Welcome to Ryslig's test drive meme! If you're considering apping here, this is where you can try your characters out in the game's setting. A few things to note:
You can only app ONE character per round so choose wisely.
We now have a Quick Game Facts that simplifies the basic information about the game. Good if you want to see what the game is at a glance!
Lots of people have asked good questions on the FAQ, so do take a look.
The reserve date has been announced (it was changed to the 30th to allow a maximum number of people compared to a Friday).
Test drive meme threads can be used for your roleplay sample!
NEW! Players with characters already in the game can earn up to a maximum of 3 coins by replying to potential character threads! You will need to have your normal 20 comment AC in the game. You cannot use this to go over the bonus 10 coins per month total, but you can use it if you are missing some threads to reach that coin total. Same rules as normal bonuses apply.
Sample scenarios:
SCENARIO ONE: So you've just arrived, fresh out of the hospital, and already the natives are trying to get on your good side. Offers of food, shelter and other luxuries in return for hoping you don't eat them. They even have some helpful pamphlets to share with you. "How To Deal With Changes", "Alternatives to Human Flesh", "What to Expect When You're Expecting (to turn into a monster)" are all great pamphlets. There's even some detailing certain monsters, and the changes they go through.
Among these however, are some... not so helpful ones. "Bunnyipyips And You", "Axe Thief Axehounds," and "So you're becoming a Fur Bearing Trout" among others.
SCENARIO TWO: You've become hopelessly lost in Lager Woods. Paths don't seem to lead where you remember them leading, and you feel as if you're going around in circles. Childlike giggling can be heard from no direction in particular. Suddenly, you stumble upon another character, who seems to be just as lost as you! Perhaps you can find a way out together. Or maybe they want you for lunch...
SCENARIO THREE: You've heard about the fog, but you've never seen it before. Now, the mist surrounds you. Barely able to see before you, you need to get home - and fast. It's far too dangerous in this situation.
SCENARIO FOUR: The time has come and you've found yourself becoming a monster. Is the change instant, or gradual? Are you familiar enough with monsters to know what's happening, or is it a complete shock? NOTE: Feel free to pick any monster type for this prompt, but note that you may not get the same one in game.
A monster...? [Ryou scratches his cheeks, a nervous but excited smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.] That sounds pretty far-fetched...
[He scoots a little closer to the poor villager, plucking one of every different copy.] Do you mind if I take some more? Thanks!
[He...didn't even wait for an answer, but it's too late, because Ryou is gone off to read all those pamphlet with absolutely sparkling fascination.] The world building in these things are incredible! I bet I could use some of these in my next campaign of Monster World.
[Tilting his head thoughtfully, he taps his chin.] Jounouchi-kun probably wouldn't like the part about Shades...
jsyk i'm using yugi in pov because he's pre-memory world
[Oh hey, Yugi knows that guy! What a remarkable coincidence they are both here, and also that he overhears part of Bakura's saying.] Jonouchi-kun wouldn't like any of it. [let's be real. jonouchi is a chicken about horror. it's no secret.]
[ Hershel isn't sure where, exactly, he's ended up. It turns out to be one of the few questions the people shoving leaflets and books into his arms are willing to answer when he manages to find a foothold in the constant barrage, but the answers are not comforting. He's very positive that the Ryslig Peninsula is no place he's heard of in London, nor is Vandare but they seem to see little reason to clarify. As a matter of fact, they don't seem to be willing to address much of what he says. They brush off his questions about Luke by appeasing him - maybe some had seen him, some had seen children that looked like him, some certainly had spoken to a new arrival named Luke (of unspecified age, of course), some were already working to gather a search party to help, but everyone had something to hurriedly impart onto him while they added to the growing pile of glossy pamphlets heaped against his chest. The entire thing feels bizarrely insincere to Hershel, but he tries not to let how unsettled and overwhelmed he's been made to feel show.
The Professor, by some stroke of luck, managed to break off long enough to make a quick getaway. He makes his way to the nearest empty bench after some walking, and deposits the heap carefully onto one end. Hopefully, he could get back to looking for the children... does that say human flesh?
Hershel hasn't had any real chance to look at the flyers he's been given, and he'd not received much information verbally about what exactly they were supposed to be; there are even some thin paperback books littered into his pile. What he sees is practically indescribable. 60 Amazing Recipes for the Recovering Cannibal. So You're GrowingExtraLimbs. Caring For Your New Mandibles. The Full Moon And You. One in particular, Overcoming Your Fear of Thousands of Prying Eyes, strikes the Professor especially.
For another few minutes, the Professor is distracted from his search; he is seated on the bench, a heap of flimsy books and pamphlets beside him, when he sees someone pass by. You don't have any pamphlets for him, so you stand ahead of most of the others he's met. ]
Ah-- um, excuse me... [ He barely looks up from his current pamphlet, a charming thing printed with the title Resisting Human Flesh. ] I wonder if you could, perhaps, spare a moment. I have some... questions.
two [ Hershel hadn't heard of many traveling the forests. Now, he wished that he had known why before he entered. Forest flanks him, and the trees only seem to thicken as he walks. Retracing his steps has only thickened the darkness, and his prints seem lost to the paths. He weaves carefully through the walls of trees that surround him. Every step he takes, Hershel feels the trees press in tighter. Bramble and undergrowth covers the forest floor. He crunches forward through dried-out vegetation, doubles back on his steps - and, inexplicably, his broken path is lost. His nerves mount as he pushes on.
The wood looms around him, and the grey sky is blotted out by the forest canopy by the time he begins losing hope. Time is lost on Hershel, and he finds himself unaware of just how many hours he's spent walking through the wood.Sounds echo around him as the darkness deepens; not for any wildlife, no. The forest stands almost too still around him. The air seems to breathe around Hershel as he tries to find his way. Sounds echo from deeper in still. Something pulpy and rotting catches his nose, but dissipates instantly. He finds his trampled prints leading to a steep rock, one that he knows he never climbed over. Just as he thinks he's found his path, he's lead further astray. He tries to stay calm; certainly, he knows that his mind is working against him. He tries to rub the fatigue from his eyes, and he follows the footprints backward. Perhaps someone else had come through; perhaps this trail would lead to a boarder of some kind.
He comes to a dried-out, muddy riverbed, when he sees a flash of colour on the other side; a flash of red, coiled around a brambled branch. The vibrancy is enough to catch him, and as he peers through the gloom of the woods, the colour tugs something in the back of his mind. Hershel's feet are drawn forward before he realizes the draw of the flashing ribbon. He clutches at his hat and picks his way down the dried ravine and wades through ankle-deep mud. He sloshes his way back up to the other side, iciness prickling him in his shoes, and stands firmly on the river's other side. He looks at the flicker of colour and takes it in his fingers. He glides the thing through his fingers; it's a smooth stripe, torn and fringed with dried mud. He sees a young face smiling up at him as he gently unsnags the ribbon and picks it up. His stomach drops to his knees as he puts a name to the face he sees. Flora.
A lonely, silvery laugh rings from all around him as the realization comes to him, and he shudders. Flora hadn't made the Professor aware of her presence, if indeed this was hers. She needs to be found, and she needs to be found soon.
His head jerks at a sudden crunching in the dark ahead. Dried leaves, twiggy undergrowth, leaves rustling. The Professor tucks the ribbon into his pocket as gently as he can manage, and he stands. He's wordless as he grabs the closest thing he can manage to a weapon - a large rock with one prominent, jutting crag. He's learned enough to err on the side of caution; his knuckles tense as he squeezes the stone in his hand. He holds his breath as he waits, appraising the darkness closely. ]
two! if that's okay. he doesn't have to recognize her c:
[ Hospitals aren't really her scene, nor is the food she's being offered, so she ignores it all. She's got pamphlets, though--because the natives were desperate, and she just had to take something. They seemed the most useful of the lot, though she doesn't seem particularly interested in them either. It's too dark to read, and besides that--
Maybe she'd rather discover this new story for herself.
It's no surprise then that this Great Witch feels more at home in the woods rather than not--even if she does lose her way more quickly than expected. None of her Shades are at work here, no author to dictate her fate. Just her and the other lost souls who continue to wander, wondering why they came in the first place. There's a ringing laughter in her ears that she can only interpret as mocking.
With frustration, Darklaw sighs, and Hershel may notice an arc of metallic gold shine in the distance as her hand streaks across to slam into a tree.
...But she doesn't give up, and with that out of her system, she continues to walk--coming his way. ]
[Her mind is awash in confusion and anxiety. Falchion is gone, likely sunk to the bottom of the ocean, if what the villagers are saying is correct. Her last relic of her father is gone to the bottom of the ocean, and the guilt burns. Without Falchion her cause is lost. Even if she could find Her fathers group again, what would he think of his daughter having lost a blade of legend? His last gift to her?
Lucina quickly learns that while some people are wary, crossing the streets to avoid her, some are helpful.
Too helpful. To an already overwhelmed princess who hasn't had time to sit down and sort through her emotions, it's all she can really do to assuage them, reassure that No, she has no plans of eating anyone, and Thank you for your hospitality, but it is not needed.. She tries her best to reign herself in. It's only been three hours. Three hours and she's had to piece together the information she can from people who are nervous around her.
People that think she's going to suddenly eat them, for Naga's sake! There's awkward allusions to the brand in her eye, and she has to gently tell them that No, she's not a monster..
But she will protect these people from them.
Lucina finds a discarded pipe. It's no Falchion, it's not even a sword or lance, axe or bow. But it's a weapon, and it can be used in the meantime. Her mind is still in a whirl, but she goes with the first conclusion she can come to. Naga must have sent her here to protect these people from the monsters that prey upon them. She brandishes her pipe at the first one she can identify as being a monster.
No matter how innocent they seem to be in what they're doing.]
You will leave these people alone or you will answer to me!
B
[Lucina has heard all about the fog. The dangers it brings to one and all, of people losing control of their bodies and losing their minds. So they say, anyway.
It comes in faster than she expects, blanketing the town and making it almost impossible to see more than a few feet in front of her. Even if she were to try and recall the steps she had taken, there's no way she can make her way back to the Inn she had put up residence after accepting the fact that she would not be sent back home so soon.
She can't help but stop every few strides, straining her ears and eyes to make sure she isn't about to be ambushed. She has no way to truly defend herself beyond her fists, and prevention might very well be the only way to ensure her safety.
A sound echoes off the cobblestone, and she whirls to face the noise, hand instinctively gripping for where Falchion normally lay by her side. It's not there.]
Show yourself! I know you are out there!
C
[A month. Lucina has been stuck in this strange world for a month on her own, and while she's learned, learned fast and learned a lot, the threat of her actually joining the ranks of the monsters seems so... Impossible. Hers is Exalted blood, and surely that should mean something, should it not? It's what she tells herself as soreness in her muscles set in. As her legs grow heavy and her jaw and back and hips ache through out the day. It's coincidence, nothing more.
That same coincidence finds her stumbling for privacy, hugging herself and trying to rub the soreness away.
I will not fall, she tells herself stubbornly. She can't protect anyone if she too is something to be feared, a beast to be felled.
A sudden burst of of pain washes over her and she yells. It feels worse than she's ever had, worse than a spear through her shoulder or a slam from an axe. It feels like she's being torn apart from the inside.
She coughs, and blood pours out of her mouth along with teeth.
Are those hers? She wonders through pain, spitting more blood, more teeth as new ones take their place. Sharp, unforgiving. Dangerous and deadly.
[it's a wonder Severa's been able to spend a month here without encountering her commander, but isn't it just her luck that Severa's stumbling down the street now, stricken with a horrible pain in her mouth and trying to find somebody else so that if she passes out, she won't become fodder for monsters. strange, that she was able to find someone so easily—it was like she could just feel their presence.]
[her head still facing the ground, Severa spits out one tooth from her top set, then another, and hopes that the pain (and now blood) will stop soon. it's difficult to do much of anything other than keep looking down in front of her, which is when she notices a pair of boots that... certainly looks familiar. another burst of pain flashes behind her eyes.]
[one hand on her stomach (like it'll help at all), she looks up hesitantly. she speaks with a lisp, and she can feel two new teeth, longer than expected, surrounding her tongue when the word comes out.]
Waking up in a hospital bed was bizarre enough. Waking up in a hospital bed in somewhere that clearly was not anywhere in Tokyo or probably even Japan was the weirdest. Or maybe how casual everyone was about people washing up on the beach for no apparent reason looking like they'd been in a bad shipwreck.
Or maybe Neku was just a special case.
"This is probably some kinda weird dream. Maybe I should lay off the fast food for a while."
[TWO]
"Okay no. This isn't funny anymore. I'd like to leave now."
In retrospect, going into the forest wasn't the best plan. But the path going in had been straight, and he'd planned to walk in, check it out a little bit and then turn around and walk out. Clearly that hadn't worked; walking straight back had somehow led him deeper into the woods instead of towards town.
Not to mention he could swear he heard giggling. Probably some local kids hiding in the bushes, nothing to worry about, but it was getting annoying fast. Twerps.
Neku recognized the smell. Of course he did. But he couldn't for the life of him think of WHAT it was or where he can scented it before. After all, one didn't think to notice their own scent.
But it was enough to really get under his skin, and he had to follow it. Until he finally spotted his prey from a tree.
That... that was impossible, right?! Must be another monster that could change their shape or something. So the manticore dropped down right behind his double, teeth bared and wings spread. He looked very different from this doppelganger, but they were still recognizable as the same person
"What the HELL do you think you're doing?!"
Edited (I did comment box without even thinking) 2015-05-23 22:35 (UTC)
[ He'd known there would be consequences for flying off. Really, he had - when had he ever done something that went against the wishes of Vriska Serket and come away from it okay? Tavros had expected something, anything -- but waking up shivering and cold in a room full of humans was pretty solidly not one of them.
Being alive also most certainly wasn't, either.
They didn't know much about that -- no one did, really, asking about dreambubbles and games had only gotten him weird looks and placating smiles -- they just handed him what they thought he needed to know and let him go when the disquieting idea of a place made just to fix sick people had finally made him run. And Tavros, being Tavros, could not quite stop himself from pouring over them. ]
This, [ he flipped Bunnyipyips and You off to the side (and grabs it a second later because you never know when a bestiary could come in handy), sinking back against the bench and heaving a long-suffering sigh ] is pretty much just, the most unexpected, and not-good thing so far.
Except maybe, being alive, with my actual legs and, fully functioning organs. That's sort of nice.
[ Being alive had never really done him any favors - but maybe this time it wouldn't be like that. If there was no game, then seriously, where was the harm? No Vriska, either. Maybe no one else. Maybe it was just him here with all of these nice people.. and monsters, but what were the chances of running into one? There's no way he was turning into one. They were just crazy.
He wiggled his toes, looking up. Maybe they were just playng some horrible prank on him? This could, in theory, be some kind of busted dreambubble... or, maybe a dream within a dream? After all, it's not like monsters like that were really real -- okay, well, rainbow drinkers were real. But bunnyipyips? Werewolves? What even was a wolf? Definitely sounded madeup. Maybe he should ask someone else. ]
Excuse me? [ The first passerby gets a slight wave of his hand for attention. ] I just, got here? And I was wondering if, maybe, I could get some help?
2.
[ Great.
Navigating dreambubbles had been easier than this. You just had to think of where you wanted to be and there you were. No problems. He remembered spending what must have been sweeps staggering around the desert with Vriska, hunting for anything and everything left over from other people's memories. They'd been purposefully trying to be lost, and every sight of a familiar landmark had been met with frustration.
Total opposite of now. He's not even able to find his own footsteps. He'd tried.
Being lost wasn't what bothered him (though distantly he remembered that things like eating and sleeping were no longer just things you do for fun, they were vital to continued aliveness) it was the feeling of being watched. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention, each echoing squelch of his feet against mud a reminder of how open and defenseless he was. ]
Hello? Ominously giggling voices, who, I am hoping are friendly? Could you please, maybe, giggle in the direction of the exit?
[ No answer. Tavros fidgeted, twisting around and deciding to try the way he came. In the distance he sees a shape in the dark. There's a sick feeling, a moment of elation at not being alone and a thick knot of dread at what that could actually mean. ] Hello?
3. & 4.
[ And then the fog rolled in.
The woods are thick and impossible to navigate to begin with, but the added fog makes it that much worse. Tavros can't see and if that wasn't enough to panic, he starts to feel sick. A deep, soul-sucking sick - something is wrong and he knows it, but here he is still stuck in the middle of nowhere, and no matter how far he goes that's only more nothing.
He starts at a run.
Hands out in front of him, the occasional glance behind his shoulder just in case and it's one of those glances that costs him, innate bad luck catching his foot on a branch and sending him arse over teakettle. He skids across the mud, hitting what surely has to be a tree.
Well.
Up until it makes a sound. Tavros opens his mouth to apologize (ask for help, how the hell do you get out of this place?) but doesn't manage to get the words out, instead he bites down on the inside of his cheek and twists inward as some sharp, stabbing pain rips through his limbs. ]
bonus!
< adiostoreador > sO i KNOW THAT THERE ARE A LOT OF PEOPLE, wHO ARE ALSO CONFUSED, aND THAT MAYBE i SHOULD JUST, lISTEN TO WHAT PEOPLE TOLD THEM, aND, aSK A QUESTION THERE, bUT i HAVE MOSTLY BEEN WONDERING, wHY IT IS THAT THE PEOPLE HERE ARE SO NICE TO US, oR AT LEAST, aRE NICE, tO OUR FACES, aND IF MAYBE WE SHOULD DO SOMETHING NICE FOR THEM, sINCE THEY DO THAT, sO THAT MAYBE THEY WILL CONTINUE TO BE NICE, aND, nOT BURN US, oR SOMETHING HORRIBLE, a LITTLE GRATITUDE, cAN GO A LONG WAY, aND ALSO, i WAS WONDERING IF MAYBE, i COULD FIND A TAILOR, sINCE, mY HORNS ARE TOO BIG, aND I KEEP TEARING THE ONES, tHAT WEREN'T MADE FOR THEM, }:(
Edited 2015-05-23 22:28 (UTC)
Tavros your timing is so bad with that burning thing you don't even know.
[All this stuff didn't really surprise Serah. Honestly, it sounded a lot like a L'Cie, at least, at first glace. You slowly turn into a monster...but there's no control of what, or how. You can't just complete a Focus and be done. There was no happy ending, either.
But just because she's not surprised doesn't mean she's not scared. She's not terrified, of course, but the prospect of getting eaten up before she can fulfill her promise isn't an appetizing idea. She's gotten a bow, thankfully, but these monsters--her friends-- might not be slow enough or far enough for her to use it without wounding them badly.
Of course she's going to run. What else can she do? It's not a panicked run, not leisurely, but she comes to a full stop as she sees another monster trying to feed. Safe or not, she can't just let someone die on her watch. It wasn't right. Getting on one knee, Serah pulled out her bow.]
The large, hulking form that Serah has stumbled upon freezes in its tracks. Its prey --is it the hunter, or the nearby deer they had been tracking? it's hard to say-- goes forgotten. The deer spooks, and bolts, and the hunter follows. That doesn't matter, though, because he knows that voice. It's impossible, though, isn't it? It can't be--
...he stands. Turns to look at her. Of course she has a bow. Of course she's challenging a deadly monster, alone, with no backup. For a moment he's shocked into silence, staring down at her from his full height.]
Serah...
[Shock, surprise, maybe a little bit of fear. She might not recognize his voice, but those things will come through clearly.]
Everything was overwhelming, not to mention confusing. He didn't think he was supposed to be here, and he didn't know how he'd gotten here in the first place. He didn't remember anything, which, while nothing new to him, still didn't make him very happy. The natives were...strangely kind, in a way that he wasn't used to anyone being, especially not when the kindness was directed at him. In Bucky's experience, not beating him for a mistake was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him. And not killing him-the man, Steve, he'd let him live even when he shouldn't have.
These pamphlets though, now that he'd more or less escaped the natives over-enthusiastic offers, were even more strange. Were they actually supposed to be helpful? Did he really have to worry about these sort of things? Monsters. It didn't make very much sense to him; monsters were fairy tales, he knew that much. "I don't understand," he muttered under his breath in Russian, not expecting anyone to overhear.
Scenario Two
He hadn't had time to make a mental map of the woods, so that he knew where he was going. He'd still been working on it, and now...now he didn't know which way he was going. The sun was almost all the way down, and where before he didn't mind the dark because he was comfortable in the shadows, using them to hide, this place wasn't like any other he'd been in before. The dark felt unwelcoming, dangerous. Then there was that noise. It's source eluded him, made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
The harder he tried to find his way out, to get himself back on some familiar path, the more lost he felt. The worst part was feeling like he was being watched, without being able to figure out from where and by who. His nerves made him unforgivably sloppy to the point where, after he fought his way through some dense underbrush, he didn't realize there was someone real and tangible there-and not his imagination-until he'd nearly walked into them. Backing up quickly, he reached for his single weapon, a knife, though he didn't draw it, and instead kept his hand tight around the handle.
"Yeah. They really could come up with some better titles for these things."
Axe Thief Axehounds, what the hell is that? Jesus, it's no wonder some of these people are so terrified of them. The doctor flips the pamphlet over in his hand and scoffs, his attention finally turning to the stranger standing beside him.
Luckily for him, McCoy doesn't look all that monstrous. His skin's a bit pale, his eyes are a dark shade of red, there's a flash of fangs every now and then, but really, he looks almost as human as the next person.
Which is perfectly fine with him, of course. It makes conversations like this a little easier. As long as this guy speaks something other than Russian.
[The pamphlets mean nothing to him: he can't read. They're just glossy collections of images and incomprehensible markings, and he shoves them away whenever a villager tries to push one into his hands. He stumbles out of the hospital in a daze, acutely aware of two things: his greatsword was missing, and his tattoos, usually a bright, shimmering white, have turned completely black.
Fenris stands in the street, running his fingers up and down his arm. He feels no pain; no sensation at all. Whatever magic once infused these tattoos is gone.
He'd be grateful, but he's not stupid. The villagers' anxiety was palpable. Something is very wrong here.
Fenris doubles back; grabs one of the pamphlets. He accosts the first person he comes across, reaching to grab this unlucky soul by the wrist.]
You. Tell me what these say. Tell me what's happening here.
two;
[Fenris is no stranger to forests, but this is some unsettling nonsense right here. He's not sure how he ended up so turned around; he'd simply been trying to explore, get a sense of the world he's woken up to and what he can expect from it.
Nonsense, clearly.
He hears the laughter, and the sound prickles along his skin. Demons, spirits--something foul and unnatural, to be sure.
Fenris scowls as he pushes through the overgrown paths, ripping down vines with his bare hands and crushing the roots and leaf beds underfoot. He must free himself from this damned maze.
And then he hears it--not the haunting giggles, though they're still coming at odd intervals--but another set of footsteps, definite, and approaching fast.
Fenris rocks back into a defensive stance. He has no sword, but he has his fists.]
[Way to be an ass to a kid, Fenris. Whatever Rhyme was planning on doing came to a crashing halt as she was grabbed by the wrist. You should be thankful she didn't scream.
However, she's not happy and it shows.]
Let me go first. You should try using your manners if you really wanted help, you know.
ONE [ it's maybe just a little twisted that tim is grateful for all of this. sure, it's not ideal; he barely has any idea where he is, he's been pricked with needles a few times over upon waking up, and the pamphlets being insistently shoved upon him now that he's out and about are worrisome at best. but there's the chance that he's somewhere with no jack, no contract, and though that's not quite going home to his mom, it means he might just be able to have an identity of his own again.
that hope doesn't stop him from being flustered, though. he balances a basket of food offerings under one arm, holding a pamphlet in his free hand, brows furrowed as he skims through the text. ]
Eat you -- ? That's, uh, not really high on my list of priorities right now. Or even really there at all.
[ apparently it might be soon? he'd rather not think about that. let him ride out the wave of bizarre optimism, here. he's just kind of trying to get away from the crowd of locals surrounding him without being too elbow-and-shouldery. ]
TWO [ panic would be the logical response here, now that tim has realized he's hopelessly lost. something else is overriding that, though, an emotion that's much preferred: wonder. pandora and elpis don't have forests like this -- plants in general are few and far between, though not nonexistant. there are biomes for observation on helios, but it's just not the same. sure, there's a nagging feeling of unease underneath it all, but tim can't help but take the time to appreciate the sight.
he's keenly aware of the fact that he should probably make another push to head home before it gets dark, but judging from the sunlight trickling in through the canopy, he's got time. and so, he simply settles into sitting at the base of a massive tree. it's not the most comfortable thing, but -- this is a bizarrely serene moment for him, the first time in what feels like ages that he feels alone in a good way.
it is totally not his fault if he ends up nodding off and appearing dead, alright? okay. ]
[While Timmy isn't paying attention, Jack will clap one hand on each of his shoulders and grin broadly behind his mask. All it takes amis a smile from him to get a good chunk of people to back away from them.
But Jack is quick to spot a small, out of place detail the second he gets a decent glance at his doppelganger's face. It causes him to frown and try to force him to face him.]
Woah, someone's looking a little in breach of contract.
SCENARIO ONE. “Bunnyipyips and You?” This is sooooooo last year’s news! I don’t want this garbage!
[ Comes the loud voice of one Junko Enoshima, pamphlet crumpled between red-clad nails before she throws the thing onto the ground like a piece of trash. Without hesitation, she turns away from the startled local and stomps onto the papers one more time with high-heels before trudging off.
While said trudging is being carried out, Junko takes the opportunity to think on the situation. This whole thing is like some sort of cliché horror movie; waking up in a place with no recollection of how she came to be here. The concept sounds familiar and she laughs at that… how despair inducingly predictable. She's even bored at the supposed idea that she's risen from the grave! Didn't that already make her a monster, albeit a heinously cute one? She could use some better clothes though, and a maybe a brush. ]
Hey, you! Frankenstein! [ She calls at the first “monster” she spies, placing her hand on their shoulder.
Or if you’re not a monster yet, she’ll just leave the Frankenstein part out and grab your shoulder anyway. There might be the slightest pinch of her nails digging into your skin, but that could be an accident.. ]
Have any idea where a girl can find some reads that aren’t totally last season? I have no interest in Bunnybippityboppityboo.
SCENARIO TWO. [ Lost in the woods. Of course being lost in the woods has to be a thing, doesn’t that happen to everybody before something terrible happens? She’s probably about to get eaten by a flesh-eating human turned monster at any second. The thought scares her, then bores her, and now she's pissed. She's fucking bored.
With this, Junko begins to wave her arms around at the trees, acknowledging the childish laughter all around her but not addressing it directly. Probably only there for dramatic effect or whatever. ]
Hey, hey! Where’s my big bad wolf at? This little red is waiting for you to gobble her all up! Or suck my blood or whatever...
[ She snorts to herself. ] Kyaaah! Junko, that's so dirty..
[The woman Junko grabs is impeccably dressed, although her outfit is probably more to Celes's tastes than Junko's, with her lacey, frilled dress, bonnet, and delicate satin scarf.
When Junko's nails dig into her shoulder, the Doll winces, but only slightly. She doesn't say anything, though - she's quite accustomed to being mistreated by certain humans. It doesn't make her love for them, or her loyalty to them, any less strong.]
Ah. Perhaps this one, then? [She holds up a pamphlet she's found that seems to be about some kind of axe-stealing dogs.] Or would you prefer something else?
[Sorry Junko, she doesn't know what you want. Otherwise she would give it to you without hesitation.]
[ Pearl is taking waking up in a strange place with none of her loved ones around about as well as you'd might expect. Meaning: Not actually that well at all.
She spends her first few hours outside the hospital desperately searching for her family in an overwhelming panic, calling for them through the streets regardless of the stern looks the locals may be giving her for making a scene. They must be somewhere. They have to be; she already searched the hospital from top to bottom, and the possibility that she's here alone is a thought too painful to bear. ]
Steven! Garnet? Amethyst?! Where are you?!
[ Every now and then she has to stop, wrap her arms around herself and shiver unhappily, trying to make sense of everything. ]
SCENARIO 1-B
[ Eventually she returns to wait outside the hospital in the vain hopes that maybe more newcomers will turn up, and one of the other gems will be among their number. She tries to busy herself with something productive: Reading all of these pamphlets being offered to her.
...The information contained within is a bit hard to swallow, to put things mildly. 'Alternatives to Human Flesh' in particular is pretty rough to get through. The other, more questionable pamphlets make her wrinkle her nose skeptically. ]
Members of salmonidae don't have fur... Who allowed this drivel to be published? [ She holds the pamphlet a bit closer to her face, squinting. ] And for that matter who edited it? That's the third grammatical error I've found on the first page alone!
SCENARIO D
[ The first of her changes hit her particularly hard. After an absolutely dreadful stint of agonizing abdominal pain, Pearl now has a horrible sharp fanged maw set into her belly.
She's still decked out on the ground from all the horrible muscle pain, shifting of organs, and all that other good stuff that comes with the territory of having your entire physical structure rearranged without the aid of gem based shape-shifting powers. She is just regaining her senses, too.
She hasn't noticed the mouth yet, either, but it should be pretty entertaining to watch her reaction when she finally does. ]
[The only reason that Worf has not thrown piles of pamphlets to the ground in as much disgust as Pearl has been is that most of the villagers are too nervous to come close enough to hand him any, and that is because every time one of them comes near, he raises his lips in a feral snarl that bobs his well-trimmed moustache. He is neither human nor monster, though many would dispute the latter. As a proud klingon warrior and a prestigious ambassador, he makes an imposing figure drenched in ermine-white fur and polished silver chain and plate metal, arms crossed under his robes as he considers just what threat he's under.
Overhearing Pearl's diatribe, he gives a full-bodied growl of agreement.]
These humans are clearly from a superstitious, unenlightened culture. I would not recommend engaging with their paranoid delusions.
[He offers her neither name nor House, though the latter is emblazoned across the iron baldric crossed over his shoulder. Instead, he offers Pearl merely the same kind of threat-assessing, tooth-grinding stare that he has been throwing at these backwater humans all morning.]
[Another day, another world. It almost seems like some kind of sick joke, being tossed around by the whims of whatever kin the Gate has to have pulled him here. He would have known if that thing had brought him to this place, but moreover it wouldn't have been generous enough to restore his arm and leg.]
[Oddly that was the thing that disturbed him the most about this whole thing. He didn't believe the talk about turning into monsters, not yet, but feeling the pulse of blood in his hand and the pressure of each step in both feet was too novel and ominous to ignore. How had he gotten them back, after having them ripped away twice over? What sacrifice had been made that the Gate let go of that toll?]
[That was what really had Edward's attention as he wandered the streets of Vandare, refusing the offers of pamphlets and lodging without much mind to what it is the locals are actually saying. Oddly they give him a wider berth, likely due to his unusually golden eyes, but some seem a bit more...persistent than others.]
[It's not quite an altercation yet, but one innkeeper of a failing establishment has a firm hold of Ed's sleeve as he tries to convince the former alchemist to just take a room. He can stay for free, just come in and take any bed he pleases!!]
How many times do I have to say no, you crazy bastard! Let go already!!
II
[So...probably not the most intelligent decision he's ever made.]
[He'd heard rumors of the odd goings-on in these woods, the childlike giggling and missing travelers. It seemed like a decent lead, even if the locals claimed no one could figure out just what was going on in there. He'd gone on less before when he was younger, and with a pack and supplies he'd gone out for a trip.]
[His first mistake was to think that being trail-wise would keep him any safer than anyone else. Somehow on his second day in the place he'd become completely lost, turned around and feeling like something was watching him with every step he took. He could swear he'd passed by this damned tree three times now, but there were no signs of his little trail signs he'd so carefully placed. Squirrels didn't work that damn fast to fuck things up.]
[Wary and on edge, his head snaps around at any sound echoing through the trees, and he keeps a tight grip on his pack, ready to swing it in the face of any on-coming danger.]
[You'd think with so many people around it would be easy to get a meal. Unfortunately, Archer's had no luck whatsoever and he's beginning to get irritated. He's taken to hiding out in the woods and hoping to pick off any idiots who wander out here, and it looks like it's paid off.
In the time he's been here he's learned to move quietly and his transformations have helped a bit. He never did get any sort of ability to turn into mist or a bat or anything cool like that. Instead he's got bright red eyes, slightly pointed ears, and longer, sharper nails, along with the stereotypical vampire fangs, of course. Overall, Frank Archer doesn't look all that different.
He finally makes his appearance known by stepping out in front of the traveler. He did get one very useful ability - he can temporarily stun a human by maintaining eye contact with them. Something about this particular human gets him to pause though, and Archer takes a step backwards.]
Elric?
[His red eyes widen and he looks horrified. This is the last thing he was expecting. Well, okay, he wasn't expecting Edward Elric to look several years older either, but this is new.]
[Morrigan sits on a bench, overlooking the many pamphlets she's had shoved into her hands. She's collected quite a lot, and she's already tossed out all the extraneous ones that don't seem to have anything to do with anything in a pile to her side. She's looking carefully through "What To Expect When You're Expecting" when she suddenly drops her studious appearance for impatience, tossing the pamphlet onto the pile.]
This is absolute drivel. 'Tis clear they are speaking from no experience themselves. I have learned nothing.
II.
[These woods are no Korcari Wilds. Those woods she knew like the back of her hand, they whispered on the edges of her fur, felt like a caress against her many legs. They were home, and they were known to her intimately. She's generally good with direction, but this time she's grown lost.
If only she could turn into a crow, as she could before, and scout above for her location. But she has no such power here, stripped of her many talents as she is. In return she receives, what, a single monstrous form? She's still skeptical as to the change, despite hearing so many confirmations from natives and others like her. And it's hardly any consolation for losing her magic, which had been like her lifeblood all her life.
But no, she has to find her way out of this wood the normal way. The boring way. Being a mage was so much more exciting than being a potential monster. She comes round what seems to be the same tree she's seen three times now, and she's sure she's moving in circles. But she thought her path had stayed straight. She stops and sighs in exasperation.]
You will not play games with me, strange forest.
III.
[The fog comes quick as a lightning strike, it seems. She hadn't noticed it building up until she could barely see the road before her. She's heard stories of the dangers of the fog, and, no longer able to use magic as she is, she's not interested in learning of them firsthand.
But she can no longer see any landmarks, no matter how she squints through the mist around her. Which direction was she going...?]
[At this point, someone sitting around being skeptical about the pamphlets every so often is a pretty common thing to come across. So NOS does the usual when he comes across one that looks at least a little bit interesting and quietly sidles over behind them to see which one they're looking at.]
You'd think after dealing with us for so long, they'd have some idea. But no.
Of all of the strange things that had happened in David's life, washing up on an unknown shore, covered in scratches and bite marks, and being told he was going to turn into a monster was actually a new one. But panic wasn't his style, nor was it particularly productive. Sure, he seemed a bit irritated, but who wouldn't, getting fished out of the water in the middle of nowhere, covered in minor injuries? But he'd get in touch with Fox or Owen somehow, and they'd come get him. Or he'd rebuild his suit and find the nearest mainland.
For now, though, his attention was on what was immediately significant. These pamphlets were fascinating, and he hadn't been able to help taking the time to read through the descriptions of all the known monster types. If he was going to stay here, after all, he had to familiarize himself with the situation. But reading the sparse information in them was just enough to whet his curiosity. It didn't take long before he set out through town and the immediately surrounding area, hoping to find those who had already begun to transform.
If David was hoping to find a hideous, partially transmogrified monster, it would not be in Worf, no matter how the klingon might differ from one's average human. Though he was dressed impeccably in (admittedly faintly matted) ermine fur and polished steel, his hair tied back in a strict braid, and his expression very carefully hammered into a neutral passivity, he still had most of the bar to himself. Villagers had finished trying to shower him with pamphlets ages ago when he gave a bellow that had cleared a path straight down the road from the hospital. He'd grabbed one man and demanded to know where he could go to rest and, after a stammered confession, had put a halt to any of the usual activities of the place when he'd slammed open the door.
Never did he feel more out of place than when he walked among humans who had not learned to at least pay lip-service to the recently renewed alliance, and this place seemed far enough removed from Federation space that Worf had no doubt he was light-years away from Qo'noS--or Earth for that matter.
But that was neither here nor there. Here was a klingon sitting at a bar, a mug of something disappointingly sweet and fruity leaving condensation on the stained countertop. Three or four seats to either side of him remained empty, and a clear shot from the bar to the door of the building would allow David to see the polished baldric and the cloak, the man's hefty hands and, when Worf turned his head to the sound of careful muttering from those who hadn't scrambled out of the building, the proud ridges of a non-human jutting from nose and brow.
Worf exchanged a dankly angry glare with the other man, noting his similar state of faint disarray. He couldn't even say that he'd earned his own marks in battle. Though he would never admit it, the klingon was most definitely in a brooding state of disgusted self-pity and he only straightened his back when he realized he was being watched by someone who was not so quick to cower.
[Well. This is... different. Very, very different. She feels a little sick, actually, though she can't chalk it up to just sea water. This-- where even is this town? The trees seem familiar, but-- she's absolutely sure she's never been here before. It all seems like something out of a postcard. And that's before she starts running into people-- they're definitely people, that's true, but those outfits-- they're the kind you'd see in photos stored in an attic, not actually being worn. They're shoving papers into her hands. Pamphlets, it turns out.
Monsters, though? That's... it's gotta be some kind of... joke, right? Emily's unsteady as she walks, a little pale around the edges. She keeps reaching for the walkie talkie pinned to her uniform, even though every time she's tried to call in before, she just gets static.]
I think I've missed something here. Where-- where am I? Do you have... is there some kind of map?
[Easy there. One step at a time.]
[Scenario Two]
[The trees are familiar enough. Can't live in a small town like Greenvale without getting to know pine trees and poison oak, right? She tries to stick to the paths as best she can. It's proof someone else once went this way, if nothing else, and who knows what's off the beaten trail? Back home, could be bears, maybe wolves. Out here... well, who knows?
The laughter might be a pretty good clue, though. It sounds like it's coming from--- she doesn't know, everywhere. So, for the last five or so minutes, she's been circling the same patch of trees, trying to track down the phantom children. Which is about when she runs into-- well, someone else.]
Hey! [A bit jumpy.] You haven't seen any kids out here, have you? [She drops her guard a little. Whoever this person is, it's got to be better than wandering around the forest alone.]
[ Hershel's not totally unfamiliar with trees and overgrowth. He does enjoy a quiet stroll through the great outdoors once in awhile, but much of his experience with its exploration is owed to necessity.
Hence why the Professor is found clutching at the brim of his hat and picking his staggering way between trees a fair distance from the cleaner paths. Hershel had set out to follow it, of course, but he's heard the laughter, too. And he knows a certain pair of snoopy children who would love to climb around this forest... children that should be found.
He's uncatching the leg of his slacks from a particularly stubborn patch of bramble when he feels someone walk into him. ]
Oh-- [ He lets his leg down and grabs first for the brim of his tall top hat, straightening the thing on his head. There's a woman before him, uniformed. Was she employed locally, he wondered? Before he can ask, she starts questioning. She's heard the laughter, too, from the sounds of things. That brings him some small comfort... ]
Oh, dear. I am terribly sorry. [ He holds his hands up placatingly as he speaks, ] I hadn't any idea that there had been anyone else in the area.
And -- [ He almost walks over before a tug at his leg reminds him. The Professor bends over slightly and jerks the bramble from his pant leg free with a sharp rustle, before continuing his advance, giving the friendliest smile he can. ] And I would ask you the same, if I may, Miss...?
[ Well, this certainly isn't the first time the Warden has come to in a strange place. The locals are eagerly accommodating much to her pleasant surprise; of course none of her important questions have been actually answered (where her damned sword is, for one, or where the giant angry dragon went, for another) but for the time being she's content to let them remain a mystery. So long as she's having gifts of all kinds pressed on her she's more than happy to soak in the attention instead.
She's accepted the food and pamphlets in particular - eying some of the 'monster coping' subject matter with a measure of patronizing amusement that clearly declares how ridiculous she considers the whole situation - and only starts refusing things upon realizing she can't possibly carry it all by herself.
So, naturally, Cousland will set to trying to get someone to carry it for her. And by "someone" that's really any person in earshot that she can attempt boss around. So... you, probably. ]
Ah, pardon me. [ You weren't planning on doing anything important today, right? ] Could I ask for a favor? It'll be quick, I promise.
♟ THREE
[ The first tendrils of mist hadn't been given much thought from someone used to a little drizzle and cloud cover most days, but when the streets are suddenly and conspicuously cleared of other people and the shops are shut so quickly the timbers are practically splintering from the slamming force, one tends to take notice. Cousland had spent a moment or two politely knocking on doors to ask for entry and had been greeted with a resounding silence in response. Cursing in increasingly colorful language hadn't had much effect either.
Hella rude.
By now that harmless 'mist' has thickened to a fog so thick she can practically feel it resisting each step she takes. She might actually be contemplating just booting down a random door and forcing her way in, but... Well. That's a little difficult when you can't tell which way is which, let alone where the nearest building is. But being the bullheaded proud soul she is, the Warden will settle for resolutely stomping in a straight line until she either runs into a wall to follow or simply mows down another unfortunate person to grab and shake some answers out of. ]
[Hawke eyes the pamphlets--and the food, and whatever else the Warden has found herself loaded with--with the same kind of vague interest given by someone well aware that most of the pamphlets that have been shoved on the woman are, essentially, useless. Her tail sways back and forth idly behind her, wings folded up, and there are noticeable scales like a bad rash peeking out from under her collar and her sleeves.
An eyebrow goes up.] Does this favor, by any chance, involve dumping those pamphlets in the sea? Because I can think of better alternatives.
[Joan has been in many hospitals. This one... is unique even by New York standards. The technology is strangely outdated, the medical staff are somewhat over eager... and the atmosphere. The atmosphere is somewhat disquieting. Something definitely isn't right.
Joan stares in mild bemusement at the various pamphlets.]
There is no way these are actual medical literature.
B- Lager Woods:
[So, the woods. Not exactly Joan's favourite place to be, but as long as she stays calm and rational, she should be able to find her way out. And maybe find those creepy children. This definitely doesn't feel like the prelude to a grisly murder.
She turns when she hears the crunching of leaves and twigs.]
[Trey's not any happier, glancing up from one of them every so often to track any movement from the staff that's too close to the chair he's found. He doesn't even look over at first, minding the staff trumping thinking about courtesy.]
Sensationalist, inconsistent, lacking even minimal explanation... I doubt there's any research at all behind them.
[He hadn't been here quite long enough the first time for it to really stick vividly in his memory, but this is all familiar, even if none of the people he's run into are-- the town, the ocean (not remotely comforting), all of it leaves him with the distinct certainty he's been here before.
...the pamphlets, though, those are something he absolutely doesn't remember. When he finally stops dodging people long enough to accept a couple and realizes what's in them, he stops dead right where he's standing to stare at them, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose; he hardly notices he's probably getting in the way.
A lot of folks would probably be wary of this, and what it means-- but coming from a place where people don't even believe in the creatures that exist, think they're just myths? Finding out there's somewhere that people apparently try to help them is actually a welcome change (even if it's not exactly out of the goodness of their hearts, here.) It almost makes up for the abrupt loss of his extra sense, if it's true- so don't mind him accosting the next person to pass by.]
--wait, wait, so-- this is serious? This is actually a thing. [With a wave of one of those pamphlets to illustrate his meaning, one brow raised.] They're really not just... stabbing people right off the bat or something.
research time;
[Once he's been informed that no, people aren't just making all of this up... well, he's always been entirely too curious for his own good. Ryan's borrowed a notepad and pen off one of the villagers in order to take notes and gone off in search of anyone identifiable as not human, paying little mind to the fact that for the moment, he probably counts as one of the food groups. He's ridiculously tall and built roughly like a stick, he's fairly sure he doesn't look much like dinner.]
Excuse me-- hey, d'you have a minute? [To his credit, he at least respects the concept of personal space bubbles, keeping a polite enough distance.] I just- have a few questions. If that's okay, I mean.
[(Alternately, for the non-monstrous, feel free to dissuade this nerd from bothering people who might think he's lunch. Or join him in trying to sate his curiosity, you know, whatever floats your goat.)]
[Bucky's so relieved that he's not the only one to be completely and utterly baffled that he doesn't even mind someone stopping him. He's still clutching his own pamphlets, a few of them wrinkled and slightly bent or torn in his metal hand.]
I don't understand any of this. Monsters aren't even real. [He pauses for a beat, like suddenly he's not too sure about that. Waking up in a strange place with people who seem very convinced that these pamphlets are useful sort of has that effect.] Are they?
[Jade doesn't know where she is, but she's sure of one thing, there is no way this could go well. She also knows that when you arrive at a new, mysterious and decidedly creepy place, putting some distance between yourself and the hospital is a good idea. She isn't about to become the unwilling patient of some crazy nurse too fond of experimental treatments. Again.
As Jade makes her way further and further from the hospital, she becomes more and more unsettled. She keeps her distance from the locals, arms crossed across her chest as if daring them to approach her. This isn't her school, it's nowhere she's ever been before, and she half believes it's one of her weird dream again.
Could this be a dream? It had to be, that was the only somewhat reasonable explanation. Jade begins looking for a sign, something familiar to latch onto. Her dreams are always weird and disturbing, but they're never random so there must be something familiar there, she just has to find it.
Lost in this thought, Jade distractedly runs into the closest person, sending a sharp pain coursing through her elbow.]
Sorry, I didn't se--
[The collision doesn't hit her as hard as the realization that this probably isn't a dream.]
Holy shit.
[two]
[Woods really aren't Jade's thing. If several of your classmates had ended up dead in the woods after the world's most messed up version of capture the flag, they probably wouldn't be your thing either. But she has to find answers. She has to get home, even if that means venturing into the forest that practically screamed "Welcome to Murderville".
Jade decides staying on the paths is her best bet for making her way through the woods and to the other side. There had to be an end to them, right? But the path seems to be going in circles, and as all the trees began to blend together in one seemingly endless mass of forest, she begins to panic. She's come to the distressing conclusion that's she's totally and completely lost. After a moment of debate, she steps off the path, knowing it's a bad idea, but she's desperate. The only thought on her mind is getting out of the forest, any way she can.
When Jade hears the giggling, and can she mention how creepy that is, she freezes in place, looking around frantically for the source of the noise.]
[Wirt's attempt at an apology cuts off abruptly the second he hears Jade curse, one hand tugging anxiously on a furry ear as he shrinks back. Of course this would happen. He still remembers his first day here, how terrifying it was to see people so obviously changed, a living warning of everything he'd been told by the doctors. Now, he's visibly among them, his antlers and eyes marking him as one of the people he would have backed away from. Heading to the hospital feels like a mistake already, and he hasn't even managed to make it the whole way.]
Sorry. [It's quiet, nervous, like he's expecting her to run at any minute.] I'm-- it... it was probably my fault.
[This place is not Eorzea. That much is strikingly obvious. In all of Eorzea, Alphinaud has never seen buildings quite like these. The style is different, the overall environment is different, the people are different... Not a sign of a Lalafell or a Roegadyn or even another Elezen. The population seems to be entirely Hyur...
He had been in Coerthas, though. And unless his memory has been altered or lost in some way, he doesn't recall falling into the ocean, only to wash up on the shores of some strange land. In fact, from the safety and comfort of Lord Haurchefant's dwelling, there was no possible way that he could have. So how...? Even attempting to contact Tataru and the Warrior of Light via linkshell has proven impossible, as his linkpearl appears to be missing entirely. ... and his book, as well. For all he knows, his connection to the others and his link to Alisaie may very well be lying at the bottom of the sea.
His own overall appearance probably doesn't help matters. Suffice to say, white hair on a youth doesn't seem to be all that common a thing among these Hyur, and they clearly haven't seen an Elezen before. Perhaps his clothes are a bit strange, too. The welcome is hardly one of terror, however, unless they are simply so frightened that they're throwing things at him in an attempt to appease. The offers of food and board could be considered courtesy or kindness, but the subject of these leaflets leads him to believe that it's more a preemptive pacification attempt. Especially once he sees one rather bold title proclaiming the consumption of flesh.
But why would they be afraid of something like this? A brief scan through the other leaflets shows mention of turning into monsters of various types, none of which sound familiar in the slightest. Just what is going on here...? The more he looks around, though, the more he begins to notice non-"humans" that the Hyur seem to be avoiding. ... perhaps the mention of "changes" isn't too far-fetched at all.
Asking one of them may prove more useful than asking the Hyur, at least.]
[Kain's not hard to find; he's perched on one of the fountains, wings folded, ignoring the locals that're avoiding him and scanning the newcomers. It's probably a good thing that the versions of Bahamut his changes were more based on mean features that wouldn't immediately call to mind Eorzea's.]
[He seems to take note of Alphinaud's appearance quickly, hopping off the fountain to be a little less awkward.]
A/Scenario One [He'd read over all of the pamphlets once he'd gotten out of the hospital and came away... less than impressed. Even if they were just meant to be basic information, they were ridiculously sensationalist and he doubted the accuracy.]
[But if there were transformations going on, then that meant that there would have to be people that had already changed, as well as hopefully some documentation by people that had actually done something resembling research if he could find a library - so he set out across Vandare to find one or the other.]
[He's going for any monsters in town he can find around the inhabited areas, walking right up to them where the locals are giving a wide berth.]
Beg pardon, might I trouble you for a few questions?
(B / Scenario Three) [Most people were not brain damagedavoiding the fog. Trey, however, as soon as he'd seen it moving in, only stopped to grab a hunting bow and quiver of arrows he'd managed to find, heading out into the fog intentionally.]
[If the fog was something unnatural, then if there were any clues out, it'd be the best time to be out.]
[He was out moving across the town, staying close to walls and minding where there were balconies and other things that'd break up openings for aerial ambush, the bow kept cautiously in hand.]
[Most people were not part of a group that may or may not have participated in discussing getting a kiddie leash for Machina, to keep him from wandering off. However, Trey was one of those people, and his behavior had Machina wanting to follow him.]
[He let Trey get his distance- after all, he knew roughly what the blond's training entailed, and figured he could track and follow the other Cadet just fine at a healthy distance. Well... until he got frustrated.]
Trey!
[Machina's voice is a low hiss as he moves to catch up with the other Cadet.]
What in the name of the Crystal are you doing going out on your own?
Scenario 1: 'First of all, a fur bearing trout is the worst euphemism I've EVER heard..'
[Its not the first time Isabela has awoken in an unknown room, with little recollection of the night before. It is the first time she's done so without her daggers in sight. A nice looking woman is standing beside her, peering over someone in a bed adjacent, and everything smells exceptionally clean. She looks down at the crisp white sheets tucked around her, and wrinkles her nose. Soon as the woman leaves the room - she looked officious and as though she was trying to tend whoever was in the bed adjacent, so she assumes she's a healer - she's out of bed, scouring the room for anything useful. She comes across a scalpel in amidst an array of tools, and rolls her eyes as she tucks it away. Looked like the closest thing she'd have to a weapon in awhile. The sod in the bed doesn't move an inch or make a mumble as she roots through the place, which was good; no need to silence 'em.
Content that that was all to be gained, she slips from the room - she'd noted she was still wearing her thigh high boots, a habit she would avidly avoid were she the one tucking herself into the bed, making the circumstances of the entire exchange entirely odd.
To say nothing of the strange scratches and bite marks that littered up her arms and twinged in places less exposed.
Still, the soft leather of the boots is silent as she sneaks through the darkened halls of the healer's place, the architecture of the building just slightly out of place and unfamiliar. Where ever she was, it didn't seem like Kirkwall any longer.
She exits the building with a shifty look in either directions, scouring the left and the right - and nearly stumbles straight into some person standing right at the front of the door. They hurriedly shove a few pamphlets into her hands, and she's left to raise a brow as they scuttle hurriedly out of her way, waiting back in the door way for next unsuspecting victim.
She glances down at the leaflets in her hands for approximately 2 seconds, before with a derisive snorts throws them over a shoulder, sets a rhythm to her swagger and starts to whistle an old pirate drinking song.
She was going to find the nearest port, or be damned trying. ]
Scenario 2: 'Oh. Shit.'
[ She'd found the water, at least.
It was a stony little beach down by the side of the city and just past the pier. The whole town had a musky, gloomy sort of air, and fog seemed to swim round the edges of her vision. It seemed to make the air heavy and damp, in a way that sunk into her skin and clung all uncomfortable.
Her ship had been nowhere in sight (which was not entirely unexpected but still stung, just a little) and no layabout crew men or familliar pock marked faces round the docks. It seemed wherever she had ended up, she had ended up there alone and fished out of the sea, if the whispers she caught were anything to go on.
So she'd picked her way down to the shore, and stripped off her boots. You could take the pirate from the ocean, but you couldn't take the ocean from the pirate; besides there was some comfort to it. Wherever she was, the sea connected it in some far off way to where she'd come from. Not that Kirkwall had been anything but a shit hole she had been stranded in, but the people had been alright. Hawke, Merrill, Varric.. She wondered if she'd see them again. She stepped across the grainy sand, feeling the pebbles against her toes, and the cool wash of where the tide had lapped just moments before. She breathed in the salt of the sea air, the muck and debris from the ports and the boats, the sour smell of fish and whatever else whisked away as the wind caught her hair, curled against her cheeks.
She stepped into the water, just as the tide turned to surge back over the shore.
And then any thoughts of home, or Kirkwall, of Hawke was long gone.
A spasm of agony wracks through her, seeming to choke the breath out of her all at once. She stumbles, unable to help it and she falls to her knees as the water rushes around her - it can be barely higher than her shin but splashes against her, into her mouth and eyes as the pain continues. Its as though her own skin is flexing, morphing, bones feeling as if they creak and moan like the mast of an old ship. She gasps with it as the pain burns white hot against the skin of her neck - feels as though three raw cuts have been sliced into her there, on either side.
And then all at once, it stops, and she's left panting in the salt spray, soaking wet as the tide rushes out around her.
Shaking fingers reach up to where the start of her necklace is cuffed about her neck. Just over the lip of the metal, where the pain had laced down her skin, there is a slit - almost feeling rubbery and soft, like a little out cropping of.. fin? Her eyes go wide at the thought.
[Sometimes Hawke heads down to the beach. Nothing special, really, she just likes to wander on down and splash her toes around in the water for a bit, the way she once did when she was younger and Kirkwall was still new to her. That's her intention as she heads down to the beach tonight, wings folded in against her back.
But tonight, a familiar silhouette catches her eye. She sucks in a sudden breath, her eyes wide and her heart racing in her chest. Oh, Maker, no.
She's never been so self-conscious about her changes before, but now her hand wanders up to the base of the horns protruding from her skull. She'd noted the uncanny resemblance to the Arishok's horns a while ago, with some dark amusement at the irony, but now--well, what's she going to say to Isabela?
Turns out she doesn't have to. She sees Isabela's silhouette fall to its knees, and she's already getting to her feet.]
Isabela! [The shout cuts through the sound of the waves, and Hawke sprints to her side, as though to hold her through it. One clawed hand is already on its way to Isabela's shoulder, and her tail lashes frantically back and forth, betraying her worry.]
A jumpy, wide-eyed 20-something man wearing a whole lot of pink is skittering his way through the crowd, trying to get away from the locals as rapidly as possible. He takes pamphlets without looking at them, clutching the mass of papers like a shield from the people around him. The more that try to engage with him, the more he spouts out increasingly frantic lies, such as: "Nowaynowaynoway, I've never eaten meat in my life! Not even in my past lives!" and, "I'm not one of them, I've been living here since kindergarten!" and, "I don't even know what a monster is!" Watch him end up backing right into one.
[2]
And here Simon finds himself, lost in a forest where, if all those pamphlets are true, he'll either turn into or be eaten by a monster. He indulges, if only briefly, in a fantasy of all the places he could theoretically be that are not here. So many life regrets, so little time.
Of course he would run into someone now, though from the looks of them maybe he's not the only one regretting the existence of this forest at this moment in time and his vicinity within it. To his fellow wanderer, he offers an enthusiastic greeting to the tune of: "Please don't eat me!"
[Well if he backs into Apollo, he might end up being poked by the spikes on his right shoulder. They're nice and pointy, but thankfully, Apollo will jump as soon as he feels someone bumping into him, too. It's like having two bleating sheep stumble into each other!]
[ Theon is truly beyond the help of any hospital. He's already been mentally and physically scarred beyond the recognition of those who knew him before. Overwhelmed by the lights and frightened by the unfamiliar setting, he'd bolted the moment he came to.
There was a time when he'd moved swiftly, gracefully, but not anymore. Now, his broken limbs don't carry him particularly quickly or with any sort of grace, but somehow, they manage to carry him through the woods until he's hopelessly lost.
There are no familiar landmarks, and the trees that line the path are unlike those which grow in Winterfell. The air is too warm, almost sweltering in comparison. He doesn't know this place, and he doesn't know how he came to be here.
This is a dream, he tells himself, bile rising in his throat. A nightmare. They're tricking you. You're dreaming, you're still in Winterfell, you're dreaming...
A child's laughter stops him in his tracks, his eyes blown wide with fear. They're here for me. The ghosts have come for me. ]
Who's there...? Please...
[ Show yourselves, he tries to say, but the words catch him his throat. The poor man's world spins as he looks around desperately, forced to grip onto a low-hanging tree branch to steady his already unsteady feet. ]
[XL's having similar problems. None of this stuff reminds him of any of the planets he's been to, and this new body of his is human and actually gets kinda needy and tired, which is pretty inconvenient in his opinion.
He's rather irate, stomping through the place and generally making a ruckus. His attention is arrested by the sound of another person's voice, though, and so he changes direction and heads that way. Hey, if there' someone else here, maybe they know where the heck they're going?
Ah, there you are.] Hey, you! [Waving to get your attention while he approaches with big heavy steps. Not the most graceful of newly-turned-human-former-robots.]
You don't happen to know where we are, do ya? Or, uh... what's up with the spooky giggling and stuff?
[The Doll is no stranger to wondrous sights. Even from within the Hunter's Dream, from which she cannot leave, she has seen so many amazing things. She's seen, and helped, people who have committed great and terrible acts that have affected the waking world.
Still, she has never seen anything like this. She is - or was - just a doll. A doll brought to life, perhaps, but at the end of the day she was made of wood and porcelain and the stuff of dreams. Now, though... she's a human. A real human. This is something the Doll would never have expected - it was simply not her role in things.
The young(?), pale woman in the bonnet and peticoat leaves the hospital without picking up a single pamphlet. This is a new experience for her. This feeling... If it isn't quite joy, it's certainly excitement. She is worried about how her beloved Hunters are doing back home. Surely they can still dream without her, though?
Besides: something tells her that there will be plenty of Hunters here, in this place. And they may just need all the help they can get.]
Excuse me. [It's the first time she's spoken since her arrival. Almost reflexively, she brings a hand to her soft lips, confirming to herself that they are indeed moving of her own accord. It's a strange feeling, along with the sensation of her newly fleshy fingertips.] Not to bother you, but I was hoping you could confirm something for me.
I am... a human being, am I not?
Scenario Four - Wendigo
[This was something she's known was coming for some time now. As a doll, she was an tool to be used by the Hunters, unaffected by age or the blood plague that festered within Yharnam. It was a useful position to be in. The Hunters could use her without fear that she would one day wear out, and she could be safe from such things. Even the hunters, some of whom were... less than kind... could not permanently harm her within the dream. No matter what they did, she would come back new by the time they dreamed again.
But now, as a human, those things were no longer true. She could be hurt, she could age, and most importantly she could be affected by this beastial sickness that plagued the arrivals of this place.
The Doll clutches her head. She's experienced pain before - in this place and in the dream - but nothing quite like this. She clutches her head in pain as she feels her skull crack - is that her skull? it's so hard to tell when she's never actually had bones before - and a pair of antlers burst out of her head, dripping with her own pale blood. Her bonnet is torn, practically ruined, by the sudden transformation, but the Doll is distraught about so much more than that.]
No. Not like this. Please.
[She doesn't know who she's pleading to, she just wants this to stop. How can she possibly help her beloved Hunters, if she's become the sort of beast that they are meant to hunt?]
[The teenager that turns to answer looks her over quizzically; for a moment it almost seems like he might just be completely confused by the request.]
[It's a very odd question, but then, he's met beings that weren't human and while he doesn't acknowledge it out loud, was raised by one, with some occasional questions about their own status; everything looks normal, even though....]
You certainly appear to be, although I could be wrong - there are a great many things I couldn't tell simply by visual observation.
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graveyardsmash2015-05-23 05:28 pm
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