looking--well.

About how one would expect a civilian to react.

Maketh's face softens slightly.]

That ought to slow it down. I'm going to take you to high ground. All right?

[Maketh doesn't comfort people. She commands soldiers and sometimes she barks orders at civilians during unfortunate moments and they do as they're told and most of the time they survive. But the part in between that - well. She hopes the girl won't cry. Maketh has no protocol for crying civilians.]

My name is Maketh. Okay? We're going to move now.

[She points at the stairs. Another floor up there's a makeshift walkway that they can take to the next Spire, which is better fortified.]

Fear

[circumitus]

Get away from it.

[Those harsh words come from a woman approaching from behind Pyrrha. On the surface, she doesn't appear to be armed, which is strange for anyone to be wandering even the city parts of Hadriel without a mean of defending oneself. Nothing save for the armor over her body, a hood partially obscuring her identity. Not that it matters -- she's pretty sure she has never met this girl before.

[She stops alongside Pyrrha, her hands clenched into fists. She cants her head at the indiscernible mass before them now, trying to study it.] Haven't seen one of these before. Must be new.

[A single glance casts out the corner of her eye to the girl. "And so are you," is what that look says.]

[starspangled]

[On second thought, maybe the flowers aren't so strange after all, at least not when compared to this. You're inspiring it one more time, Arya. Steve looks down at the girl in confusion, and he hates that he has to be suspicious - almost as much as he hates that someone so young is in a place like this to begin with.]

I'm sorry...but have we met before?

[There's a brief but sharp pang of sympathy. Given her words and her actions, she seems to care about him. And Steve knows firsthand the pain of caring about someone who doesn't remember you.]

[starspangled]

Yeah, you know that thing where people exchange words sometimes?

[Hey Bucky, do you remember this? The punk that Steve Rogers used to be, only now he's supersized. Steve softens around the edges though.]

I'm glad that you're okay and keeping yourself safe. A lot of strange stuff is going on around here, even stranger than us.

[The defrosted science experiment soldier and his equally old metal-armed brainwashed assassin buddy.]

[wipedclean]

[He blinks a little at the response, because it does strike something in his mind, though it doesn't quite resonate. He moves on to the next bit instead, huffing softly and scanning their surroundings.]

I've noticed.

hope

[ethicalproblems]

[Normally the intimidating guy with a freaking metal arm wouldn’t be Topher’s first choice for answers. But since he’s the only person around, and the flowers are doing wonders to remove any menacing aura he may have had, why not? Plus, this may not seem like the attic, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a frakked up dream of some sort. What’s the harm?]

Let me guess. You’re wondering whether or not that special girl loves you or loves you not?

[polearity]

Get away? But... ( she focuses on the creature, frowning as it seems intent on some grotesque mission of eating... absorbing? anything that happens to be in its path. she turns back to the woman, meeting that gaze -- ) We can't just continue to let it roam like this!

( she's studying this woman now, who appears relatively unsurprised by the creature -- and the events unfolding. that and the choice of words she used, has pyrrha guessing she's from here... or at least, been here longer than she has. which isn't saying much, since this appears to be her welcoming party... )

There has to be some way to stop it.

[wipedclean]

[The soldier looks up from the flowers and at the man. He looks him over, sees the way he's standing and his build and dismisses him as non-threatening. He plucks another petal off of the flower and lets it fall, his glare never leaving the man's face.

There's a moment of silence before he speaks.]

No.

[ethicalproblems]

[Oookay then. Someone’s social. Topher takes a step back at the glare, but doesn’t leave. Either this place isn’t real, so it shouldn’t matter. Or it is. And in that case, better the devil you’ve just met than nothing.]

So, special guy then? Or just enjoying a good flower massacre? [He brings his hands up in faux-defense.] Don’t worry, this is strictly a zero judgment zone.

[wipedclean]

[He frowns a little at "special guy," but otherwise doesn't comment. It's more apt to say that he's enjoying a flower massacre, which he exhibits by looking down at the remaining flower in his hand and crushing it in his metal hand.]

There's no point to them.

[ethicalproblems]

[Observing minute facial expressions isn’t part of his skill set, so the frown goes unnoticed amidst the general scowly-ness. Also, it's really hard not to ask about the arm when it's used like that.]

No disagreement here. [He points to his own handful of flowers for emphasis.] Did those ones have name tags too, or am I just the designated delivery guy? Because, I've gotta say, kind of a step down the employment ladder.

[wipedclean]

[He glances back up at the man and shrugs a little.]

They did.

[He nods to a crumpled piece of paper on the ground, which just goes to show how much he thinks of the whole thing. But he looks up, brow furrowed.]

"Delivery guy?"

[Please don't tell him those flowers are for him. He really doesn't want any more flowers.]

[ethicalproblems]

[Why not? Think of the beautiful plant destruction that could be wrought.]

Right, the tags. I assume we’re supposed to find these people and, well, deliver. Like a weirder version of elementary school Valentines. [Yeah, Topher. Because this guy totally looks like he had a normal education.] None of them are addressed to ‘dude with metal arm’, if that makes you feel better.

[For all he knows, they could be meant for this guy. It’s not like they’ve exchanged names yet.]

[wipedclean]

[He looks a little confused at that. His flowers were addressed to him.

Well, they were addressed to Bucky or James, a person who he apparently used to be, so he assumed they were meant for him, regardless of who he was now.]

That's not how mine were addressed.

[ethicalproblems]

Aww, really? So they were just for you? That’s both less exciting and makes way more sense. Mine are just random names. [None of them are his, at least. Which makes it even more accurate to the childhood rituals mentioned before.]

This place must like you more. [That, or it really wants him to make friends.] Yay?

[wipedclean]

[He snorts.]

Or it's making a bad joke.

[Because like hell would anyone send him flowers. Nor should they.]

[ethicalproblems]

Also an option. Seems like the bottom of the barrel, but who knows with the shadowy powers that be. This could be the pinnacle of humor. [He snaps his fingers suddenly.] Oh, oh, another guess! [Drumroll, please.] Secret admirer?

Rage

[ukase]

[There were some things a man had to do in order to survive; he understood that better than some. He'd been on the short end of the stick with hard decisions flipping about in his head. Thankfully, eating another human being had never been one of those decisions, but he supposed if he thought about it long enough, he could understand the logic. He'd like to think he'd make a different call.

Rumlow had found himself attracted by the odd high-pitched screeching noises, slowly tracking his way deeper in the cold. His hands were thankfully warm from the flame thrower he had found earlier in his travels; it was barely in working order, and he was left to assume the almost empty tank was full of some kind of napalm. There was nothing quite like napalm to embolden one's actions because he planned on burning any fucker that decided hostilities against him.

So he moved nice and easy, the went of the nozzle and trigger resting in his fingers as he put one foot in front of the other carefully. The screeching was far ahead of him, yet his head turned with what sounded like stone hitting stone. He peeked around a corner and found the source, his eyes narrowing.

This must have been where all those horror stories of flesh-eating disease or the zombie apocalypse came from. He eased around the corner and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in a clear t'sking sound. It was then he recognized the former weapon of HYDRA. Huh... cutting loose sure hadn't done great things for the ex-Sergeants appearance.]

Always told those techs that feeding you slop wouldn't help you in the real world and look how right I was. Eat a damn sandwich, Soldier.

[wipedclean]

[He heard the steps approaching and twisted to look, but it took him too long to recognize the man approaching him. It wasn't until Rumlow spoke that he knew for sure. Frustrated, he rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his right hand.

There were conflicting thoughts in his head. Much of him was glad a handler was here to clear up his purpose here, or at least give him direction, but another, strange part was screaming at him to kill him.

His fingers twitched. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thoughts, but it wasn't so easy.]

Orders, sir?

[wipedclean]

[He growls a little and looks away. He doesn't know which is worse, "secret admirers" or knowing exactly who supposedly sent him flowers.]

It doesn't matter.

[ethicalproblems]

[The growling should be frightening, but...dude, it’s over flowers and potential secret admirers. It’s a little funny.]

Not anymore, at least. [He gestures at the pile formally known as plant life.] I’m Topher, by the way. Which also doesn’t matter, but since we’re both stuck here, might as well be...neighborly?

[wipedclean]

[It's ridiculous and the soldier doesn't want to have anything to do with it. But he's being petulant, like a child, and he sits back when the man introduces himself.]

Hello.

[There, he's being neighborly.]

[ethicalproblems]

[Very neighbor. Much bonding. Sure, this is usually where the other person would give their name in turn, but honestly Topher doesn’t care much about social traditions on the best of days. So, it all works out.]

Great. You know my name, I know about your propensity for violence against nature. That’s...better than nothing. [Oh, hell with it. He’s restrained himself long enough.] Can I ask you something -- about the arm?

[He’s asking permission before jumping into the question. That's like a whole new layer of empathy.]

[wipedclean]

[The soldier shrugs.]

You can ask.

[Doesn't necessarily mean he'll answer, but whatever.]