Test Drive Meme # 1

[hadrielmods]

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.]

Comments

[greywaren]

[Ronan rolls his eyes at her before doing just that- seemingly unaffected by the death or the closeness with the body as he works quickly, methodically. It's clear that he hasn't exactly done this sort of thing before, with how he skips certain places that a trained professional would look- he only checks the pockets and shoes, not the waistband or lining of the dead man's jacket.

Upon finding pretty much nothing, he leans back on his heels with a sigh. The bird croons from where she's sitting behind him and starts to preen her feathers, but Ronan pays her no mind.]

Bird's not gonna help much here.

[There's a pause and gaze- cold, snakelike- flits up to the small knife in her fingers. If she was going to make a move to hurt him, she probably would have done so by now. Doesn't mean that she's not a threat. The fact that he's still breathing doesn't mean much of anything, given their circumstances.]

So, are you gonna do this or are you gonna give me the knife?

[hotdisaster]

[ This is already boring. Cutting out the heart would be nothing, just another job, and not even an interesting one. Vi considers the knife for a moment, then tosses it over to Ronan with a sneer at the raven on his shoulder—call her interested in seeing what he does. ]

I think you missed a few spots on him.

[ Not trained, then, not in stealing and in corpses. Of course. There really isn't anything else here to pay attention to in this room, is there? He's the only one who might have any sort of information, and, well, at the very least she wonders what the fuck he's doing with a bird. Maybe he'll speak and say something worth hearing.

She takes a step closer and crouches next to him as though she's joining him in examining the body, purposefully angling herself so that the scandalously low neckline of her shirt reveals pretty much everything inside it has to offer. Vi's eyes flick sideways. ]

The faster you do it, the faster we'll be out. I'd had to be trapped alone in this dark much longer, not even sure where we are.

[greywaren]

[The criticism earns her a glare, sharp enough to cut, and Ronan takes the knife from her in a quick, jerky motion. He looks at the blade, pressing a thumb against the flat of it to test the weight, before he lifts his arm up to neatly slice the man's shirt open.

After that, it's- well, it's just cutting and pulling, isn't it? Nothing to it. If the guy was still alive, they'd have problems, but he's not. It's just like- well, Ronan's never done anything quite like this before, and when he glances up toward the woman for any sort of silent direction, he gets... well, the sort of eyeful that he's not really expecting.

There's the slightest of pauses, both because he's not sure if it's intentional and he's also not sure if he should say anything. Of course, Ronan was never one for politely disregarding something, and so all Vi gets for her efforts is a slight huff as he turns back to the corpse.]

Do you mind?

[It's tinged with a little annoyance. Ronan nods toward her chest, and while he's sure that it would be a lovely view for most, he's also not the guy you want to go with for sightseeing.

He makes the first cut, and- well, the knife doesn't go past the sternum and the cut winds up being shallow. Ronan frowns and tries to work around it a little, his mouth thin in frustration as he goes for one of the ribs, awkwardly working the metal between the bones and- well, that's not going quite as he'd hoped, but he tries to pry it free from the sternum anyway. Don't think about it, just- just do it, but the tools he has might as well be toothpicks and he's never done this before, no matter how nonchalant he's acting.]

-shit.

[hotdisaster]

[ Does she mind?

Vi was wondering what reaction she could get out of Ronan with her usual information-gathering tactics, but that's not a reaction she gets very often. She's not using a glamour, but she's near enough and her tits are visible enough that with most she wouldn't need to be using one. So. He probably prefers fucking men, not women. It's really a relief in the end, anyway.

She shrugs and straightens. It did tell her something.

She continues to learn more about him as he works the knife. For however creepy he looks, he's not doing a very good job with either one. Vi could do it herself in an instant, but... let him get covered with dead body, not her. He's already there, anyway. ]

Having trouble?

[ It sounds just as sarcastic as it's meant to be. ]

Not a threadjack - just in Vi's head

[mercurialize]

[Do you feel that Vi? In the far distance...

It is the overwhelming tingle of disappointment wrapped in a healthy dose of disgust. He doesn't know the details, nor does he want to. But Kylar is picking up enough from her to solidify his own thoughts. It's not good.]

[greywaren]

[It's not going particularly well. The letter opener is flimsy as it is, and it's not edged, at least, definitely not enough to cut through the bones of the ribcage. God, this is so gross. God, and he tries not to think about the last time he was crouched over a dead and mangled body- except now, he's the one doing the mangling, and it's so sick, but he has no choice.

The first rib finally snaps off with a sickening sound, and Ronan grits his teeth as he reaches his hand in to wrap his fingers around it, pulling it out of the way and trying not to pay attention to the churning in his stomach.

Get the heart. Come on, just eleven (nine? he didn't pay attention in biology) ribs to go.]

If you're not going to be helpful, you can get the fuck out of my light.

[He hisses it tersely, barely glancing up toward her in annoyance.]

[hotdisaster]

[ Maybe it's the feelings she's picking up from Kylar in the distance, so subtle as to be mingling with her own (she has them, occasionally) and muddling the usual response she'd be giving. Or maybe it's just that she can't stand looking at that mangled body, the slow process at which Ronan is ripping apart the corpse, because the longer Vi looks the longer she just sees Hu Gibbet there instead—except Hu is slow and mangling the corpse on purpose, chuckling to himself, leaning back with rib and gore on his hands and saying, "Isn't it beautiful? Look at your master's work, Vi. Remember not to waste a bit, that every stroke of your brush should be precise. We'll paint a pretty picture together."

She swallows back a sudden swell of disgust and kicks at Ronan: lightly, but with enough force to say, move. ]

I could say the same to you. You don't have a fucking clue, do you? Hand it over.

[greywaren]

Don't be a bitch about it.

[He snarls up at her, shoving angrily at the leg that she used to nudge him. In doing so, he smears the blood from his hand to her leg, but that's mostly just a side effect of his annoyance.

Regardless, it's not like he's getting anywhere particularly fast, so Ronan rolls his eyes and drops the letter opener right in the gaping wound he's created, letting the piece of rib in his fingers fall to the floor as well. He wipes his hands haphazardly on the corpse's jacket and stands up, taking a step or two away from the body with a sound of disgust.]

There. Bon Appétit. Happy now?

[hotdisaster]

[ She armors herself with her anger, sneering in response. A wetboy shouldn't have blood on her grays: it's a messy job, a poor job if she does. It'll take forever to get out, and it'll probably dry into the fabric by the time they're out of here.

Well. At least he didn't get it on her hair. ]

Sure. I'm one happy, happy bitch.

[ Vi sinks into her anger and simultaneously grasps at her Talent, muttering the foulest insults she can think of at Ronan to make the corpse's ribcage snap beneath her fingertips with a touch, with sickening cracks. If she's angry, she doesn't have to be anything else. She doesn't have to think about this lump of flesh beneath her and the pieces of its body being ripped from its chest.

Her work is efficient, obviously that of someone who knows what she's doing and who has done this before, and Vi finishes the job in mere moments. She finds what she wants and stands, both the now-useless letterknife and the long-dead heart in her hand. ]

If this doesn't work, it isn't my heart we're trying next.

[greywaren]

[Ronan doesn't look away. He watches her cut and work, his expression flat, his posture rigid. He doesn't grimace, doesn't pull away, just watches as the knife cuts through flesh and ribs are pried apart and she works almost effortlessly at getting the heart out.

He doesn't quite understand how it works- she's smaller than him, she should be having a rougher time of it- but it's out in no time and Ronan takes a step back, nodding toward the pedestal with a sneer.]

I'd like to see you fucking try.

[Behind him, Chainsaw croons and flutters up, perching back comfortably on his shoulder while he backs up, setting a hand on the doorknob as he waits for her to set the heart down.]

Get on with it.