dankmemes | Test Drive Meme #8

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!test drive

Test Drive Meme #8

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 April 24th, and apps are open May 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: DEAD FLESH BUFFET
[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 lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect chance to swarm around you and chow down. This time, the Door has brought in a group of rotfiends, from the video game The Witcher.

These unpleasant-looking creatures are necrophages, meaning they feed on the flesh of the dead, and if that flesh is in short supply they are happy to add to it. Normally found in groups, they are fast and difficult to corner. What's more, when on the verge of death, they have an annoying tendency to explode into a flammable cloud of poisonous toxins. You left your torch at home, right?]

R A G E
SCENARIO TWO: MMM WHATCHA SAY
[There you were, just walking along the street, minding your own business like a good underground hell-city citizen, when all of a sudden you saw someone. It was like love at first sight - if by 'love' you mean 'deep burning hatred'. You've never wanted to kill someone so much, and why? Well, you're not really sure, but there's probably a reason! You'll just have to figure it out. Or not. Who needs a reason for murder, anyway?

Or maybe you're the one someone else has targeted. Maybe you know they're after you and you're desperately trying to watch your back. Why do they hate you? You don't even know them. Or maybe you do, maybe they're your best friend. Either way, this is a super awkward situation, and someone might end up dead. Hopefully not you!

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

H O P E

SCENARIO THREE: SCRATCH OFF
[This morning, you received a scratch ticket in the mail (who knew Hadriel even had mail?), addressed to you. The instructions are clear enough - scratch off three matching icons, and you win a prize! Sure, okay. But here's the grand prize: a one-way ticket home.

Unfortunately, try as you might, you aren't gonna win that one, but keep hoping! And hey, just think of all the other GREAT PRIZES you could win: an inflatable duck, a plastic ring to give your sweetheart, an empty can of Red Bull, a cell phone charm shaped like a strange green creature with a boner.

So what if you didn't win that ticket home? You got something almost as good: a shitty prize! Thanks, Hope!]

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[ RAGE ]
[ This was not a normal day. It was definitely a decidedly not-at-all-normal day.

It started with being pulled into a strange place - which, for all his understanding of the world, of physics and artificial intelligence, should not be possible - and continued with someone suddenly pulling a knife on him.

Now, Harold was under no delusions that he'd made nothing but friends in his lifetime, but he didn't even know this person. So, after a very, very lucky escape - involving a nearby wooden beam and some very quick thinking - he manages to limp into an abandoned building, heaving for breath and dragging the nearest chair to block the door.

What on earth was going on? The few clues about this place he had picked up seemed to indicate that he was in another place entirely, with the strange architecture and the unfamiliar faces (and species) he had observed while hobbling to his safe house. He whips out his phone, but calling John results in nothing but an out of area message.

The chair against the door shakes, and he shifts back against a wall, grabbing the nearest metal object. ]

[ or wildcard me ]

[Unfortunately, Harold, you're not the only one being chased by someone with murder in their eyes, and you're not the only one who's managed to assess that this building provides a favorable escape from said would-be murderer, either. That chair isn't too sturdy, and Mello is both surprisingly stronger than his thin frame might suggest and extremely determined to get inside. After a few hard shoves, the door flies open and Mello pushes his way in, quickly slamming the door shut behind him again.

... Oh. Well. Mello thought he'd be alone. This might be a little awkward.]

[ The pipe immediately flies up, Harold's arm shaking slightly with the adrenaline rushing through his system. His glasses slipped halfway down his nose in the rush to get to safety and he still hasn't thought to push them back up - a testament to how out of it this sudden attack has rendered him - and Harold squints and scrunches his face up, trying to make out the face of the person who crashed in.

... And then his brain catches up to his body and he just pushes his glasses up with one hand, still brandishing the pipe. Just in case.

But this person doesn't look like his attacker, nor - although Harold is more than aware that facial expressions aren't a perfect indicator of anyone's thoughts - particularly full of rage. So he, slowly, lowers the pipe, edging away from the wall. ]

I take it I'm not the only one being followed? [ That almost - almost - sounds more like a question to the ether. ]

[Mello's hand twitches for the gun tucked into the back of his waistband when he sees the pipe move, but there's enough distance between them, and the other man isn't advancing, so he lets his hand slowly drop back down to his side, watching warily for any sign of trouble. The other man looks more troubled than likely to cause trouble himself, but Mello knows well enough that looks can be deceiving, so he keeps his gaze locked on him for the moment.]

That's right. Seems like there's a city-wide free-for-all going on.

[Mello's no stranger to being targeted; even before Kira knew his name, there were countless gangs and lawmen who would've counted catching or killing him as a worthy feather in their caps. But being that kind of target makes sense, because Mello chose to take certain actions and walk down a certain path to get to where he is now - or was, before he was brought here, wherever this is. Becoming a target under those standings is only logical. This, though ...

Well, enough small talk.]

Who are you?

[ Harold walks - well, limps - closer, still holding onto the pipe but now more as an accessory, or a 'just in case someone decides to run after them' option than any sort of immediate defence. ]

Harold Monal. [ An on-the-spot alias, but it's hardly about to be inspected now, is it? ] And you are?

[Mello knows a lot about aliases, having abandoned his birth name and gone by aliases since he was a small child, first brought to the House to learn how to be a successor to L, the world's greatest detective. In fact, if he knew the name Harold gave was an alias, he'd definitely approve; even so many years into Kira's tyrannical reign, a lot of people were still too eager to give their real names, which was stupid and suicidal, in Mello's opinion.

There was a time when Mello was glad to have people know his chosen name, his main alias, because it came with a reputation for being ruthless and determined to reach his goals, despite the odds or costs. He built that name up for himself among the criminal underworld after he ceded the title as the next L to Near and left the House, used it to gain favor with the Mafia, used it to inspire fear in those who opposed him. Now, though - Kira had his real name too, and the paradoxical anonymity his alias afforded him was blown to bits, the same as his last hideout, the same as the left half of his face. He'd started using other aliases too, older and lesser used names, though none were as old as Mello, his first false name. But did it even matter anymore? He was about to set into motion a perfect zwischenzug designed to bring Kira out into the light of day once and for all, and it all hinged on his name being known. Besides, from what he'd been able to gather, there was only a small probability that Kira and his agents were here in this place too. A name isn't always just a name, but it doesn't necessarily have to mean more than that, either.]

Mello. Any theories about what's going on out there, Harold?

[He hooks his thumb toward the door, indicating the mayhem outside.]

Edited 2016-04-29 04:34 (UTC)

[The gods have unleashed another batch of strangers and fresh monstrosities on them. Indeed, it is that time again. Maketh has her rifle held at the ready while she patrols, checking the inhabited houses and a few others that she's marked as potential supply drops or points of interest. And while she might have missed Harold's run in with one of the knife-wielding locals - which might describe most of them at this point - she does notice when one of the doors that's usually unlocked is no longer so.

That's a problem. Maketh squares her shoulders and promptly kicks it in, then moves to scout the room, rifle held at the ready.

Oh. She wasn't expecting to see a person in the room. Another monster, perhaps, but the new arrivals don't usually hide like this.

Just in case, she keeps the gun pointed at him.] State your name.

[ For... reasons, Harold is still wielding the pipe he found and keeping as far away from the door as possible, although his breathing has finally returned to normal.

... At least until someone kicks in the door and points a gun at him. He grips the pipe tighter, half-anticipating his death because how is he, of all people, going to outspeed a gun?

But they don't shoot and just ask his name. So he exhales, although doesn't quite let go of the pipe just yet. ]

Harold Monal. [ Giving his real name though? No. Not even his real name is his real name. ]

[A newcomer, then. Holding a pipe at the ready. A smart newcomer, Maketh corrects. That's good. He'll probably live longer. She nods curtly and lowers the gun, but doesn't shoulder it. Just in case.] Maketh Tua. Something chasing you?

[ With another breath released from his lips, Harold shifts a little, stepping away from the wall. His leg feels more leaden than usual, probably due to all the sudden physical exertion. ]

Someone pulled a knife on me. I judged this to be my safest option. [ He recites this, states it with full composure and certainty. ]

It probably was. [Maketh scans the room quickly, then jerks her head towards the door.] We should move. It's safer further inside the city. Are you injured?

I'm fine. [ Read: no more than usual. ] Exactly what is this city? [ Because he's travelled most of Earth, and it is nothing like anything he's seen. Not even in books that talk of old civilizations. ]

[Maketh nods just once. If he says it is so, then she will take him at his word. She's not in the habit of coddling strangers.] It's called Hadriel. You've been pulled very far from home, I'm afraid.

[ Good, because he doesn't do coddling. Like at all.

His face seems to -- flicker with a mixture of relief and frustration, warring with each other for a brief second, when she mentions being pulled away from home. ] Hmm... And are people here often in the habit of attempting to kill newcomers? [ Because, on the one hand - yes, he's dragged away from a world that needs him now, and that sucks... but on the other, if that isn't normal, he won't miss hiding from Samaritan's agents twenty four seven. ]

That part is new. [Maketh finally does shoulder the rifle. It's easier to move that way and she's deemed that he's not a threat to her. So far, at least. The majority of the people that come to Hadriel aren't - such is the danger posed by the gods.] Usually the wildlife does it for them. If you have any weapons, sir, I would suggest you get ready to use them.

[ Wildlife that wants people dead. Oh. Joy. Harold hurries as best he can, ignoring the pain that shoots through his spine, gritting his teeth with each step. He did - at least - have his medication in a pocket of his suit, enough to tide him over for a few days.

What he would do after that, however, was a question best avoided for the moment. He would much rather go through the list of what he did have on him, aside from the pipe he drags along. Phone. Wallet (likely useless). A couple of tracking bugs and a communication earpiece. Not exactly the arsenal of Mr. Reese's dreams. ]

I'm not sure how much help I am going to be to you right now. [ Like, he'll hit shit that tries to kill him but... Harold's pretty much the definition of 'non-combat'. Unless a spotter was useful. He was pretty good at that when Mr. Reese roped him into it? ]

[It would have been better if Harold were a military man - then Maketh would know how best to utilize him - but that doesn't mean he's useless. Far from it, really. She hasn't found a single person in Hadriel who hasn't - in one way or another - pulled their own weight. As the Empire would say, each soul had earned their survival.

Maketh is trying not to be an Imperial anymore, but the habit remains. Some things are hard to shake.

She notes the stiff way that Harold moves, but doesn't comment on it. If he can keep up, then there's nothing to say. Besides, they don't have far to go. Just a few more blocks and they'll be within the thicker part of the city. The monsters don't often come this far, and she can put Harold in one of the apartments - with a proper lock on the door.] That's fine. Just follow behind me. All right?

Very well. [ Following behind is something he can do. So, with a nod, he keeps behind her, eyes darting from side to side in case of murderous wildlife. ] Just out of curiosity, what sort of wildlife are we looking for? Lions, tigers, bears?

Monsters.

[She doesn't hesitate, just scans the doorways and rooftops just in case. It's not far now. She'll put him in one of the Spires, Maketh decides. That way she can keep an eye on him if she needs to, and she's personally scouted out those buildings.] As I said. You're very far from home.

[ He doesn't know what he expected. ]

I take it their biology is a mystery. [ Thanks, world. That's wonderfully helpful. ]

Some more than others. [Maketh ducks around a pile of rubble, then points at the nearest Spire.] These buildings have been checked. And the doors have proper locks. Sometimes...well. The gods get hungry. I suppose I ought to explain that part. Come inside?

[ That's good to know. Harold breathes a sigh of relief that they're there, but he doesn't unwind just yet.

The gods get hungry...? ] Yes. Thank you. [ And inside they go! ]

[Maketh checks the hall briefly before turning back to Harold.] I live in that one -- [she points] -- so remember that, if you need anything. Most of these are empty. Fortunately, the locks are strong.

[ He nods. ] It appears that way. [ He spends a few moments peering at the doors in the hall, inspecting them. ]

I am most grateful for your assistance, Miss Tua.

[ Oh, and: ] If you happen to spot a tall, suited man who is incredibly skilled in combat, please direct him to me. [ Door selected. Let's hope it's empty! ]

We protect our own. [Or at least Maketh is trying to. She pauses.] I'm afraid that describes more than a few people here. Could you be more specific?

[Perhaps not the suited aspect, but most everyone has changed clothes by now.]

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Test Drive Meme #8

harold finch. person of interest.

ragin' if that's cool

always

hooray!

\o/

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