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

[residuals]

Don't worry. The ones that do mean it are only jealous.

[ Chekov is both young and smart, both traits other (older) colleagues would find enviable — he can hear echoes, quieter since he's arrived in this place, of people mocking his accent and spreading gossip. it's just how humans are.

Cole looks up at the "but", however, and there's a slight frown on his face as his eyes go from Chekov's face, to the tag, and back. ]

Does it have to be? [ he hadn't expected that. maybe there's more to giving flowers than he thought. a glance down at his bouquet before offering it to him. this bit, he can't help with. ] You can look for yours, if you want.

[residuals]

Yes, to some people. Vivienne uses hers like a weapon. Sometimes it's even stronger than her magic. [ and a look down at the flowers at that question. ] Do you regularly give away "magical cave flowers"?

[ in all their travels, he can't recall ever having seen any magical cave flowers. embrium and prophet's laurel, sure, but those were hardly magical, nor did they usually grow in caves. he frowns just a little. ]

Where do you find them?

[ still, though, the frown is gone almost immediately upon seeing her with the flower in her hair. Cole smiles. ] It does look nice, doesn't it?

[ he takes great care not to let the one Cecily gave him get mixed in with his own, looking down at himself and trying to figure out a good place to put it. it's the first sort of gift he can recall receiving, that he didn't ask for himself. the amulet was a necessity he'd thought he needed, so it couldn't count. this, though, the flower should be treated gently, put somewhere safe. where on his person was safe enough, though?

Cole looks up when she asks about the flower he'd given her, then nods just a little. ] Admiration. [ a short pause— ] Sort of. It's not right. I want them to say you're a very good friend, but they're not the right flower. It's the closest I have. I hope it's okay.

hope

[residuals]

Is something wrong with it?

[ that's not a reaction to getting a flower that he's seen before. at least, not here — when they'd visted Val Royeaux, it seemed like someone was having things (including flowers) thrown at them all the time. the cynicism is new. ]

If you don't like that one [ he looks through his own, trying to find a nice one to give her ] you can have this one instead?

[ and he finds a white one, holding it out to her. ]

[vektor]

I know. [ Chekov says, softly. There were some crewmates like that, back on the Enterprise, but the worst of the outright teasing was at Starfleet Academy. The other students were pettier there and more upfront with their mockery. Now, it happens more behind Chekov's back, and as long as he focuses on the work he loves, he tells himself, their words cannot touch him.

Chekov doesn't really want to focus on that right now, anyway -- those things were said and done, and obvious. What he's more curious about is how this boy knows that at all. ]

How are you so certain?

[ Chekov takes the flower anyway, smiling gently. It's a nice gesture. Whoever this kid his, he's obviously very sweet, and that puts Chekov more at ease than he ordinarily would be towards a stranger who knows so much of his personal life. ]

There is no flower addressed to me. I'm sorry. I think these are for your friends, and I don't want to take their flowers.

[ But surely, this kid knows that, unless -- ]

Can you read? [ Chekov asks, purely curious and caring. There's no judgement here. ]

[vektor]

[ Chekov turns towards the voice, meeting the gaze of a woman who seems more calm and collected than he is. She's got a flower too, and Chekov figures there's a good chance she got it when waking up in this place, too. Judging by her eyes and the frankly creepy way she watches him, she's probably not the affectionate flower type.

She also doesn't look especially human. His first thought is Klingon, but when he looks closer, he realizes that's wrong too. She must be of some other warlike people, and Chekov just hopes that she's at least a little friendlier than the Klingons. ]

Perhaps it's a strange...custom of this planet. [ Because this must be another planet. Where else could they be? ] And therefore, flowers mean something different here. You do not, ah, happen to know where we are?

[ Chekov really, really hopes she doesn't use those knives on him. He's a navigator, a prodigy, not a fighter. ]

[wittchen]

I know. [ As if she would put her own life before an entire city's, or... anyone else's, ever. Winner of the Most Likely to Run off into Danger to Prove a Point Award: Snow White. She draws a slow inhale, exhale, eyeing the monster as it re-forms. ] But I'm not just leaving you here.

[ Damsel though she's been on occasion, she's also stubborn and immovable and, most importantly, bright. They have a better chance of exploiting its weaknesses together. ]

Could we bury it? [ She speaks up, eyes not on Bigby, of course, but on the blob which is reforming itself as quickly as it can, though not, perhaps, as fast as it would like. ] If it doesn't have the chance to... re-form...

[ Gross as it is. Snow's lip curls in displeasure and lingering fear as she hovers between the creature and the doorway, watching its shape return gradually around and over the column. ]

[tishinka]

[She appears calm because she's trying really hard not to let her control slip. Not that she'll go right into killing people, not now, she's much better at that. But she's no use to anyone if she doesn't keep a level head.

And no, Irathients aren't particularly war-like. Circumstances and the fact that they're much more in tune with nature and their animal instincts, on the other hand, does give the impression that their war-like to others. Luckily for Chekov, she's friendly enough, more so than she was a few years ago.

Her lips quirk into a rueful smile as she shrugs. Although her expression quickly flickers to confusion.]

For this planet? [The thought that she was on a different planet entirely hadn't crossed her mind. To her it just feels like she's on Earth, maybe in old St. Louis, some part of it that's less populated with buildings. And no hellbugs.]

Maybe. I do know humans have old traditions and meanings to flowers. I'm...not familiar with those meanings, however.

[She shakes her head.] Feels like one of the buried cities to me.

[unfollowing]

Mou dame.

[Because fuck you, you're not the only person here who's educated enough to speak more than one language.

Emily is just going to assume you were bitching about this place and there weird shit that happens here.]

Get used to it. Those flowers are one of the nicer things to happen.

[hellwhip]

[She never said she was? But at least there's an actual person to talk to now, even if she isn't quite finished with the glaring.]

I don't know that I would call this "nicer." Is this meant to mollify me? [She doubts that, but it does, at least in her mind, put the ridiculousness in perspective.]

[starspangled]

[He has that little valley between his eyebrows, the one he gets when he's thoughtful or concerned. Right now he's both - although there is something about having something or someone to fight that will always be an odd comfort to him. It's the soldier in him, the one thing he has when he has nothing else, neither home nor happiness.


They've only just met, but Steve takes her warnings seriously, storing that little bit of info about emotion in the back of his mind. It's a problem if it's true - Steve keeps a lot of his under wraps, but humans in general aren't exactly lacking in that department. It's one thing that makes them human in the first place.]

Sorry I missed it. [Dry. He's not sure what a wendigo is, but he gets the feeling he wouldn't like it.] These gods...any of them on our side?

[residuals]

I can feel it.

[ Cole looks away, idly brushing his fingertips over the flowers. he doesn't expect Chekov to quite understand, knows there's a good chance he wouldn't, if he were to say that he can hear the wonder, and freedom, and the bright lights inside of him. it's so far different from what he's used to, nothing like he's seen on Thedas, and how he knows theirs must be two different places. ]

You've seen so many things. Her name means boldness, an undertaking. She lives up to it, and you help make it happen. You are much bigger than they are. It echoes inside you. That's how I know.

[ the question doesn't bother him. Cole just shrugs. ] I can't. He never learned, and I didn't need to. [ and there's a small pause. ] Why? Is it bad?

[mismanagement]

Believe me, you're not.

[Unwitting cannibalism aside - which Maketh is not thinking about, it might have been the worst thing that ever happened to her. Certainly nothing in her training had prepared her for the reality of watching her nails shift into claws, or feel that bone-deep ache with the need to eat. The way she'd looked at people and wanted to smash their heads open with a rock.

No, Steve Rogers would not have missed that.]

One of them, Hope, likes to claim he is.

[Maketh shrugs. Wherever Steve Rogers came from and what that world made him, he's been reasonable so far. Clear headed. Military. She appreciates the simplicity of that, knows it well enough to use it.]

Rage provided us an armory of outdated weapons.

[She continues, face suddenly cool. It's not personal, she's a professional, she will give her report.] I've not seen Fear in person yet.

[Though she very much intends to destroy him, somehow. Maketh inclines her head to Steve politely.] And you'll find death isn't permanent here. Most interesting, that.

a

[starspangled]

[He'd heard about Loki meeting another fate, so imagine his surprise.

Steve had also heard a sound, something different from the wet, gloopy sound of the blobs on the move. Whoever it was was fleet-footed, but that won't keep them safe forever. Steve wants to find them before those things do, get them off the street. But the clinking stops as suddenly as it started. Steve keeps trying to zero in on it.

He doesn't call out, doesn't want to give away his position in case there's any intelligence to those things. Steve jogs another block or so, shield on his arm as he turns to get a look in every direction. So far he's learned that there's always something to fight or someone to save here, and that isn't much different from his own world.

The question is...which of the two is Loki right now? Steve's eyes stop right on him, brows knitting together instantly.]

Loki?

[ukase]

[Well, the Soldier wasn't generally so animated about being murderous, which caused the hairs on the back of his neck to rise in warning. Something was up, and it wasn't just that the asset required a sandwich or protein bar. That was pure predator over there.]

So you failed your mission. [He t'sked softly, more to himself but he was certain the Soldier could hear.] As the current high-ranking operative in this joint, I'll have to take you in hand.

[He shifted his grip, tightening it on the flame thrower trigger.]

Kneel.

fear

[residuals]

You should run.

[ he didn't mean to sneak up. he didn't, honest. but he's there, and he may not have made as much noise as he necessarily should have to alert him to his presence. Cole's daggers are in his hands, eyes on the strange blob. he's still reeling just a little from his own encounter, and mourning the loss of his hat, but he won't let this one attack anyone. not if he can do anything.

(in all honesty, he's still not sure if he can, but he's damn well going to try.)

Cole ducks his head, looking at him from the corner of his eye. ]

I don't know what they are, but they're bad. It ate my hat. It will probably try to eat you too.

[wipedclean]

[He wanted to growl and snap. He didn't fail his mission, he was taken away before it could be completed! There was a significant difference.

The soldier bared his teeth in a silent snarl, but he obeyed, sinking to his knees. It was difficult enough to battle with the impulses in his head, but the reminder of HYDRA's consequences for disobedience and failure were enough to keep him in check.]

[ukase]

[He offered only a smirk for that snarl, but the point was that the Soldier would follow orders. That was good; that remained the biggest obstacle so far since he had arrived here. It was potentially going to take care of a few nuisances or at least test the full length of the Soldier's current chain.

He approached slowly, carefully, keeping himself outside of the Soldier's reach. He eyed the other, getting a better look at how inhuman the asset had become. A real winner, that one.]

There are people in this place. People beyond us that is. You're going to lead to finding them and helping me figure out their associations. Understood?

[starspangled]

Tell me why not. What are you afraid of?

[Because Bucky is afraid, and it breaks Steve's heart to see the man who always protected him from everything this afraid. What's worse, he isn't sure that it's something he can punch on Bucky's behalf.

But if it is, you can bet he'll give it his all.]

What do you think will happen if you're here with me?

[unfollowing]

[Yeah no see, the fact that she spoke another language screamed showoff to Emily, and in Emily's book, showoffs need to be put in their place.]

It's probably supposed to make you feel "hope". [She makes those air quotes.] This place is succh a shitshow, honestly.

[Crossing her arms, she rolls her eyes.] So do you feel hopeful? [What a slap on the face to Hope, if she doesn't.]

[hellwhip]

[Or, it's her first language and somewhat easier for her to speak?]

Hope. [That isn't a question, but at least it gets her to drop the glare, and give the flowers a bit more of a thoughtful look. A few flowers were supposed to make her hopeful in the middle of this mess?

And yet, somehow, somewhere deep, she had to admit that she did. Not that she would ever mention that out loud.]

How is this supposed to inspire hope?

[wipedclean]

Hydra will find out.

[Hydra always finds out. Hydra always catches him, always brings him back into the fold.

And they'll punish him for disobedience.]

[wipedclean]

[He growled out a reply, his face turned toward Rumlow, tracking his movement, the only thing he could see.]

Understood.

[His hands flexed and curled into tight fists. The urge to kill was insatiable, ever present. It would be so easy, so easy to lunge forward and take Rumlow, rip him limb from limb, sink his teeth into his flesh.]

[unfollowing]

[Probably true, but hey. That's Emily for you.

Though honestly, that reaction to the whole hope deal makes Emily smile. It's more of a smirk than anything, and it's admittedly reluctant, but you're getting it. You're not some wide-eyed optimist. Shit like that will get a person killed here, or even back home.]

No fucking clue. There's this guy here who says he's a god [witness that massive eyeroll], and he gets power from our hope. His name is Hope. So creative, right? [eyeroll #2.] It's kind of pathetic that he thinks some flowers are going to make us feel hopeful.

[hellwhip]

[She doesn't even flinch at the mention of a god--she's seen her share of those, and another certainly isn't going to make much difference. The world is big enough for all of them, after all--that's the whole point. And the gods did take their power from their followers' belief.]

It does leave something to be desired. I'm sure there are other, better ways to bring hope to the people.

Brock Rumlow | MCU

[ukase]

Fear

[Rumlow had grown up on bad eighties movies and effects; he'd had a stint of rebellious young adult boredom flipping through a monster manual for Dungeons and Dragons role-playing once or twice. Both had been gloriously lame, especially compared to some of the stuff he had been exposed to here and there that were real horrors on what men could do to one another, generally making horrible creatures to give people nightmares.

This wasn't quite like that. For one, there was generally more screaming and arm waving in the movies. For two, there were always some pimple-faced asshole shouting about a natural twenty in the other that deserved more than a kick to the groin over midnight pancakes.

Like any good soldier who had seen their share of the badness - take the Battle of New York for one - he knew when to stand back and observe. The thick gelatinous creature was fast, seemed to strip flesh and melt bone at an alarming rate. It also apparently had no cephalization as a weak point. In fact, it didn't appear to have a weak point at all. That left one option by his measure.

Fire. Where were the necessary body shields to keep it entertained and a gas station when one needed it?]

Match or flint would be nice. Dynamite? C-4? Anyone? [Useless tits the lot of them.]

Rage

[This was nothing like Creutzfeld-Jakob disease. This was so much better than any nerve protein-tainted agony on the nature documentaries, so much more focusing. It also didn't actually affect his equilibrium regardless of the loss of his sight, which had always been a matter of pride. Now it seemed like a stupid sense to focus so much on when his hearing could locate a scuff of a boot or even the sound of a small stone being stepped on. His nostrils flared to drink in the scents around him as he tipped his head slowly to one side and then the other to zero in on the sounds around him, normal or otherwise.

Kill. That gentle beat in his veins was almost as strong as the hunger which clawed its way through his guts. Together, the two concepts were all encompassing to his attentions. Hunting was a beautiful adventure, especially now when the reward was full of warmth and momentary struggling, maybe even a scream or two.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed and eased forward, throat working as his vocal cords lengthened and then shortened experimentally. He tipped his head back, lifting a hand to touch the cool wall on his left for association and went very still. Then he parted his thin lips and called out.]

Help... please help! [It wasn't his voice, not deep and smooth. It was to lure prey to him for a short-lived chase. Come out, come out wherever you are.]

Hope

[Rumlow had done this sort of thing before on more than one occasion, though it seemed a bit strange to him to suddenly wake up with a bunch of carnations in his hand already pre-tagged. For one, he preferred roses or lilies over carnations, but it seemed to him that these were intended to specific people.

Almost everyone liked flowers. Those that didn't were either allergic or so full of bah-humbug that it was better to shove them stem first where the sun failed to shine. Flowers could open people up, bring a smile to their face but best of all, they were a great way to poison someone. It was tricky to keep it where it should be for the target he found, but it was possible and even more, it was delightful to watch their faces mottling with reds and purples as it took effect.

A little exposure never hurt anyone. Not permanently anyway.

He fingered through the bunch of multicoloured carnations in his grip, perusing the goods before he pulled out a knife from his belt and gently put a slit into each stem. He stood intent on his business as he fed one stem into a hole and then the next and the next until he was binding the stems together with little name tags sticking out every which way but a crown of carnations built and ready to hand off.]