dankmemes | Test Drive Meme #7

Entry tags:

!test drive

Test Drive Meme #7

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 March 25th, and apps are open April 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: HOW UNUSUAL
[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 a few Rodents Of Unusual Size, from the film/book Princess Bride.

These large creatures are about the size of a large dog and can be stoked into a frenzy once they smell blood. They typically hide in the shadows and wait for an opportune moment to leap out of the dark and strike at you. Though they can sometimes look like overlarge puppets, take no doubt that these monsters are very much alive, and they love the taste of flesh.]

H O P E
SCENARIO TWO: MIRROR, MIRROR
[While exploring, you might be surprised to come across a pristine mirror in this underground city. It could be lying in your path, it could have been dropped into your bag by a mysterious someone, or it could find you some other way, but it will be there. This is no ordinary mirror, however- upon looking inside of it, the glass will show you a vision of a future that you hope for more than anything.

Regardless of what you want, the mirror shows visions that you believe are possible so that you can adequately hope for it- whether or not they actually are isn't really anyone's concern. Feel free to hide in a corner and stare for hours, throw it away, or try to peek at as many other mirrors as you want- we won't stop you!

This is a mini version of our Hopeful Future event this month!]

R A G E

SCENARIO THREE: PAY 2 WIN
[How cool are carnival booths? Super cool, right? And luckily, the grand prize in this one is something you've always wanted. It could be a briefcase of enough money to make all your troubles go away, that sacred amulet you've been questing after, or something a little less concrete- the approval of someone you want to like you, a curse upon someone you don't like, general freedom... the choices are endless.

And all you have to do to win it is play a game or two.

Something strange seems to be happening, though. Each time you finish a round of the game, the prize requirements just get a little higher, just stretch a little more out of reach. Play again, we're sure you'll get it this time! No? Well, you've definitely got it next time.

Get fed up and smash the booth for the prize? Well buddy, now you're disqualified, and tampering with the booth sets that thing you want most up in flames. Sorry, bud. Better luck next time! And look, there's another booth right behind you...]

Threaded | Flat

SCENARIO ONE

[ Malia has been fending off giant rodents all day. At first, she only fought them for self-defense, but now that she's pissed off, it's because they're annoying. She stalks the streets, on high alert for even the slightest sound or whiff of another creature. Just come out and die already, she wants to shout, but she's too good of hunter (and far too laser-focused) to compromise the situation like that.

She hears something. Footsteps, behind her. It's hard to tell what kind of creature they belong to, since the rodents are so much bigger than she's used to. It could be a dog, a rodent, a person; no matter what it is, she's too geared up to chance not attacking them.

Picture this. Malia: teenage girl with superhuman strength. You: innocent bystander, minding your own business, trying not to get mauled by anything. As you approach her, she whirls around and punches you right in the face. (Or attempts to, anyway—she has superhuman speed going for her, too, but maybe your catlike reflexes kick in. If she does manage to hit, it's going to hurt.) ]

SCENARIO THREE

[ That carnival booth sure does go up in flames, but not until after she's kicked the shit out of it in frustration. She turns away from the flames—they're someone else's problem now, sucks to suck—and approaches another booth. Oh, what's that? You're also at that one, desperate for the prize inside? Well, it has something Malia wants, too. She not-so-gently shoves anyone in her way aside. Even if they were there first. Even if they're in the middle of playing. ]

Go away.

[ She's not even really mean about it. Just... super matter-of-fact. Go away now, thanks. ]

[Fear]
She isn't sure exactly where she is, anymore. It had looked bright enough on the other side of the door, but once she'd stepped through the light had changed. Now there was still light, but there were also a million shadows cast at strange angles, and she swore there was something in there staring back at her...

Without warning, something slams into her from the left, squealing, and only reflex gets an arm between her throat and a pair of large, snapping teeth as she crashes to the ground without a word, wrestling with the creature.

[Hope]
When Alice finds the mirror, she's equal parts curious and cautious. It clearly doesn't belong here. Some magical relic, maybe. There's definitely a compulsion on it, and even though she knows it's probably a horrible idea, she picks it up. The next hour is spent sitting in a dark corner of an empty, half-ruined hut, staring silently at whatever the glass shows. Her face is expressionless, or maybe full of too many emotions to categorize. It doesn't change as she suddenly smashes the mirror to the ground, shattering it, and methodically grinding the shards into dust with bleeding hands until there's nothing big enough to reflect left.

Afterwards, she makes a point of approaching anyone with a mirror, intense and demanding. "You. Let me see that." It isn't a voice that says please so much as it does or else.

[Rage]
She's been standing here for two hours now playing this stupid game. It shouldn't have taken this long. She should have had her prize. She's been sure she's won at least a dozen times now, only every time she looks at the board, it seems the points have changed. Only sheer stubbornness has kept her going this long. It's probably rigged. All carnival games are, she knows that. Only it's just she can't turn away, blue eyes fixed on a candle burning with a flame the same exact shade...

It isn't until the points change again, almost visibly this time, that she stops. The game resets, but this time, she finally opens her mouth to speak. Spitting something that sounds a little like Russian with weirder vowels, she gestures sharply, and the entire booth bursts into flames.

If anyone catches her in the act, all she does is glare their direction. Just try and say something about it.

SCENARIO ONE (HOW UNUSUAL)
[It's never good to be covered in blood, a mingling of his own and the blood of others, but right now it's even more unfortunate. The Door has plucked Mitsuhide straight from battle and that has made him an instant target for these... things. Giant rats? Whatever the case, the moment he'd found himself in this place the samurai had been attacked by one of the snarling things and saved only by his swift reflexes. Now there is more blood on his sword, on his armour, and a dead creature at his feet.]

[It would be easy to go into shock, but living in a wartorn country has ensured his survival instincts are very honed indeed, and it is these that take charge right now. There could be more of these things out there, he could still be in danger... otherscould be in danger. Perhaps some of his men have been dragged along with him, or those of Lord Motochika. Or Lord Motochika himself.]

[Putting his sword away was going to be out of the question for a while, it seemed. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Mitsuhide steels himself and starts to walk, every sense on high alert. He is tired on so many levels but that doesn't mean it's safe to approach from him any side that isn't his front; if you attempt to do so he will whirl around straight into a defensive position and glare with an expression of pure steel, ready to strike at the slightest sign of danger. Approach from the front, and he will greet with a wary nod and a simple:]

Who are you?

[Until he's sure it's relatively safe there isn't going to be time for unnecessary conversation, and considering the blood all over him, well... that 'shadow' close by is quickly going to get closer...]

SCENARIO ONE: MIRROR, MIRROR
[This magic doesn't reassure Mitsuhide; the wonderous vision it shows does not lift him in any way.]

[Finding the mirror in a moment of quiet had been strange, but no less strange than his general circumstances right now. Glancing in it, however, and finding something other than his pale and tired face? Yeah, it was probably now topping the list of odd things. What Mitsuhide sees is a peaceful Japan; content people working their fields, walking through towns, taking care of duties that do not require tough choices or the forceful approach of a sword-bearing hand. Himself in casual clothes, long hair loose, looking peaceful if not completely unhaunted, and Lord Motochika beside him hale and whole. It was what they had been fighting for... Mitsuhide's dream come true. But...]

[He's staring into the surface with an obviously distressed expression, grip on the mirror way too tight. This had always been a possibility, hadn't it? A distant one, perhaps, but possible nonetheless. So why does his heart feel so heavy? Mitsuhide knows the answer, really.]

This is...

[He bites his lip, drops the mirror. Sinks to the floor and drags a hand down his face. The sentence hangs in the air, unfinished. Anyone who sees or overhears this scene might be able to get the end of it out of him, but it's no certainty. Mitsuhide looks completely out of it, almost ready to break.]

Edited 2016-03-21 22:45 (UTC)

A: GIANT RATS

[ Since he woke, Damen has come aware of several things. The first is that he still wears his armour; his breastplate, sandals, and armoured skirt, and his scarlet cape held in place with the lion pin. The golden cuff remains on his left wrist. Unlike the last time he woke somewhere strange, he hasn't been stripped. The second is that he still holds his sword, a heavy and reassuring weight in his hand.

The third is that he is inside a large arena, and he has no memory of how he came to be here. That part has happened before, and he takes it no more kindly than he did then.

The fourth is that there are three overlarge, angry rats baring their teeth at him. Three against one. No doubt they think these odds are in their favour. They have never seen Damianos of Akielos before. Every ounce of his rage at finding himself here is taken out on those animals. His roar is a battlecry that he only partially hears, and it loses itself in the sound of his sword crashing against giant rodent teeth. Damen moves like a demon, his body towering at well over six feet of pure muscle. He's aware of teeth coming at his arm, claws at his thighs. He hacks his way through them, leaving a trail of blood, gore, and pieces of rat in his wake.

All things considered, he's not happy to be here. Now Damen is the hunter, chasing down every rat monster he can find. He'll help you if you need it; otherwise, you may want to get out of his way. ]

B: HOPE

[ It takes him a long time to calm down. Even when the initial haze of battle leaves him, there's still murder in Damen's dark eyes. By now he's looking for someone to explain. Someone in charge. He's been taken from his men, and he wants to know why.

He almost walks on the mirror. It's a good thing he doesn't, since it would have splintered at once under his weight, but it glints as sure as gold on the cave floor, and that catches his eye. He scoops it up, inspecting it as though he intends to throw it away as soon as he looks.

It stays in his hand. Inside the mirror is the interior of a palace he knows too well; huge columns, a dais that holds two thrones instead of one, and Damen is there. He sits on a throne in the hall of his fathers, and beside him is a beautiful creature, all dressed in blue, with golden hair and a face that's as cold as it is lovely. Laurent, enthroned with him in Ios. Damen feels himself flush, and he closes the mirror in his fist. When the shock of the moment passes, he finds himself looking again. His default reaction is anger, of course. ]

How dare they. How could they know?

[ He doesn't even realise he's spoken aloud. Damen cleaves to his frustration as something familiar and useful, because the pleasure that image gives him certainly isn't. Some part of him already feels undone, just because of a mirror he found on the floor. Now he's not even particular about finding a leader. He finds whoever is closest, anyone, any innocent passerby, and he holds the mirror up, shaking it in their eyeline. ]

Who did this? Tell me where to find them, I won't leave this unchallenged!

C: RAGE

[ Its the laurel wreath. If it hadn't been sitting there, taunting him with its presence, Damen would have walked right past these games. At least, that is what he tells himself. It's the crown that should sit atop his head, as it had crowned his father. Just as there is one just like it right now, falsely crowning Kastor in his stead. He will not leave it there to be won by a child at a festival.

That's what he'd thought half an hour ago. Since then, he's already seen one wreath go up in flames when his fist smashed a new hole into the centre of one booth. Now he stares at the second offering, seething at the thought of it. They are playing games with him. He knows it, and does not want to let them, but Damen has never been good at holding his temper. He stares at the booth instead, at the board that wants him to fire darts and score points. He has yet to miss a single shot, and it still refuses him. He fights against his own frustration, but in the end, he picks up the darts again. ]

You won't beat me so easily.

[ He's determined to keep his anger in check. We'll see how long that lasts. ]

[ O N E ]

[Suien, for his part, is incredibly annoyed by the whole situation and speeding toward real, bloody rage with every animal he slaughters. At first there was some novelty in slicing them into bits - the thrill of something different, the simple physical joy of combat - but then it went sour and now it's boring. Killing brainless animals loses its charm quickly, and he has places to be. A plan to implement. He cannot be here.

Except, of course, that he is, and he can’t seem to find the way back.

Wonderful.

He kicks the latest animal in the head. There’s blood all the way up his arms, going tacky on his coat. And if he’s twitching a little bit, well.

Maybe don’t sneak up on the guy. Unless you feel like getting stabbed. Then, by all means.]

[ T H R E E ]

[Stupid machine! Suien gives the thing a final kick, snarling at the smoking wreck of it. Wonderful, he’s killed a machine. The damn thing was taunting him, though how the Hero’s Water got here in the first place, he has no idea. Probably Shibuki’s fault somehow. It’s easy to blame things on the brat because it is, more often than not, somehow Shibuki’s fault after all.

Suien glares down at his coat. He’s torn it, and his hands are bleeding. Wonderful.]

( fear.)

[ This is bullshit. In about a thousand ways to Sunday, but that's not exactly a surprising new facet of Dean's existence. No, it's really just another day in the life, but that doesn't mean he has to like it. He was annoyed the second he set foot in that arena, the second he showed up here out of nowhere and now? Now he's just getting monumentally pissed - kicking the damn rats in the head only seemed to accomplish so much, but he has no qualms about resorting to increasingly violent measures. Blade stuffed inside his jacket? Check. Blade rammed through rats skull? Double Check.

It probably takes him longer than it should to figure out he can up and leave but when he does, he doesn't have it much better walking the streets. Not like he's making any friends either, not after duking it out with the rats hopped up on steroids.

Meandering is the name of the game, considering he has no damn clue where he's going, but apparently the rats do. To the extent that they keep finding exceptionally good hiding spaces compared to their size - even more problematically, they just keep existing. There's more of them, coming out of the woodworks and Dean would really just like to not be here right now. Nor does he want to go waving around his blade in new, dank public places but what else is he supposed to do? Apart from shouting, maybe. There is that option. ]

I swear, if one more of you little shitheads pops outta nowhere, there is going to be so much hell to pay.

( rage.)

[ Carnival booths are really only sort of super cool. Which is to say, not super cool at all. Especially when the prize they're offering is something he ain't gonna get. Being shouted at from a distance, offered the chance to show off his marksman skills, is all just a little ridiculous enough to have Dean standing there, eyeing the booth like a man bereft. Denied of... amusement, really. He doesn't think this is funny, not even a little bit, and he's keeping his distance to a finely tuned degree.

If the prize entailed going back home maybe he'd be throwing himself into it, but as it stands, Dean just manages to look more and more unimpressed. He has nothing to prove, nothing to win, and even less to offer. He'd almost prefer the rats to this level of absurdity. ]

You could not possibly pay me enough.

[ Okay, maybe that's somewhat of a lie. He could be tempted with the right sum of cash, but even then- the ticket he'd earn is not one back home. That's not what's on the table and so he's not playing, preparing himself to turn and walk away, only to glimpse over his shoulder and... see another one. Fantastic. Wonderful. Excuse him if he lets go of an unbearable groan of protest. What has life become. ]

{ TWO }

[ the clatter draws his attention to the ground, staring down into the mirror that seems to have inexplicably fallen there. not only should it probably have broken, but it also should show his reflection, last he checked into what mirrors did. lord knew he had enough of them in his house. but instead of his own smug mug he instead sees... what ultron could have been. what ultron should have been. protection and safety for the world. it's unnerving, like something out of george orwell's 1984. this isn't what he wanted -- he's not big brother. he's just a man in a tin can.

hearing footsteps, tony starts, peeling his eyes away from the images dancing along the looking glass to take in what's coming up the path. he feels strangely abashed, though he's certain it's only a trick. another cruel deceit in a long line of so many. ] Hark, who goes there? [ an oldy but goody. ]

{ THREE }

[ tony stark, in another life, in a different time, was a gambling man. that man died in afghanistan, but he is lured in by the flashing lights like a moth drawn to a flame anyway. he hangs back and watches others lose. the house always wins. it makes his heart beat faster, breath catching oddly in his throat. there's nothing he wants but to get out of here, and surely this place wouldn't offer him that.

eventually, his curiosity gets the better of him and he steps up to the booth, surveying its every surface with a keen eye. they think they know him -- everyone does so it should stop taking him by surprise, he supposes. he throws a perfect round of darts without a goal in mind. next thing you know he's three games in and has no idea which way is up. his stomach is rumbling and his lips are chapped, but he's playing desperately, like a man possessed. someone save him from himself? or at least bring him a snack :( ]

[ Taken from post-game. ]

Scenario One
[ The streets were a flood of disgusting disease-infested creatures. Back 'home', these suckers got pretty damn fat, but... never would Fiona have imagined them giving a skag a run for their money. She's not stealthy in her movements, her feet pounding the ground in a poor attempt to outrun the five she has chasing her. Her heavy steps were drowned out with the scurrying and squeaks behind her. She's past a few storefront shops, hooking a left down an opening of brick walls. ]

I'm seriously getting chased by rats.... s-seriously?! Is there anything else more impressive out there that can kill me instead?!

[ She's absolutely livid, gasping for breath as her sprint slows, considerably.

Man, how did she go from some weird outer space adventure to this? The mighty had fallen. In some damp, dreary cave - besides the weird housing, it reminded her of Hollow Point. It had the same look-over-your-shoulder feel. The shadows painted a worse picture than when she arrived with the beast that dragged her here. It was foreign, but Fiona knew how to keep her cool. Well, cool enough until her signature hat flew off as she begins to climb over a wall blocking her way. ]

Aw shit!

[ She's half straddled over the wall, now faced with a tough choice.

Hat or no hat.

Please someone help her before she does something stupid and waste the little ammo she has in her pistol? ]

Scenario Three
[ This... this is more her liking. The slot machines in the bars at Hollow Point were definitely a highlight of her nights out. Sure... she may have conned them a few times with false money, but she won fair and square by even showing her face around town. The carnival booths gain her attention - the various lights and sounds stimulating her senses like she's some child. It may have been all subconscious though, because Fiona was b-lining to a particular game with a panicked look on her face. One booth in particular had caught her attention - one piece of the Gortys core. There's no way it could really be it... right? Despite logic telling her not to trust anything here - Fiona gives in. God damn it, does she give in.

The first ten games went by like the snap of a finger. The prize wasn't won and she's left with a sore arm from playing whack a mole... god damn it. She's tapped out and a bit desperate, looking around for anyone. With a roam of her hands down her jacket, she tries to calm herself, keeping it cool despite her gritting teeth showing another story. She's friggin' pissed! Not only does Fiona have zero time for this, but this could be the first chance she has of seeing a familiar face.

Well, cute ass robot face. ]

Hey, s'cuse me. Can I talk to you for a minute?

[ Fiona was ready to unleash her superpower: talking to people until they're 100% confused. ]

HOPE

[This place is strange enough—dark, dank, dead—without even considering the feeling that there’s someone, somewhere, looking, lurking. The feeling of being a toy, being a plaything, played for pleasure is a hard one to shake and not one that exists to be enjoyed.

And still, as strange as that is—as strange as the walls of the cave and the buildings that shouldn’t be there, the mirror is what draws his attention. It’s as out of place as he is, so the boy crouches next to it, careful not to touch for the moment. He doesn’t bother to brush the stringy blonde hair out of his eyes for a better look, and his rather large hat obscures most of his face.]

It’s..too strange. Strange things for strange places. Dark and light and loud and quiet. What do the whispers say?

[He doesn’t seem to notice that he’s speaking out loud—or maybe he does, and he just doesn’t care who hears. It doesn’t make much sense, regardless, and he continues in that soft—if monotone—voice.]

It’s like a picture of a picture but backwards. Signs and symbols…good things, but…not real. Do we make them real? They could be.

[He pauses for a moment and almost looks like he might be listening to something, but ultimately shakes his head.]

Maybe. It might be too much.

Edited 2016-03-22 01:27 (UTC)

FEAR

[ Of course, nothing was so simple in Laurent's life. Several steps closer towards his uncle, and now a world away.

It takes him longer than he'll care to admit to anyone to realize this is no ploy of his uncle's. In fairness, he wouldn't put anything past his uncle anymore. Were it within his abilities, he surely would have arranged the hell Laurent now found himself in. Unfortunately, it wasn't quite as simple as that.

Starting with the rats. Rats my be understating them, though. They're as large as dogs and just as rabid as one might be. If Laurent is still thrown from his abrupt arrival, he doesn't let it show as he draws his sword. One of the creatures makes a noise at him and he easily points his blade at the three that threaten to circle him. Carefully, he keeps the nearest wall of a shop building to his back. He won't allow himself to be taken so easily. ]

Well? [ He challenges the rats. ] Let's begin.

[ Without a second's hesitation, he lunges forth and spears the first one through his mouth with the end of the blade. Another lunges at him, and he carefully dances out of reach, swinging his blade so as to use the body of the speared ROUS to bludgeon the other. As the other ROUS goes down, the one on his sword slides off. The third sees it's chance to finally try to take his back. ]

HOPE

[ Laurent has no hope. He has goals. He has ambitions. They will be his reality, because to imagine anything else would be to allow room for failure. He will not allow that sort of room. Hope is wasted on him.

Or so he'd have the world believe.

The mirror knows otherwise. When he finds it, he thinks to move it from his seat and simply set it aside. Yet as he turns it over, something in the mirror catches his eye. Instead of resisting the temptation, he holds it up to examine it closer.

The vision before him could have been pulled straight from the dreams Laurent doesn't dare to let himself have. His eyes narrow as he sees the image of his kingdom, with him sitting at the throne. He wears the crown his father had worn before him. The crown meant for his brother. Except he doesn't just bear it, he somehow deserves it. It shows in the respect the people around him give. People dressed in the usual, laced style of Vere. And among the crowd are the more sparsely dressed Akielons. There's no hatred among the people. Only respect and peace that comes from two countries united.

It's clearer why, too. Next to Laurent stands a broader, darker man, with a commanding presence and a crown of his own. Damianos.

Laurent grips the mirror tightly and turns to the nearest person, his voice cold as ice. ]

Who created this? [ He asks in a tone that expects to be answered. ]

FEAR

[ wash deserves a lot of the shit he's been dealt.

he deserved prison — not for what he did to the director and his fucking program, but for what he did to the alpha. the unnecessary destruction of a broken entity hadn't been wash's best idea, and he also deserved the crushing guilt that came after, the flood of what ifs and i'm sorrys that everyone was too dead to hear. he deserved the way everything shook apart with the meta. he'd known from the beginning, when hargrove assigned them together, that maine wasn't maine, and that he couldn't pretend for long.

he still pretended, and the meta still turned on him, and he deserved that, too. old habits die hard. what a fucking sucker.

but he hadn't deserved the forgiveness of the sim soldiers, or this bullshit. wash is so unbelievably over unseen forces constantly toying with his life, and he doesn't know if he believes that these gods are actually gods, but he does know that whoever they are they're probably complete assholes. definitely assholes, first for dragging him here and second for dumping him in a dilapidated coliseum with a sea of faces he doesn't recognize.

despite protests from strangers, and despite very much not knowing where he's going, wash wastes no time breaking off from the rest of the arrival party and trekking into the city by himself, heavily armed and kind of pissed.

maybe you tailed him because he's a capable looking dude in a full-body titanium suit, or maybe you're just trying to mind your own business while traveling from point a to point b. either way, wash hears the shuffle-step of feet behind him, different from the four-legged patter of paws on stone: they're bipedal, probably human. he waits, listens, then when the shuffling draws closer, he reaches for his sidearm and turns, weapon drawn, finger off the trigger. ]

I can hear you.

[ that's one way to make friends. ]

RAGE

[ fortunately what wash really wants isn't a physical item, so there's nothing in the booths beyond a few really sweet looking weapons (and maybe a badass cat figurine in a cape) to tempt him to madness.

he doesn't even mean to stick around and watch as every booth goes up in flames while a myriad of people scramble around in an impossible attempt to win their prizes, but. well. after his extremely busy day of slaying giant rats and scrubbing giant rat guts out of his armor, he's absolutely ready to laugh at other people's expense for a change.

or at least stand by and offer unwanted comments on their playstyle.

so if you've been struggling with your mounting rage for a while now, here wash is to make it worse by leaning against your booth, arms folded, judging every move you make that ends in failure. feel free to tell him to fuck off. he might even listen! ]

FEAR.

[Fear itself hasn't been a concern of Maul's in a long time, outside of one or two...hiccups. He wakes in a strange place under the light of a false day in what quickly proves to be an arena of some kind, for what purpose he doesn't know. It will reveal itself eventually, he knows, these things always do; the Force will show him if those around him don't.

And anyway, he's no stranger to gladiatorial combat for profit, which is what he assumes after a brief look at his surroundings.

The beast that eventually finds him is about the size of a small womp rat and holds only a passing resemblance to one. He ignores it at first, until it pushes the issue, but it's quickly dispatched, he doesn't even need to pull out his lightsaber for that, not when a precisely placed kick at its throat when it lunges does the job with minimal effort. He ends up taking down five of them before he finds the exit, and while it would be nice if they stayed confined after that, if he could find his way out without trouble he doubts they'll be contained for long.

He spreads out his awareness as he walks the city streets, feeling for others; other people, other threats, something he can use to solve the riddle of this place, and if anyone were to approach him, well. He's never had the best tolerance for people sneaking up on him, considering it's never for anything benign.]

RAGE.

[He's been at this idiotic game for an hour, and he knows very well he should know better. Shouldn't have gotten caught up in it to begin with, but once he'd started there didn't seem to be an end in sight. The more he played, the more the goal stretched out of reach...well, his temper's never been the best to begin with.

So he changes the rules, or so he thinks, except attempting to circumvent proves useless, which only frustrates him more. Before long he's smashing and kicking, and by the time the fire catches he doesn't even care so much about the prize itself so much as not losing.

The first booth ultimately ends up engulfed, and when he moves on to the next instead of bothering with the game he fully intends to just take it outright from the start. Except that holds no better luck, only more flames. Which results in more anger and more violence.

It's a vicious cycle. He wheels on the nearest humanoid who approaches to attempt to intervene and snarls at them in greeting because this entire thing is so ridiculous why can't he just have it.]

What do you want.

[Dottie didn't even have the benefit of a clutch or a purse at her side, her high heels clicking loudly across the strange... was it pavement? It wasn't like any pavement she'd ever seen. The sound echoed along the streets, empty shops dark on either side. Some were lit, but while those had goods inside, they were all curiously empty.

Maybe not terribly curiously. Last she knew, Whitney Frost and the Zero Matter were still at large. She wouldn't put it past Whitney to empty out a whole underground city and leave Peggy and her associates to fend for themselves while she picked them off one by one.

A soft sound of movement caught her ears and she paused mid-step. In a dark alleyway just to her left, just ahead. Like it was laying in wait for her.

Dottie's whole expression lit up.]

Peggy?

[Jogging a bit at the approach - she had no desire to be captured again, but in this situation she felt it a case of enemy-of-my-enemy and was absolutely certain Peggy would see it the same - Dottie was absolutely taken by surprise at the thing that was absolutely not Peggy at all.

She moved without thinking, drawing the sidearm she'd stolen from the cop that had so helpfully popped her out of the trunk Peggy had stashed her in. The bullet hit right between the ROUS's eyes, and it scrambled on the ground for a few seconds more before it realized it was very much dead. Dottie stared at it for a moment before snapping her fingers in frustration.]

... Oh shoot.

[She popped the cylinder of the revolver out to check, but clicked her tongue as she saw what she was expecting.]

Now I'm down to five.

Scenario One
[The arena is packed and Carolina is less than pleased to be stuck in the middle of a crush of people she doesn't recognize and doesn't really care to interact with, especially considering she had people waiting for her.

She'd stepped through the portal, but this was not exactly what she'd expected to find on the other side and a part of her is seething as she starts pushing her way through to find her way out of the crowded arena.

Fucking AIs.

Seriously.

This is the last thing she needs right now, and it's the rodents who cross her path that she takes her frustration out on. They're not that much of a fight, all things considered, and by the time she stops, she's at least not quite as pissed off.

For now.

So when she hears approaching footsteps, she straightens, shifting to a position where she can see the most and waits.]

☓ fear. ( this ain't my first rodeo, bucko )

( for all that might be evil and chaotic in the world, dante doesn't necessarily count himself among the likes of which he's been spending most of his natural life exterminating – and that goes without saying, because all that is evil and chaotic tends to rhyme with the word demon, and he's never been shy about cutting down what gets in his way.

that being said, it's a hell of a thing to step into a place like this, and if he's ever had a temper it's about to have one hell of a flare-up, because there's nothing like being stranded and not knowing which way the exit happens to be in.

so you can bet, without a single doubt, that the first time he catches sight of one of those rat things, he just has to go in and investigate. because there's nothing like a good weird-looking thing to catch his attention, especially when he's itching for something to take the edge off the anxious energy that's steadily building at the lack of knowing where he is and what the hell he's supposed to do. so … this dumbass is just going to check out the things in the shadows, or at least get close enough to catch its attention, and when he does?

well. he never really has to provoke something to get a reaction out of it, and this is no exception – except for when the thing launches itself at him and latches onto his arm, sinks its teeth deep enough to get a nice taste of him, and he growls a curse under his breath, tries to shake it off. )

Oh, you fucking bastard, if you weren't dead meat before you sure as fuck are now – !

( yeah. anyone that is in the general vicinity is going to hear him cursing up a colorful storm, bringing the sword he seems to have summoned out of thin air around with his free arm and taking a swing at the thing still attached to him.

it's enough to knock it loose, at least, but it doesn't keep it from wanting another taste of premium brat. )

C'mon, asshole! You gonna put up a good fight or not!?

☓ rage. ( step right up and get a kick in the ass )

( carnival booths are fucking lame, and that's all there is to it.

not to mention that he's already had e-fucking-nough of carnivals, rampant ferris wheels and hunter demons included in the mix, and when he starts to hear all the cat-calls of the carnies as he blatantly passes them by, it's all he can do to give them the finger and keep right on going.

these games are always rigged. and he's pretty sure that there isn't anything that can guarantee him the thing he wants most, unless there's some sort of miracle worker out there that can make his twin brother not off-the-wall crazy. and not want to enslave the whole of the human race for his own purposes. anyone around here capable of doing anything like that? no?

didn't think so.

but here he is, strolling his way through them, his steps looking more like a swagger than anything else – like even though he's irritated with the whole of the world, he still owns every step he takes, isn't about to take any shit from anyone, especially not the ones trying to goad him into throwing a ball or picking up a water pistol or throwing a dart and popping a balloon.

fuck your carnival games. where's the beer tent? )

Edited 2016-03-23 03:11 (UTC)

Scenario One - Fear

[ Even retired, it could be said that Lucifer knew a thing or two about fear. While he would be the first to insist that he never made any mortal do anything they didn't choose to do, once they'd made that choice, he'd been there to punish the guilty.

That punishment often brought a whole new meaning to the idea of Fear.

Thus over sized rodents, while impressive and quite fascinating by being completely different from his father's creations, did not have the same affect on him that they appeared to be having on everybody else. Instead of running from the horrific threat the creatures posed, Lucifer bidded his time, waiting until one of the creatures, bolder than the rest had a go at him.

It was quick work for the former Lord of Hell, to catch the creature up under it's throat and snap it's neck. Slamming it down to the ground, he followed, going down on one knee as he took a closer look. ]

Alright, you have my attention. Now, what is all this fuss about? [ He asked the dead rodent, as if it may have the answer.

Or perhaps someone in the immediate vicinity might have an answer? Or at least a willingness to shout out a warning; as it would appear that the rodents were not above being drawn to the blood of their own. ]

Scenario Two - Hope?

[ What an interesting place this was turning out to be. As far as he could tell, it was beyond the reach of his father's influence, which in and of itself made it work exploring.

Or at least took the sting out of having been brought here without so much as a by your leave. Lucifer had considered being highly aggrieved about that, until he realized the uniqueness of this place. Curiosity, over coming rage; for the time being at least.

It was curiosity that lead him down a turn into a side street with some mirrors. Never one to turn down the chance to ~~preen~~ check out his reflection, Lucifer stopped in front of one, smiling as the lines of his suit coat appeared in order. At least, for the brief period of time the glass reflected himself; then things changed.

Even if someone had been watching the mirror the moment Lucifer stepped in front of it, it may be hard to remember the exact details. There was light, warmth, perhaps a sense of unconditional acceptance that came with a parent's ...

Well it's hard to say.

Whatever emotions those elusive details may have engendered, the roar of anger, tinged with hurt probably shattered the warmth of hope. Lucifer snarled, nothing that was an actual word, more the warning threat of a cornered animal and in the next moment he was attempting to put his foot through the mirror.

Not exactly a hopeful response, by a long shot. ]

FEAR;

[ York has no idea where he's wound up.

He left the coliseum quickly, wanting to find out where he is. For some reason he can't get ahold of coordinates for this location, and upon stepping outside he figures that's got something to do with the fact that he's in a vast cavern. Underground, for sure. Nowhere he recognizes and no one in sight is in armor.

Also, there are giant rats leaping off the buildings onto him. So that's something else that's new.

It's pretty much impossible for the rodents to get through York's suit, but that doesn't mean they aren't trying. And when enough of them gang up on him they'll knock him down, gnawing at the joints of his armor, trying to find a weakness. Surely there's a delicious human snack inside the metal tin they've found.

Three shots ring out down the empty city street, shots that went straight through the heads of the rats that were attacking him. York shoves their corpses off him with a grunt and stands up, grimacing at the blood and brain on him now. Not that you can see his expression inside his helmet, but the disgust is clear in his voice. ]

Ugh, somebody hose me down.

[ Worse still, the blood may attract more rats... ]

HOPE;

[ He nearly steps on the mirror, the rat blood smearing his visor making it hard to see. It's the glint of light in his path that gets his attention, and York kneels to pick up the little mirror. What's it doing here, out on the street? Somebody must have dropped it, he thinks, until he looks into it and sees... himself?

Too curious to squint through the blood, York pulls off his helmet and looks again. It's him, alright, and a woman with shockingly red hair and bright blue-green eyes. They're both smiling, just sitting together outside on a hill, somewhere nondescript but lush and peaceful.

And that's how you'll find him -- his helmet under one arm, the mirror in the other hand, just staring into it like it holds the secrets of the universe. He's not so spellbound that he won't hear incoming people or rats, but at the moment the street seems quiet and so does York, as he gazes into his hopeful future. ]

fear;

( well, if this isn't something that he wasn't quite expecting. ( even when you're trained to expect the unexpected, something tells him that you're never quite ready to have giant rat-creatures shoved into your face, let alone the idea that you're somewhere distinctly not where you were before, with no knowledge of what you're supposed to do now that you're there. )

but we digress.

he's not so distraught by his situation that he doesn't immediately go into offense mode, reaching for the magnum pistol he always keeps on his person and popping off a couple of quick shots at the first thing that comes within range. ( he isn't going to waste any of those rifle cartridges, thank you so very much, and besides, they're all too close for it to be the right choice to make. the pistol will do just fine, and if push comes to shove, he's sure he can handle a little bit of hand-to-hand. they don't look that tough.

besides, what's something like that up against power armor? )

anyone that happens across him is more than welcome to give him a bit of help – even if he doesn't seem to need it, because he's trained with the best of them, and he can more than handle himself in an unfair fight. two, three against one? he's been through worse. he and south have handled way more than this on their own.

but still, any bit of help – or just simple banter – is welcome. take your pick. )

hope;

( there is very little that passes beyond his perception, even when his mind is already so full of things that there's little room for anything else. keeping that sniper mentality means keeping a constant eye on one's surroundings, and something as small as a glint captured out of the corner of his eye is enough to have his head turning, peering in the direction it had come from.

it's a mirror, half-hidden beneath a bit of rubbish that is easily pushed to the side, and it's such a strange thing to find in the middle of nowhere that he can't help but to look into it, gilded and embellished handle held carefully in one hand, the reflection of what he sees inside shining rather brightly against the surface of his helmet's visor.

the bright blonde hair is a dead give-away. the smile on his sister's face is something that he doesn't think he's seen in a long, long while, something he misses almost desperately – and with things the way they have been within the project, the shady operations and the tension building between siblings, there's very little he can think to want more than his twin's recovered happiness. something that he knows has to be just beyond her grasp, easily remedied if she'd only just let it come to her.

he leans against a nearby wall, stance still just a little too tight to be anything relaxed, and he swallows around a lump in the back of his throat that betrays his outward composure. at least his helmet is still in place, otherwise the sadness flickering across his face would be there for the whole of the city to see, something that he's more adept at keeping hidden than he has any right to.

south …

is it really that hard, kiddo? )

Fear
[ He should have paid more attention when he was going home. Should have more carefully counted the turns and sidewalks and buildings he passed. Yosuke doesn't expect the fog to thin or to find himself looking over unfamiliar buildings. They're far to round and the noises are way to similar to things you only heard in bad horror movies.

And maybe that paranoia is the only thing that keeps him from getting pinned by a giant rat. No seriously it was a giant rat. What the hell were they feeding that thing? It's like fending off a rabid dog when all he has is his hands, he wasn't expecting a problem or he'd have his kunai on him, and boy does he miss them right now.

At least he still has his hands and his experience so he doesn't look entirely stupid as he's trying to keep those massive jaws from closing on his face. Alternately, Yosuke's attempting to rabbit punch the thing off of him. It's really quite a sight for anyone that stumbles upon him, a beanpole of a seventeen year old boy wrestling with a giant rat. ]

Hope
[ When he first found the mirror, Yosuke took one glance and tried to forget about the flash he saw in the glass. There were people there instead of his face and that was enough to make him want nothing to do with it. Mirrors shouldn't reflect things that aren't there; it was creepy.

But the longer the mirror sat in his pocket, the more his curiosity grew. Was it really showing things that weren't there? Maybe it was just a trick of the light. A beam of the strange light from above flashing across the surface and creating the illusion of other people being in the circle of the ornate frame. He was not going to be caught checking to see if it was real though.

Finding an out of the way corner at a shop, Yosuke takes out the mirror and studies the image inside. Faces he both does and doesn't know, cheering while he finishes college. The hand mirror showed him a million different things things he hadn't even begun to really think about as being in his future. Yosuke had dreams, hopes, and desires yes, and those images were just so tantalizingly possible.

It makes him feel like he's worth more than the plucky sidekick to the teams leader. That he can actually do more than put a few facts together and form a plan that might meet the expectations with the rest of the team. Gives him a sense of value that he hasn't felt recently, not since their beautiful failure in December. He doesn't realize it but there's actually a goofy pleased grin on his face as a pretty (not too pretty) girl crosses the glass and embraces him. ]

[This image seemed to much to believe - that the promised 10 years of beauty that she and Joscelin had had would last a life time once they returned.

To wake to his sharp d'Angeline features each morning, to only feel the prick of Kushiel's dart so often. To have completed whatever it was the gods asked of her, to be free of their demands. To have freed Hyascinthe.

These simplicities, they seemed so large and yet so little to ask of someday.

Phedre barely even noticed the tears at the corners of her eyes as she knelt, abeyante, still as a statue but for her breath. It is the slow realization of another being's presence that caused her to lift her head.]

Fear

[Well, this is new. New wasn't really in the plan, but he could handle that, properly outfitted as he was. He just needed to figure out where he'd ended up, and get back down to where he needed to be.

The large rodent that followed him, though? That wasn't acceptable.]

Now that is just not sanitary. I'd like to speak to someone about the current state, please.

[No need to be rude while chastising someone, after all.]

Hope

[It was odd that a mirror was showing him the future, but nice to see everything on track. The destruction of Sunnydale was, of course, rather disappointing (he had put a lot of work into it), but you had to break a few eggs to make an omelet after all.

The Mayor smiled a smooth smile, and tucked the mirror into his jacket pocket. He then a small packet of wet wipes out of his jacket and carefully wiped his hands.

It seems someone over that way had their own mirror, why not go and see whether it had the same good news. ]

Edited 2016-03-24 15:36 (UTC)

Scenario One:

[Liquid had just been trying to get his bearings back when he saw a giant rat run towards him. Yep, a giant rat- thing. Monster. Whatever it was it seemed to be rabid and very hungry. The blond instinctively reached for his gun but felt an empty space where his firearm was kept at the top of his belt.

Damn.

He readied himself for an attack by the creature, as it seemed to be running straight towards him. He would have to punch and kick his way out of things it would seem. Hm. Not a problem considering he had training and this large rat wouldn't pose too much of a problem for the FOXHOUND leader.]

Come on then you big bloody brute.

Scenario Two:

[It wasn't often that Liquid found himself staring into a mirror looking back at himself. He did admire his figure but the face; it reminded him too much of his father. That was something he despised about himself. The jaw, the nose, the eyes. His father and twin brother staring back at him. Yet, the mirror wasn't showing his features, instead it was showing him a moving image. Metal Gear REX was in the mirror's image along with Ocelot standing beside Liquid handing over what looked like a large amount of money.

The billion dollars? Isn't that what he dreamt for? That his plans would actually come to fruition? He studied the image further and wondered if this was some cruel joke by whatever magic this mirror possessed. Yet, the blond couldn't help but be entranced by it all.]

Edited 2016-03-25 09:00 (UTC)

I ATE ALL THE FEAR

You know how also loves flesh? An axe-wielding Pyscho who has really been hankering for something deserving to kill. Fighting R.O.U.S.'s isn't like dismembering bandits or burning varkids alive, and Krieg's actually managed to get a little swamped. Once they get past the radius of his axe, they're swarming all over him, nipping and sinking their teeth into his very exposed, very biteable flesh.

"SHE WOULDN'T - STOP - SCREAMING - AT - ME!" He twists around and rams his back into the nearest wall, sandwiching the one clinging to his shoulderblades and crushing it off him.

His muffled grunts and howls aren't quiet, nor are his attempts to dislodge as many of the little beasts as he can.

NO HOPE FOR THE RECKLESS MONGERER

He'd picked up the mirror in one meaty fist, and now its taunting little shadow-pictures won't leave him alone. The images dart infrequently from one extreme to another - there he is, axe in hand, screaming his delight as he rips a man's arm clean off from the roots. And there he is, his face unblemished and unbroken, whole again, whole again, whole again, but that's not allowed, there's no pastries allowed at the cookout, and he crouches back and shakes his head with rough, feral noises of discontent until the image changes again.

We could actually be a functioning person again, murmurs the brain-voice a little wistfully, and Krieg slams one closed fist into the side of his head, which hurts, and does nothing to shut the voice up.

"Don't tell me what to do!" he growls. For all anyone who might watching may know, he's speaking to empty air.

Just look at it.

A long, pained hgnrnng sound peels out from his throat until finally, with little regard for his surroundings or who he might hit in the process, Krieg snatches the mirror up and hurls it as far away from him as possible.

No 1

[Something's up.

Chat Noir's not sure what, but something is up. He'd felt eyes on him for the last few minutes, following him as he walked down the street in his alter ego (or is this the alter ego? It's hard to tell, sometimes). It had been bad enough he'd given in, ducking behind a bus stop and transforming.

Now, he's perched on top of a street light, ignoring the chill of fear trickling down his back. It's something he's intimately familiar with, fear. He experiences it every day getting hit off the sides of buildings, seeing people he knows in harm's way.

Seeing Ladybug vanish inside the mouth of an angry Tyrannosaurus...]

No, not now. [He hisses, shaking his head to get the image out of his head, just a chittering sounds from an alleyway to his right. He turns, one hand reaching behind him to take hold of his staff, slitted eyes narrowing at the darkness before--]

Ah, ah, what do we have-- Euch! [At first, it had just been eyes. Beady little eyes glinting in the shadows, but then the eyes gave way to bodies, at least ten large, ugly rodents suddenly charging at the post he was crouched on top of.

He jumps to another, slipping slightly on the sloped top before catching his balance, looking down wide-eyed at the creatures turning to charge at the base of his new perch.]

Like a cat chased up a tree, no? And here I thought cat and mouse was supposed to go the other way!

No 2

[Now here's a picture right out of some wistful romance movie. A young boy, sitting on a bench, holding a gold mirror in one hand, his other holding his chin up, braced on his knee as he leans forward. He has a dopey smile on his face, eyes slightly unfocused, as if he's both watching the images play out on the mirror as well as looking at something a hundred miles away.

On the surface of that reflective glass, a scenario plays out again and again. A girl in a red suit, black spots lining the surface perfectly, swings down on what appears to be a magic yo-yo. She smiles, waves, and Adrien comes into view, grinning and with a slight flush on his face. He holds out his hand, and the superheroine takes it, laughing behind her own hand. They pause, for a moment, before leaning in, pecking each other on the lips just as fireworks are set off, framing the Eiffel Tower in the background, bathing the two young lovers in swaths of light.

If anyone comes close, wondering what's up with this lovesick idiot, Adrien will glance up, still smiling dopily, and say: ]

Do you see? Do you see this? Ah, I knew it would happen someday! [All before looking down at the mirror again, sighing out a dreamy ] Oh, Ladybug.

One.

[Krem has never been opposed to a fight. He's a soldier, after all, or at least was, and still makes a living fighting others now, under one banner or another. Fighting animals isn't even all that unheard of, between wolves and bears and dragons, depending on the situation, it's mostly a matter of what and why.

Giant rats? Little more unusual. But at the end of the day, they're only rats, and his maul can take them out just fine.

...so long as he can stay on top of their numbers anyway; one or two come at him, and he knocks them back without a problem, a few more and he doesn't have that much more trouble. They retreat, and he figures that's the worst of it, they've learned their lesson, so he continues on. He doesn't know where he is, doesn't recognize the coliseum as being from anywhere he's been or heard of, and he doesn't see any of the other Chargers nearby, which would have his guard up even if the sudden onslaught of unusually large rats hadn't already. If he can find an exit, or someone who can fill in the gaps, it'll be fine, but there isn't one to be found, at least not at first.

And then another rat pokes its nose out. Which wouldn't have been a problem if another hadn't joined in while he was preoccupied by the first. And another came after that, and before long he was up against an entire swarm of them, which was more frustrating than anything else, but he could only keep it up for so long, he was only human, after all.]

Three.

[The booths are like something from a feast day, a collection of amusements for the masses, and it isn't that he's unfamiliar with the process, he's just never participated before; the Chargers find their amusements in battle and taverns, not stalls where the sole goal is to throw a ball at a series of pins to win a child's toy. Being welcomed in villages and cities long enough to actually participate in festivals isn't a regular occurrence, with their reputation.

So really, he's entirely content to stroll down the promenade and watch the other inhabitants of their little ragtag city give the games their best shot and fail. There's nothing on the shelves he wants badly enough to play, after all, he's perfectly content with what he has, the only thing he could want is to find his companions but that's not going to be accomplished by games.

He's watching you try, though. Leaned up against a post or the stall itself, with a teasing smirk twisting his lips and his arms crossed over his chest, the more you miss or come up just short the more amused he seems to grow. Maybe because he thinks he can do better, maybe because your reaction is too entertaining to school his own expression properly, he doesn't really give much up either way, but he seems set on sticking around.]

I think you nearly had it that time, I really do. You're bound to wear it down sooner or later.

Threaded | Flat

Page 1 of 2

malia tate | teen wolf

Alice : The Magicians (books) : OTA

Mitsuhide Akechi | Samurai Warriors

Damen | The Captive Prince

Suien | Naruto

Dean Winchester | Supernatural

tony snark from that superhero shit ★

Fiona ( tales from the borderlands )

Cole | Dragon Age: Inquisition

laurent ( captive prince )

agent washington | red vs. blue