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dankmemes2015-09-17 07:18 pm
hadrielmods) wrote in dankmemes2015-09-17 07:18 pm
Entry tags:
Test Drive Meme # 1
Welcome to Hadriel's very first 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 September 24th, and Apps are open October 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!
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: ANYONE GOT A LIGHT?
[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. In this instance, the door has managed to grab something truly horrific, and it's definitely out for blood (and brains) tonight.
Smokers are enemies in the video game series Left 4 Dead, who use their prehensile tongues to capture unwitting people and either drag them away for consumption or hang them up to strangle them. With all of the activity of characters trying to find out what's going on and where they are, there are more than a few of them, lingering in the shadows and waiting to try strike at anyone who may be lagging behind.]
SCENARIO TWO: YOUR HEART WILL GO ON
[You awaken in a windowless room, the walls strangely curved. The door, when you try it, is quite firmly locked. No amount of force is able to break through, so it seems to be sealed by supernatural means. Next to the door stands a slender pedestal, about as big around as a large man's thigh. At the top of the pedestal is a indentation, as if something were meant to go there.
But you're not alone in this room. There are two things with you: a person and a corpse. Pinned to the body is a note: Place a heart on the pedestal to leave. Tucked neatly into the corpse's pocket is a letter opener, small and not particularly sharp.
Did you have weapons or tools on you before? You don't now. But look at it this way: what better form of bonding is there than helping a friend or stranger dig a heart out of a corpse with nothing but a letter opener and your bare hands?]
H O P E
SCENARIO THREE: HAVE YOU HAD YOUR BREAK-IN TODAY?
[You're standing outside a storefront, colored glass set into intricate designs. It's beautiful, artistic, but more importantly - there's definitely food inside. Good food, too, by the glimpses you can see through the window. In fact - wait a minute - isn't that your favorite dish in there, just waiting for you? You've been searching for food for hours, it seems, and the city is bare. Your tummy is getting awful rumbly. What luck!
You try the door. Cruelly, it is locked. The food taunts you, just out of reach.
The glass is lovely, intricate, but it's just glass. Or maybe you know how to pick locks. Or maybe there's a back way in. Or maybe some passing friend will be able to help you. There's a lot of options here, if what you really want is a mouthful of the finest... whatever it is you like.]
inquisitor trevelyan ; dragon age: inquisition
[ Shadows seem to curl around the streets like smoke, or maybe they've been there all along and she's just now noticing the way they seem to follow, to obscure her surroundings so thoroughly that she feels more off-guard than she has in ages. Cecily Trevelyan, brows knit in careful scrutiny, is extremely aware of the weight of the quiver at her back as she walks, boots click-clicking on the stones and thudding dully against the packed earth. The place has only reminded her of the Deep Roads thus far, an unpleasant memory as any that squirms in the pit of her stomach like a worm.
Maker, but this is impossible. To be in the halls of Skyhold one moment, and then-... What had happened, exactly? The memories seem half-formed at the edges of her mind. She raises a hand to press to her temple as she wanders, fighting off a tiny, burning headache that's threatening to occupy more of her thoughts than she'd like. Clearly, there's work to be done here, and it starts with figuring out all the details of how and why and keeping safe, and keeping others safe, too, as often has been the case.
Then, something stirs off and behind her. The Inquisitor freezes, ears pricked for any sound, and immediately she thinks darkspawn. It isn't lucky that the monster isn't darkspawn, exactly: better the devil you know, or so they say. Instead, as she reaches around to slip her longbow out in preparation, something rogue wraps securely and too-swiftly around her wrist and pulls with tremendous force. She can't help it; Cecily yelps in surprise, but uses her free hand to work free a dagger at her hip to try and extricate herself as the beast drags her steadily toward it, whatever "it" is.
Another day in the life of the world's most Unfortunate person. ]
hope
[ There is a pot of soup just beyond the window and she can hardly believe her eyes. She should be able to believe it; by all accounts, she's seen her share of impossible things in the past year and managed to live through them ("miraculously," as Varric had explained). Still, it is impossible that the soup from her childhood would be sitting inside one of the buildings in her strange new home, waiting patiently for someone (her?) to come in and at least examine it.
But the door is locked. Of course the door is locked! When isn't the door locked, busted, rusted, broken, or otherwise keeping things just out of reach?
It isn't an issue. Cecily smiles, tight-lipped and somehow mischievous, and glances briefly down the street. Strangers, few and uninterested in the young woman staring fervently through a random window. Feeling very much in her younger years again, the Inquisitor tucks a stray curl behind her ear and crouches, slipping a lock pick from the pouch at her side. She hasn't felt very prepared for this misadventure before, but this is one of the rare times she's considered herself well-met with a situation thus far.
And she's only going to look inside, to see what the possible reason for the soup's presence could be. Because it wasn't just any soup; there was an exact number of carrots bobbing in the broth because she'd had a strange period of fixation with certain numbers. It was the same tan streaked with gold, sporting shredded chicken and quarters of potatoes, flecked with parsley and a dusting of spices that she could practically smell. Their cook had prepared it for years when she was a child to her exact, youthful (and fickle) specifications... and it even seemed to be in one of their old bowls, porcelain white and deep green.
It could be a coincidence, easily. But she had to know for sure. ]
Fear-One!
A swift sharp blade slices the tongue that was holding her wrist, severs it several feet back, much closer to the misshapen being that it was formally attached to, and in short order a shield makes contact with what passes for a face on it, heavy and solid and if that sound is correct certainly breaking something in it and knocking it back a few steps while in a daze.
Blackwall now stands between the Inquisitor and the Smoker and calls to her over his shoulder while he prepares to go another round with it.]
Inquisitor! Are you hurt?
[He needs to know if this is a cut and run because the Inquisitor is dying situation.]
no subject
Yes! [ Thank the Maker. He's the first she's seen of her companions and it's enormously comforting. Cecily nods firmly to Blackwall (or Thom, depending on the day) as she works the longbow from over her back, and successfully this time. ]
It isn't dead! [ She calls, but he knows that. It's making to run, its hold on the target broken, so she dips to a knee and takes careful aim, longer than usual. The arrow whistles through the air and finds the back of its head, slowing the monster to a stumble for the warrior to finish it off. ]
no subject
Gosh that is gross. He's used to gross, at least.]
[Now that they have a moment to breathe, since no others have made an appearance and there's no sound of the telltale coughs echoing from nearby, Blackwall gives his sword a quick wipedown before he sheathes it at his side again.]
Damn good to see you, Inquisitor. I don't suppose you have any idea where we are this time?
no subject
And you. I... would have said the Deep Roads, but something about this place is... strange. Which is saying a lot, I know, considering.
[ What with the Deep Roads being... the way that they are.
Cecily straightens up, finally tearing her eyes away from the beast. ]
It doesn't seem to be any darkspawn, or... demon that I've ever seen. [ Carefully, the Inquisitor approaches, glancing at its severed tongue and separated head. ] It seems almost humanoid. More like an abomination than anything. Still...
[ He knows as well as she does; it'd be very, very unusual if it's something neither of them have seen throughout all their adventures.
Still examining the fallen beast, she asks: ]
Have you seen any of the others?