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

[ukase]

[It was hard not to notice the slim gangly young man who turned the corner and approached him. His fingers might have continued to work the stems into position, but his eyes tracked those movements as if memorizing them. It shouldn't affect him, but the gait was different and never come through on colour-printed paper. Comics certainly didn't protray the reality that the 'fight me' sign was almost always hung on Rogers' slim frame, ready for action at any time. It was in the bearing.

He glanced at his hands as they worked, examining them. They were large, tanned both from natural pigment and seeing too much sun. His fingers were well-worn with callouses specific to his occupation, little scars telling a tale of his life and the little incidences that had been won through blood. A man's hands, a man who had seen much and never ever backed down from a fight.]

If it was around Christmas in these parts, I wouldn't know or care. I would also be using poinsettia flowers for Christmas.

[Uncaring, his dark eyes flicked to the blond's hands, small with nimble finger, pale and slim. They were a boy's hands, weak and mocking. His eyes traced the knuckles anyway, looking for signs of the last fight, the last punch or scrape on the pavement that showed that no matter how dainty those hands were, they fought a man's fight with no intention of just backing down.

The corner of his lip twitched as he looked the blond over and found nothing lacking. If anything, the Steve Rogers that stood before him was larger than life, larger than the few pages of 'backstory' that made the legend. A small man who refused to let the world and all the shit in it refused to bend that spine any more than it already was. A similar boy perhaps could find solace in that story, use it to build a shell against the harshness of the world in which he lived. It was good that boys grew to men.]

You want something, kiddo, or are you just admiring my fine floral work for a lack of something to do?

[prespangled]

[They already have a differing opinion about something. See, Steve knows plenty of guys with big hands, scarred and calloused. All it really means is that they have rough hands. It didn't make them a man, that required something a little more.

Steve's hands are pale, he'd give him that. The fingers are slender and delicate. But they've curled into fists to raise against guys with bigger hands and bigger bodies. Those hands have waved other men away while he was laying on top of a grenade, waiting for it to go off. Those fingers have been stained with newsprint after standing for hours on flat feet with an aching back, all so he can bring home a couple of bucks in the hope that maybe his ma wouldn't have to work so hard this month.

But in the end, hands are just hands. Most people have them.]

I haven't seen any poinsettia. Figured you might just be making do.

[Making do is another thing that Steve's good at. He bristles at the 'kiddo', chin tipping up.]

It's Steve. And I thought you might know who I could talk to about helping out around here.

[ukase]

[They were doing full on introductions, were they? He supposed that made sense given the state that Rogers was in, and it dawned on him that he could act and do as he pleased without the possibility of their... ah associations at SHIELD clogging up the pipes. Rogers was no dope and wouldn't be fooled by a completely different act, but like last time, he could keep certain details to himself.

He was a private man by nature, never indulging in talks about his personal life. Not much anyway. Maybe a few teasing details. It was just too bad that a lot of Rogers' details were laid out in history books, film reels and interviews. Just never this version of events.]

I can make do with far less.

[His lip tugged higher at the bristling, spotting it right away. God damn it would be a major turn-on to slam this little fire cracker into the pavement.]

Steve then. I have no idea; I just arrived myself through some weird door. I'm waiting for the memo on what the hell is going on. You're free to wait with me. Strength in numbers and all that.

[prespangled]

[There must be some appeal to introducing Steve to the pavement, it's happened enough. But he never stayed for breakfast. His eyes are one of the few things about him that stay the same, and they flicker over Rumlow, taking in what he sees without making any real judgement about it. They're back up to Rumlow's again when he finishes speaking.]

By the looks of it, that's probably a good thing here.

[What he's seen of the city so far doesn't suggest a land of prosperity. Steve watches him a few moments more, the tension in him easing off a little at a time. The guy seems smug, a little rough around the edges, but nothing he can't deal with.]

Yeah, maybe that's a good idea. [The stubbornly independent part of him wants to try going it on his own, but watching this guy's back seems like the right thing to do.] I didn't catch your name.

[ukase]

You run into any of the flesh eating oozes?

[There weren't many people about that would indicate that this was a thriving place, and the few that he had met didn't seem to actually be a resident here. It all pointed to some bizarre social experimentation in a giant shoebox to him. The things people built for science.

He slipped his knife back into the sheath on his belt before sorting through the carnation tags until he found the one with the name that he was looking for. It was a white carnation with red flecks on the edges of the petals.]

Rumlow. [He glanced up and then flicked the crown of carnations onto Steve's head like it belonged there.] Your name on one of those tags, so that seems to be yours. Come on, I'm going to the top of one of those four-story buildings to survey the scene.

[prespangled]

Yeah. [Steve ran into them and they almost ran over him. Fortunately when something doesn't have a brain, they're not too hard to outsmart.] It's been awhile since I've seen any though.

[His reflexes, like everything about his body, aren't the greatest. The flower crown lands on top of his head before Steve can even try to catch it. So he reaches up to drag it off instead, staring at the tag with his name on it, the flower that's different from the rest.

There's not too much time to ponder it, though. Rumlow's on the move, and it's going to take everything in him to try and keep up. If the idea of it's daunting, Steve doesn't show it.]

Yeah, we can see if anyone needs help from up there. We're probably not the only ones who just got here.

[ukase]

I suspect they are keeping themselves to one area of the city, if this place can be called that. No doubt their territory will shift with that of their food source.

[Their food source being people, and he expected that something of that magnitude would find a way to get into all the difficult and unexpected places. His imagination was already running wild with how much trouble they could be in if the ooze was in all the pipes. Toilets and drains were out in his books already.

He made no break in his stride for Rogers; the kid had legs and could clearly use them. He had enough respect for the guy to not change his own movements to accommodate, expecting and certain that the blond would keep up.]

Did you come with any supplies or just the clothes on your back?

[He paused at a door to a four-story building and checked the handle, but it was locked. He pulled out two bobbi pins to work the locking mechanism open. Oh his days on the streets were forever useful.]

[prespangled]

Shouldn't we be trying to figure out where that is?

[Not that Steve knows how to stop or kill them either. He only knew to run from them, the first time that he'd ran from anything in a very long time. But at least if they know where they are, they can warn other people away from them.]

Just...the clothes.

[Steve's panting softy by the time they reached the doorway. He leans forward, hands against his knees as he tries to catch his breath. He can only blink when Rumlow starts picking the lock. He knows it's wrong, illegal, but so was lying all those times he was trying to get into the army. Sometimes you just have to do the best that you can. At least it doesn't look like anyone's apartment.]

[ukase]

No, you should have a planned escape route first. How are we supposed to help people if we don't know a safe route to take them? Secure a spot first, then go helping. You're useless to everyone dead.

[He worked the locking mechanism gently, twisting his pins until he heard and felt a click of the mechanism sliding into the open position. He eased out the pins and tried the door, finding that it opened after he jimmied the knob and threw a knee into it.

He opened it cautiously, using the door as a shield for his body before it seemed all clear and he stepped inside, gesturing the blond in after him. He only cast a curosy look to make certain Steve wasn't about to collapse before he was moving to ascend the stairs.]

We'll get you a few supplies as we move. Knife is your best friend in survival situations.

[He stopped on each landing to listen for sound other than Rogers' breathing and to give the kid just a touch of a break to prevent an asthma attack. Four floors up and he was unlocking the door that allowed them on the roof.]

Scope out that side of the building for signs of people or flesh eating monsters.