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graveyardsmash2017-11-10 09:27 pm
ryslighelpers) wrote in graveyardsmash2017-11-10 09:27 pm
Entry tags:
TDM
Welcome to the Ryslig Test Drive Meme! Below are a few prompts to get you started, but you may make up any prompt you desire! Please take a look at the navigation page for rules, setting information, and links to reserves and apps. Have fun!
SCENARIO ONE
You wake up on the beach thoroughly drenched with your mouth full of sand. The salt water causes various cuts and scrapes on your skin to sting and the sand isn't helping. The air is slightly humid, ruining any feeling of refreshment you might have gotten from your dip in the ocean. There are lights in the distance but the unfriendly scent of gunpowder fills the air. If you're lucky, you're alone. If not, you might find yourself staring up into a pair of monstrous eyes or down the barrel of a local's shotgun.SCENARIO TWO
So you've just arrived, and already some of the natives are trying to get on your good side with 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. Some of these seem to have been passed down from one monster to the next.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. Sometimes they have marks on them from previous people who had them saying they are lies, or pointing out good "jokes." Then there's the people who aren't happy to see you at all. Glares and silent, judging stares if you're lucky, torches and pitchforks attempting to drive you out of the town if you're not. You may need a friend to help you.
SCENARIO THREE
"Seek us out," the voice whispers in your head, and before you have time to question it you've found yourself in someplace entirely alien. Maybe it's the Fog God's ghostly town of Dyster, where exultant followers dance around bonfires and sing their praises to the skies above. Maybe it's the Fourth God's arcade, with small robots wheeling about amidst the lights and colors of old pinball machines. Only one thing is certain: you are not alone, in this sacred place.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? Feel free to pick any monster type for this prompt, but note that you may not get the same one in game.
Korekiyo Shinguji | New Danganronpa V3
A. Arrival.
[He's... whole again. Terribly cold, from hot to warm to cold -- on his knees, trembling in sand, his hands clawing at his face through wet wrappings, breath shuddering and catching and snagging in his lungs, the last thing he saw -- !]
Wh -- why -- !
[Feverish, feverish, abraded whispering. Rocking, slow, back heaving nothing but thin, thin flutters -- ]
Why, why, why, how -- how could she -- ! [An upward, sobbing hitch.] Why would she -- wh-why would you -- why... why, why, why, why why -- !
[A gasp in. With its draw, a finger comes trembling down his cheek to pull his mask down -- and there it is. A calm, warm voice...]
Try to be still, sweet Korekiyo. Collect yourself.
I would never abandon you. [A... gentle lilting note.] You know this!
You are frightened, but I am here.
I love you.
[Her... He's beginning to still.
She... is. She's still here, she's still here she's still here she's still here she wouldn't leave, she wouldn't -- ...
He did it all for her.
But -- ...
A choking sigh in, and out. Thin.]
O-okay...
...Okay...
[And then...
Swallows, shakes out -- ]
-- I-it -- I-I... i-it must have been... b -- because I disappointed you... Sister... I-I didn't... I didn't reach my goal. But why -- ...
Hush... I am sorry for the pain I caused you. Please... please, forgive me. But it is done. Now, you are alive again. If you wish, you can continue your work. Korekiyo... I cannot tell you how precious you are to me...
[He begins to... reach up the side of his face. Smoothing what of his hair from where it starts to come down from under his hat, down and along to the side of his face, other hand kept close to mask.
A young, slim man crouched on the beach, maintaining a whispered dialogue with himself. Steadying. Steadying...
Steadying...]
B. Pamphlets.
[Curious.
He's gotten the... essentials of what's going on here. Mutation of humans into monsters and mythological creatures - from one trial to another, it seems, and he's... already stepping up to the observation of this one with a unique intrigue. This isn't a thing one would ever think they would get to observe - there ought to be new shades and stripes of beauty, points of human nature, to be seen and highlighted here, in the contrast and on the dividing line between human and not. In coping with change that bends humanity and its boundaries...!
He's emitting a little chuckle to himself, a soft, dry-hiss "khh-hh-hh...!" as he's... been taking things in, between the greetings of the locals, taking his first notes - there's quite a bit of respect or reverence for monsters-to-be, then? Or is it more of a matter of wanting to equip them to keep out of the way quickly? - and between politely receiving greetings and supplies. It's... exciting! A whole new land and culture to discover - and a whole new lens and frame through which to view human nature, what with...
Well, again, what's afoot here.
Sifting through the items he's been passed, meanwhile, he takes a... good look at the pamphlets.
Well. Some of these seem a bit... overly-specific, don't they?
And... a twinge of wry amusement in his head.
Not especially well-researched...
He flicks his eyes over to another apparent non-local. Likely the easiest sort of person to speak to, at the moment!
And he approaches, a hand raised, a soft, polite smile on his face behind the zipper.]
Pardon me.
May I trouble you for a moment of your time?
[His voice, too, is soft. Clear and articulate, but not terribly obtrusive.
He folds his arms, eyes shutting thoughtfully. Speaking fluently.]
In my studies as an anthropologist, I have endeavored to familiarize myself intimately with many of the world's myths... folktales... legends...
[And opens them. Flicks 'em down under heavy lashes to the basket looped onto a forearm. Adjusts his hat at the brim before reaching in for one of the pamphlets.]
This includes the creatures of which they tell, and the seeds of human fear and wonder from which they've bloomed as embodiments.
[And he holds it up.]
However... my sphere of knowledge contains nothing regarding the existence of supposed "Axe Thief Axehounds".
[With a soft lifting, rippling note of amusement. A little offer of a joke, be it at his own expense or not. He wouldn't be... skeptical - that certainly does sound like fodder for a story - if it wasn't for the fact that it's a bit of a not-fit with some of the other types of creature he's caught mentioned so far. Harpies, minotaurs, werewolves...]
C. Wildcard!
[Would you like another prompt or scenario, or do you have an idea for a thread? Feel free to hit me with anything!]
B
[He can't read, but the stranger's description was all the info he needed.]
Uh... How the hell should I know? Sounds like some shit out of a B Movie to me.
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Good job, you broke him.
A.
Excuse me?
[She says it gently, because who knows where the man came from and she doesn't feel like fighting for her life on this beach. He looks... interesting.]
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HEY HEY
[Not the person he was addressing, but Kokichi pops up behind Kiyo to interrupt, grinning his liar's grin wide.]
I've seen them, you know. But of course I would have, running an evil organization means I keep all the tabs on all the hot new monsters!
YO, YO, PINOCCHIO
EEEEY
Inga | UN-GO
[ Inga doesn't really care that there is a hostile person glaring down at them. They have Bigger Problems.
Like patting themselves down with fluffy panda paw mittens, like they're looking for something. ]
Huh? Huh? Huh?
[ That goes on for a while, in various different tones of confusion. ]
2
[ Inga already is a monster... Because Inga is a demon. They are currently possessing a child's body, even, and they miss the taste of souls.
But Inga is bored so eh, let's play along. Speaking of playing though. ]
Okay! If you play with me! Let's play tag!
2!
[This girl can fly though so it's kinda unfair.]
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Joseph Joestar | JJBA
[When Joseph wakes up, it's with a headache like nothing else he's ever felt before, a salty taste in his mouth that definitely isn't the blood he remembers being there last and long strands of something slimy and wet wrapped around him like he's some kind of mummy. He blinks a few times, disorientated, and slowly but surely the dark shapes come together and he realises what he's looking at. Seaweed. Why is there seaweed in the middle of-
No. None of this is right. Not only is he soaking wet and covered in weeds, he's managed to get himself caught up in a fishing net too and every movement makes the buoys attached to it rattle like manacles. Hissing with pain, he forces himself up onto his knees to try and get a better feel for where exactly he's- as impossible as it seems given that moments before he was eating sidewalk- washed up. It doesn't help. The beach, a grey, dingy looking place compared to the brilliant blue seas they crossed before, stretches out either side of him, broken up here and there with piers and groynes until it hits the cliff-sides. Even the architecture of the buildings he can see from here doesn't look like anything he's seen on their journey- and they've seen a lot of buildings so that's definitely a cause for concern.
Something nudges against his knee: his hat. As he goes to reach for it, however, it moves again, this time flashing a glimpse of a clawed leg beneath its brim as the crab hiding underneath scuttles along. Great. So, he's totally lost and now animals are making off with his clothes.
The smart thing to do would be to wait for the weakness in his legs to die down and find someone who can help him and, in all fairness, he manages about one third of that. The second that he hears the scrape of footsteps on sand, he scrambles to his feet and staggers forward, calling out to them.
... which means that whoever it is walking past is about to be confronted by a buff 6'5" man covered in seaweed and fishing nets and stumbling like a drunk.]
What the hell is going on here-?!
ii. network
Toto, I have a feeling I'm not in Cairo anymore......
anyone want to fill me in on where the wizard is? Or when I'm going to start growing legs out of my eyeballs or whatever it says in these leaflets?
iii. wildcard
ii
If it's any comfort the legs tend to stay where they should be.
Except for nagas, I suppose.
And debatably arachnes.
And I don't know about slime people, come to think of it.
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3/3
4/3 fuck the police
god bless
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gold star for marco he tried *
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Woah, wait. Sit down, you're gonna fall like that. I'll help you get the nets off.
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ii
But it all depends on what monster you become.
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Re: Joseph Joestar | JJBA
[He is here to help though, and will offer up a faintly-pink glowing hand to the older man in concern.]
Er- You've just arrived on the Ryslig peninsula.
Zack | Angels of Death
Arrival
[What... Where the hell was he? Why is he soaked to the bone and covered in sand?]
[Where the hell is his scythe?! And where is--]
Ray?! [He coughs up some sand. He feels awful, but...] Ray, where the fuck are you?! Hello?
[Damnit, they were supposed to escape that hellhole of a building! He's not supposed to be out here all alone!]
[Out on some weird beach he does not recognize.]
WHERE THE HELL AM I?!
The Fog God's Domain
Rrrgh, what the fuck... My head...
[Damnit, he didn't need any weird voices in his head or any weird teleportation. Again.]
[This town's empty, and there are weird people dancing about and praying to some God...]
Great. I thought I was done with this God shit...
[He glares at the proceedings in front of him until he takes notice of someone who doesn't look like one of the weirdo cultists. They probably have answers, right?]
[Zack walks up to the stranger and taps them on the shoulder.]
Hey, you have any idea how to get out of this dump? It's pissing me off.
Transformation: Troll
[At this point, Zack had gone back to his old habits of living off the streets, scaping by with what he could steal. Sure, that lifestyle came with pain, but he didn't mind that much. He was used to living off garbage and fending for himself.]
[But then one day he wakes up with this itchy feeling under his skin. He tried to tough it out at first, but the itch turned to pain like something was growing under there. Cue the haphazard scratching at his arms, the gritting of teeth, the pain he tried to bear... Before his fingers started aching as well.]
Grrrr... Damnit... Why won't it stop already-
[He heard fabric ripping.]
[He brought his hand out in front of him in confusion.]
[His claws were tearing through the bandages on his hands.]
AAAAAAAAAUUUUGH!
Monster: Troll
[Whelp, Zack now has rubies growing out of his arms and claws on his hands.]
[He was not exactly sure what to make of this situation. How do people just... Live with this??
Just randomly turning into something from a B movie that has to eat people-]
[Wait. Something just occurred to him.]
... Hey, uh... Do you have to kill people to get something to eat now?
[As a serial killer, Zack's life might have gotten a whole lot easier.]
Troll! Obnoxious murderer, meet obnoxious murderer.
Lucas just so happens to be on the prowl. Hood up for some additional cover of the rising evening, lookin' to catch a mark. Isolated scents on the wind or sound of movement somewhat apart from the city crowds.
It'll be easier, of course, when the night has fully-fallen - fewer people bustling around, in general,
Even though it's prrrrobably going to be too early to pounce, heck, Lucas feels like blowing off some steam. Hunting and getting to think of getting to go for a good take-down and take-home is one way to do that.
And ughhhh, whaddyou want - his hearing's good, he's pretty sure that question was meant for him...
He wheels around, posture hunched and hands in his pockets, craning for a clear look out with narrowed red eyes under his hood, mouth just-open enough to show teeth.
... -- A kind of sneezing, wheezing single laugh into which he tips back his head.]
Kuh -- ...!
[His first assumption is that, well, it's yet another one of those squeamish types in for a rude awakening; given that he's been in an extra-bratty mood lately, 'ey, might as well prod that.
Get his kicks where he can. Make his presence felt.
His voice is on the higher end, carrying a thick Southern twang and drawl, even post-his compressing it a bit lower. Scratchier, heavier, a dragging stage-whisper.]
-- Whaddyou think...?
[Technically, you... don't. Have to. There's always food-sharing! But that's not... important to what he's going for right now.]
Obnoxious killing sprees ahoy!
There is no better killing spree!
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Fog God's Domain
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Harry Dresden | The Dresden Files
The first thing Harry notices upon regaining consciousness is that fact he’s regained consciousness. This wouldn’t be as shocking to most people, but considering the last thing he remembered was being shot and slowly falling to the cold depths of Lake Michigan, Harry had proven to himself once again that his life was far from normal. It took him a second to notice his mouth was full of sand.
“Blech, I hate sand. It’s coarse and rough and gets everywhere.”
He was definitely still Harry Dresden, never let it be said that he was one to miss the opportunity to make a Star Wars joke. It became less funny as soon as he realized he was cut and bleeding all over, salt water rushing through the open wounds, causing a sharp stinging sensation. Stepping out of the water alleviated this somewhat, but now a more pressing issue presented itself.
“Stars and stones...where am I?!”
The heavy fog made visibility an issue, only a few flickering lights were noticeable. But then he caught a whiff of something.
*Sniff*
It was unmistakably gunpowder, and the fact he knew that right away meant the scent was so strong that even his normal human senses could pick it up, didn’t bode well.
“Hells Bells. Well, I guess it’s somewhat comforting to know that wherever I end up, death and destruction are 10 steps ahead.”
----
Scenario Three
“Seek us out...”
Harry almost jumped from a standing position.
“Who the hell said that?!”
Though when he looked around, no one was standing close, granted it was still too thick to see anything around him. The voice echoed again and this time Harry immediately caught on, the voice wasn’t from anyone, it was in his head. The lights in the distance flickered again.
“I would never recommend this course of action to anyone, but in the words of men greater than me. Do as I say, not as I do. First I gotta do something about this fog.”
Harry reached for the Silver Pentacle Amulet that always hung around his neck, a gift from his mother's. It held no actual power of it’s own, but the shape it was carved in helped Harry to focus his thoughts when he needed power for a spell. He closed his eyes and focused his will into the amulet to make it glow with blue light, a common wizards trick. Then he opened his eyes.
“What?”
Nothing happened, he was just holding the amulet above his head by it thread (looking like a total idiot).
“Where’s the magic? Am I just too drunk?”
No, he wasn’t. The magic was just gone...
---
Scenario 4
Every muscle of Harry's body suddenly tightened up and he froze, then his legs buckled under some kind of pressure, and he fell on his hands and knees. He threw off his leather duster and gasped for air like he suddenly couldn’t breathe, that the clothes he was wearing were strangling him. Feeling his entire insides shift around, like they were all tenants of an apartment changing rooms as if it was rush hour. His heart and lungs were expanding out, pressing against his rib cage and constricting themselves. His digestive tract was congealing into a new shape, twisting around itself to fit into the new space with the heart and lungs.
He’d felt this sensation only once before, when he’d encountered a group of FBI were-wolves using enchanted belts to shapeshift. He’d commandeered one of the belts and used it on himself in the final confrontation with them. The difference was whereas that change was mostly him using ectoplasm to make the shell of a new body he could slip into, here his own body was breaking itself to make the changes.
He started to grow hair rapidly, everywhere, but the change was too painful for him to interject with a puberty joke. His screams of agony became lower, and more animalistic.
“AAAUHHHH...HAAAUGHHHRRROOOUUURRRR!!!”
It would’ve sounded ferocious if it didn't still sound like he was agonized screaming. The shape position of the bones was so alarming and sudden that the skin on his legs and arms began to rip open and regrow in random patterns. Bones jutting out of the skin and then sinking back into it at random, like the worst game of Whack-a-Mole, just with organs.
Then his skull began to stretch out his facial features to the point where one who wasn't screaming in pain might’ve called it abstract art. He could feel his brain being compressed and then squashed to make sure he’d survive the changes. Well, survive in the purely physical sense of the word. Harry couldn’t even think coherently at this point, it was just screams in and outside his mind.
After what felt like several straight minutes of just pain, he stood up and stumbled forward a few steps. He still had a humanoid appearance, standing on two legs but instead of his usual 6’0 stature he’d managed to grow a full foot taller. He had long streaks of thick fur on his arms, the back of his legs, and the back of his neck where a long patch of the stuff covered his entire spine, connecting all the disparate streaks. His shoes, socks, and shirt were totaled, but his sweatpants that he’d been wearing held together surprisingly well.
When he’d finally regained some composure, he shifted his head once in all directions to get a good idea of his surroundings. Suddenly he fell to the ground again, sticking his face in the dirt. He smells something, and indescribable idea came to him to follow this scent he’d caught on to, even though it was quite a ways off. The human part of Harry’s brain would been alarmed at these sensations, but it wasn’t in the driver's seat anymore. He just looked up in the direction of the scent and started into the distance with a sort of madness in his eyes. He whispered…
“Blood…”
Ohai
But when he hears the guy complaining about the loss of his magic he has to come forward.
"Harry?"
There's pure worry in his voice. If this place could take away Harry's magic there was no telling what it would do.
"I take it you haven't brought the cavalry with you."
Re: Ohai
Re: Ohai
Re: Ohai
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#1
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Harley Quinn | DC Comics (pre-52)
That's when she notices the group heading toward her with grim purpose. She scrambles to her feet and holds her hands up a broad friendly smile on her face.
"Hey, I get it! Fish are important, I just don't like 'em. No need to look so sour about it, mister. Anyone would think it was you, garglin' with the fishes! Say, any of you know where Gotham went? I think it's thataway."
[Two]
Harley's checking out the scene in Bavan, avoiding the pamphlets, browsing the shops, and asking the important questions:
"Okay, but where do you have the old timey photo booth? More importantly, do you have stocks? You know, those things you put your friends in and you take a picture or chuck pies at them or something. I don't have a camera, but c'mon, there's got be something fun around here. I wouldn't mind if it was only a hayride."
[Three] "Now this seems like a party." Harley strolls into the place as if she's entering one of Gotham's hottest night spots. She'll shrug off any invitations to actually join the ceremonies.
"I'm not that easy, sweetie. Besides, that guy tied to the pole doesn't look like he's having such a good time."
2
[Confused, Boone just shrugs.]
There are fun things. Probably. I mean, I mostly just go to the bars.
[Clearly, someone doesn't get out often.]
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[His main form is human looking right?]
night form is more furry but he still looks human mostly!
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Three
Re: Three
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2
Re: 2
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One Million Years Later...
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Felix Dawkins | Orphan Black
[It's been long enough that Felix is no longer dripping, but not so long he isn't still cold, damp, and miserable. He's in no mood for the pamphlets nor the tales being pushed at him by those who claim to know what's happening.
This is weird even by the standards he's come to expect, and for once he suspects his has nothing to do with Sarah, or even any of the other clones. He has no idea what these people are trying to pull, but he's getting more and more irritated by the minute. Maybe the poor native who tries to hand him his next leaflet doesn't deserve it, or maybe they do for trying to hand out deliberately misleading literature, but Felix sweeps his hand in a sharp motion that thwacks it directly out of their outstretched hand.]
Will you please just stay way from me? I'm soaked through, my hair is a mess, and my jeans are chafing me in places even I have never experienced. If I was fur bearing trout I can tell you I'd be far happier than I am now.
B - Transformation (slime)
[By the time the fog rolls around, Felix has learned he shouldn't expect good things. He's even seen a few of the other transformations, and their gory, clearly agonising changes have left him panicky and on edge.
Instead, what he does notice is a tingling, numbing sensation in his left arm. It isn't pleasant exactly, but it isn't painful either, more akin to pins and needles than anything else. He almost thinks it's his imagination until he looks, and sees a globby, gelatinous mass where his hand used to be. It's clear, and so easy to see the last signs of his bones as they dissolve into nothingness. The shoulder of his jacket is beginning to sag on one side, and then there is a sharp pain, like something digging its way into his new flesh.
Then it all seems to stop. He hisses, feeling over the fabric to find there is in fact a bump of something solid buried partway into his back. It isn't is spine, though parts of that still seem to exist. His torso seems to be halfway human, halfway waterbed.
Thankfully, his face is so far untouched. He can tell without investigating just from the differences in feeling from the parts of him that have changed to the parts that remain blessedly human. Even so, he confirms this to himself by patting his face tentatively with his remaining human hand.
His left arm doesn't even have a hand any longer. It appears to be a shapeless lump, like wet, limp plastic. Feeling sick to look at it, Felix reaches out a nervous hand despite himself. He recoils from the cold, sticky wetness immediately with a disgusted yell.]
Urgh! Disgusting.
[Even pulling away hasn't spared him. A silvery residue clings to his fingers, something he frantically starts trying to wipe away on his jeans with an expression that says he very much feels like being sick.]
B.
Here, I think you need this more than me.
[Nailed it.]
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Ouma Kokichi | New Dangan Ronpa V3
Bunyips? Axehounds? What's next, some kinda digital monster? Bo-oring, there's gotta be some cooler monsters in all this junk! [He might be grabbing pamphlet after pamphlet, wastefully tossing them over his shoulder with no regard for anyone they might fly into.]
Let me tell you, if you wanna hear something REALLY scary, I've seen colossal giants, stripped of all their flesh, gaping mouths, and iiitty bitty leaves to cover the only thing not big about them, nee-heehee!
[He is super lying/making a bad reference, but the natives sure seem shook]
[Scenario Four: Gargoyle]
[Yeah, this whole monster thing is super not his ideal. Suuure the wings and tail and fucking fire breathing is sweet as hell, but the cannibalism? Gross gross. Not to mention, Kokichi's got some strong opinions on monsters' ways of surviving. He wrinkles his nose at the thought.]
Yeeeah, okay this? Not happening. Guess I've gotta go with plan B.
[A guy has to eat, right? But that doesn't mean he has to get his hands dirty. So maybe someone might stumble across a little purple dragon guy putting on his best act. Maybe it's puppy dog eyes, or he's swooning dramatically like he's going to faint, whatever it takes to get your attention.]
Oh nooo~! How could someone as little and meek as me possibly hunt on their own? Just thinking about attacking any of those poor defenseless humans, i-it's too much! What do I dooo?
[ooc: no worries of spoilers unless you're a castmate!]
I'm good with spoilers. Also, cute journal name.
[But this dragon kid was starting to get real annoying. Zack scowls at the kid and snarks.]
Gee, I don't know. How about you go mooch off someone else, ya freeloader?!
thank u!!
The best brat. :)
1/2
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two!
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yomiel | ghost trick: phantom detective
[ The first thing Yomiel realized was that he was laying on his back. He didn't remember how he got on that position. The last thing he remembered was possessing Kamilla, pointing the gun at Lynne. He was so close to being able to fulfill what he wanted most, and yet...
He was on the beach. There was no way the submarine was anywhere near a beach, nor could he have possessed his own body without him realizing. So, what...?
He sat up slowly, sand and water dripping from his ruined hair do. He grumbled, pushing it out of his eyes as he looked around, searching for any cores that he could --
Wait a second. There was nothing. He stood up with a start, looking around. There was nothing nearby he could sense; not even his own body, nor the meteorite that was lodged in his body that gave him the source of his powers. ]
What...?
[ He looks down at his hands, flexing them. Was he... alive again? ]
b. | pamphlets
[ This was some of the weirdest stuff Yomiel had ever experienced or read. And he's not necessarily had an ordinary life. Or death. He's thumbing through some of these meaty pamphlets, scratching his cheek as he skims the content. Furry fish? Dogs with axes? Was this for real? He's seen a lot of strange monsters just in the short time that he's been here, but... he's not turning into that, is he? ]
I can't make heads or tails of this. You don't think this stuff is for real, do you?
[ He's turned to ask you, holding up these pamphlets. Seems like something you'd see in an outlandish tabloid, really. ]
c. | wildcard
B.
How dare he come into HIS house with even bigger hair than him. ...Granted, the house is more like...an entire planet...and it's not really his per se, but he was here first, dammit! That has to count for something.
So Dandy's a little more off-putting than usual when a pamphlet gets waved in his face, and it's definitely not because he feels threatened or anything.]
Not a lick of it...
[Says the growling fish man.]
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Casey Brinke | Doom Patrol
[She'd like to get used to her life for once before getting curved again. Like now! She had come to terms with her recently-revealed past and a slew of weirdness before currently flopping on land like a trout, sand directly in her mouth.
She coughed, rising to dust off her outfit. Well, this was just another weird thing she'd just have to deal with right?]
Ugh...guess this isn't as bad as well, everything else.
[But god she's so thirsty. --Hold that thought, it turns out she turned her head right in the path of a shotgun-weilding local.]
Hey can I at least explain?! I don't even know how I got here!
B. A Voice
["Seek us out".
The voice made her pop out of bed, like waking from a dream about a long-missing cat. It sounded so strange, an alluring strangeness that made her compelled to come to Dyster.
She had a feeling, just a feeling it may be someone she knew...]
Danny? Danny did you follow me here?
[She got no response, just...robots? A good potential lead, right?]
Ok, ok, I get it now...Cliff? No?
[She tapped a few robot shoulders asking for Cliff before being ultimately turned away. She continued anyhow...someone knew she was here, they had to.
For the moment at least she had an arcade. God, she missed those. She eyed around, despite that ever-present feeling of a someone-ness with her.]
...might as well since I'm here.
[Who knows, she might get a good high score on this arcade game.]
C. Wildcard
[The sky's the limit with imaaaginaaaation.]
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"But if I see your friends I'll tell 'em you're looking."
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Oscar | Lupin The 3rd | GUESS WHO'S BACK, BACK AGAIN
[Oscar doesn't know if it's a really bad case of deja-vu or that he's been in the exact same place once. There's him being on the shore of a beach, saltwater seeping into his bones, adds extra sting to the cuts and scrapes on his skin. His brain still refuses to be silent and peaceful, it's still chattering, still filled with dark echoes of 'dolls', the shadows that truly never go away and the hideousness of humanity. A betrayal that still hurts to the very center of his heart, an anger, a vengefulness that has no limit and doesn't suffer anyone.
It overflows like a river of acid...
The smell of humidity of gunpowder... everything is just too vivid to be another eerie dream and too familiar to dismiss as mere deja-vu.
So Oscar slowly gets up and slowly trudges toward the city once again, cautious but still knowing.]
02: PAMPHLETS i know what i've done/but tell me what did i miss
[Once he gets to the town, the native react in much the same way as they did last time. Some still look at him with fear and awe, others glare daggers at him and scream threats at him... he can't really blame them, knowing what he knows now and what he'll turn into. (He's still a bit unnerved by it, but he thinks he's better equipped now. He thinks he hasn't eaten any people... not yet at least.)
The pamphlets still come in stacks to his shelter, some familiar, others not so much. He reads them closely this time, silently quieting his mind so he can focus.
If he spots a person with a certain pamphlet, he offers them this advice:]
Axe Thief Axehounds is bullshit. It's too ridiculous to take seriously in my opinion.
[But who knows, they could actually exist.]
03: NETWORK and i still don’t know why it’s happening/(stop while it’s not too late)/and i still don’t know
I do wonder... if you leave this place and return, will you become something else?
04: WILDCARD
[Got a prompt that isn't featured here? Hit me up my dude!]
<novoselic>
Apparently, I was here once before as a vampire; since my arrival (return?), I've become a kelpie.
However, I do not remember any of the time that I was here before. I would not have believed it had I not seen pictures of myself.
It's a very strange, disassociating feeling, to say the least.
Were you here before?
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2!
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Aramat Drawdes | Alabaster | PASH'S BACK, TELL A FRIEND
['They' told her to seek them out. 'They' meaning the voice in her head of course. Normally that voice isn't to be listened to. It often leads to more complicated things and trouble. Misbehaving is fine, but one should be careful about it. Still, she follows the voice to wherever it goes. (This place has made her a bit... curious she admits.)
Eventually she ends up in a small, ghostly town filled with fog and celebration. They are rather... scandalous, like one of the creatures from her own world took over a town and made the townspeople their source of worship and freed all inhibitions from them.
...She's not joining in, at least right now. Aramat is merely content to watch the wild revelry of the town of Dyster.]
04: TRANSFORMATION which only means that when it's dark outside have to run and hide, can't look behind me
It's-it's happening...
[They kept telling her the change would be painful, but oh, oh they did not warn her enough about it. She always said that she loved nature, and if possible she wanted to become one with the plants... but she didn't mean it like this. Never like this...
She couldn't move, couldn't even speak, the pain froze her on the floor.
Her veins, her arteries, her very nerves are on fire with pain, growing in, filling in her blood with poison. The whites of her eyes turning green, the hazel in her irises becoming a full leafy green. Her very nails becoming branches, waxy tough leaves painfully growing in... but it was the small budding flower that confirmed it: a white little oleander.]
05: NETWORK in conversation she spoke just like a baroness
[This communicator is rather confusing and why bother texting out such a question when you can say it plainly out loud? It's not like humans have access to any of this.]
For those settled in: humans. You prefer them cooked or do you eat them raw and screaming? I'm familiar with the more civilized take, but I hear there's excitement in the latter.
06: WILDCARD
[Got a prompt that isn't featured here you want to play with mine? Go ahead and do the thing!]
3!
He showed up here this time around with having a bone to pick in mind.
And yet - he's still got a part of his mind hard-set on pickin' that bone. A superheated stone...
That's winding up wrapped in the cloth of the smells of Dyster. Blood, ash, and fire. The sounds of it - screaming, laughing; the looks he's getting...
It's all combining into a minor sedative, as it were. Getting him slowing his roll. Unconsciously leaning on back into the degree of cooldown to the vibration of fight-fight-fight that brought him in today. Patrolling it like he's taking a sanity detour down an old favorite road.
And... that appears to be a human - not one o' the natives, probably; if she was, then why would anyone not be taking part in the ongoing party - nah...
Newbie, probably!
And with his attention pinned, ha...
Let's, as a veteran monster, see how this here stranger's enjoying her little tourist trip...
He heads over. Slouching. Fingers in beltloops - it's only in Dyster that he consistently wears his hood down; catches the local monster fans' favor all the quicker. No obscuring of his ears or his eyes, especially considering that he hasn't been consistently stimulated enough for them to be, likewise, consistently bright lately.
Carefully. Just-stalking.
Whether she catches on or not, it'll be behind her shoulder that he flashes a hard, crescent-moon, teeth-displayed grin and husks out, quick and just-as-hard:]
-- Hell of a town, ain't it.
[It ends with a slight clip at a flat point.
But he puts a little extra boost and round inflection into his voice as he lets his head lift and then sink slightly, cocked, a somewhat-slowed-down birdlike movement, brow raised.]
You havin' a fun tour, ma'aaaam?
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Pagan Min | Far Cry 4
How quaint. I was so worried I'd found myself in another backwards place that did ridiculous things in pursuit of their superstitions. Aren't I lucky.
[Pagan sounds cruelly annoyed, tapping a rolled up brochure against the palm of his hand as he glares down a tied up man, back flush against the tree he's bound to and ropes done so firm they're rubbing his wrists raw. The hatchet he came at him with? Pagan nudges with his foot, face twisting up with disdain. That shows you how it goes. Assassination attempts can happen anywhere. Kyrat. Hong Kong. Strange magical places you never asked to be brought to. That sort of thing.]
I do appreciate the desperate attempts to salvage your lives, though. Survival is to be admired. I can't really blame you. To be honest, I'm not eager to try and eat you when that eventually rolls around. So this will be your death the old-fashioned way.
[Pagan picks up the hatchet, rears back, and starts violently striking his would be assassin. Not a little. But until blood is spurting from him, pouring, and the twitching has stopped.]
[Pagan looks at the bottom of one foot. Then the other. Again. Blood. On footwear meant for a king.] Fuck. [He hisses, looking at the red streak along the bottom. He's deep in the woods, not really expecting anyone to be around. So might as well complain to what he incorrectly supposes is noone.]
SCENARIO FOUR: Wendigo
What am I supposed to do with this? I'm sure some Golden Path member would be delighted to mount my head and be put on the cover of Kyrat Fashion Week. But as it is, it's simply inconvenient.
[Pagan stands in front of a glass window, watching his reflection as he fusses with how his hair lays between a set of dramatic antlers, bold as a white tailed deer.]
Damn it all. Button up shirts forever it is for me then. Unless these things fall off seasonally or I can trim them. Considering how fast they grew in, that seems daunting. I can't bother with that every night.
[He backs away from his own image, looking at the person he's speaking to.] Please tell me there is some tailor here friendly enough to account for these changes. I won't be smiling for photographs or entertaining any itches for a while, so I'd at least like to look tidy.
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The hell do you think you're doing?
[The 8'3'' werebear looms over Pagan, eyes darting between him and his victim. He's not too worried about the hatchet. He's stronger than a human could ever be, and a simple hatchet wouldn't be enough to kill him.]
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Esmeralda - Hunchback of Notre Dame
Esmeralda blinked her way back to existence, and slowly sat up. The grit stuck on her skin was unfamiliar, the water, much wider than the Seine, peculiar. Esmeralda blinked and combed her long, dark hair out of her face. What had happened? Where was she? This was nowhere in Paris, nor like anywhere else she had travelled to. Carefully, she stood up, her bare feet sinking into the sand.
"Hello?" she called cautiously as her nostrils caught the acrid scent of the gunpowder. "Is anybody - oh!" And she gasped and fell silent as she caught sight of movement.
2. Leaflets
Esmeralda was, unfortunately, illiterate. At least, Esmeralda was illiterate in the conventional sense. What Esmeralda could do was read maps, pictures and symbols. On the other hand, one did not have to have experience in interpreting pictures to understand the leaflets that had been pushed into Esmeralda's hands as she had hesitantly wandered through the town centre. This place was peculiar, there was no doubt about it.
Finding a quiet corner, Esmeralda sat down on the floor to look properly at the leaflets.
"Poor thing," she murmured as she looked at the monstrous pictures. The sound of footsteps had Esmeralda looking up, and in a flash, she had scrambled up a small wall and stood with her back pressed firmly to the stone building behind. Her leaflets lay scattered on the floor below, and Esmeralda sighed. For now though, a more important thought pressed her - had she been seen?
Leaflets scattered through the wind
So he roamed the gritty streets, hands in his pockets, not giving a damn about what those assholes thought of him... When he heard a fluttering of paper sheets in front of him.
Looking up from his boots, he only caught a glimpse of pamphlets falling to the ground like molted feathers.
"Huh...?" Zack glanced around his peripheral vision, but he didn't think to look up. So he found nobody.
So he looks down. He kneels to pick up one of the pamphlets and examine it himself. Turns out, Zack also can't read. But the pamphlet he happened to grab had the picture of a fur-covered fish on it, much to his confusion.
"... The hell was that?"
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Laura Palmer | Twin Peaks
[The taste of salt in her mouth is an unfamiliar one. Laura's been to many places in her life (and afterlife), but the ocean was never one of them. The stinging in her newfound cuts registers second to the taste of ocean water, but it's this second sensation that affects her the most profoundly. This physical pain, however small, reveals to her that she's alive. Alive after twenty-five years of being dead...
Wait. That's what she remembers becoming of her, yes, but it's not all she remembers. The conflicting memories colliding in her skull--those hurt worse than the cuts and scrapes. Laura Palmer was murdered, wrapped in plastic, and yet Laura Palmer was never murdered. Instead she went missing--and what became of her in that time? An enormous nothing like a sucking wound in her mind. Nonexistence, maybe? Instead there was Carrie Page, someone her but not-her. A reflection of that final lost diary page, transplanted to Odessa, Texas through the efforts of something great and terrible. A life that had never really been hers rattling around in her soul until the moment she was taken to her family's (former) home, when Laura's own memories and self came crashing back like a wave and the world was swallowed by darkness. She'd screamed, then, remembering what had been done to her.
It's looking at her hand now, fingers splayed against the wet sand--that smooth, soft hand of a girl still seventeen, not the middle aged, hard-living waitress that was Carrie--that she sucks in a lungful of humid air and screams again at the top of her lungs. Where is she, who is she, WHEN is she...?!]
[scenario 3 - seek us out (sort of)]
[This is a world without her father and the force within him, and that's reason enough for the relief that's seeped into Laura's heart and bones. It's even, perhaps, without whatever looming shadow had locked her up in the existence of Carrie Page. No lodges, black or white. She doesn't need to fear being displaced again. Her body and her mind are her own for the first time in her overly complicated existence.
...Except for that voice. A new voice, belonging not to BOB nor any of the other metaphysical beings she's encountered before. This is a new one, and it's telling her to seek someone.
Fuck that. Like hell she will. Instead she stays right where she is, arms crossed tight to her chest and muttering desperately.]
You're not real. You're not. I'm imagining you, so you have to leave when I stop believing...
[It's an old and futile chant, one that had never stopped BOB. She knows it won't stop whatever this is, either, but what the hell else can she do?]
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Oh f---Heeey! You're alive! That's---yeah, that's a relief. I'm thrilled.
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Nakigitsune | Touken Ranbu
[He wakes to wet clothes, the taste of sand, and the ache of lightly salted injuries. More importantly: where is his sword? Or his fox?
The pressing lack of those two things overrides any of his other immediate issues, and he quickly scrambles up from his position in the sand. Where is this? Did he get sent here by accident? Is that even possible? He'd been back at the citadel, he remembers, helping with the usual chores, when....
...No, how he got here isn't important right now, what's important right now is figuring out what happened to himself and his fox. Maybe they're buried in the sand somewhere? Or farther down the shore?]
Fox? [He calls out, but the only answer he gets is the sound of waves against the shore, and...
The sound of footsteps prompts him to turn, hoping to see a familiar face. But today's not a very lucky day, is it?]
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[The people in town seem much friendlier than those on the beach, for the most part - offering more food and pamphlets and things than he can hold, for reasons he's yet to figure out. But the pamphlets...."Alternatives to Human Flesh"? Do people eat humans here? Admittedly he's seen a good number of inhuman creatures around by this point, but....he flips curiously through another pamphlet, occasionally glancing around from his position against the wall of a nearby building, as if hoping something familiar will pop up - or if not, at least maybe one of these "bunyipyips" might show up? The information seems strange, but. Plausible, maybe.
Still, with all these unfamiliar creatures around, and strange buildings and strange scenery and strange everything else, he can't help staring. Especially at the people. Like that fishman! (potentially a fur-bearing trout?) And that lady at the snack cart! (just look at those clothes!) And you, whoever you might be!
If anyone looks fox-like he might actually start following them, too...]
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[wildcard!]
1!
And with just as little idea what on earth's happened and where she is, when she wakes up from a lack of consciousness (assumption that Evie knocked me out; she knew I was trying to escape again, and she blacked me out) and pushes herself up onto hands and knees, gasping at the temperature - it's summer, rainy season in the bayou, when did it get so cold -- ! - and blinking, huge-eyed at the open ocean.
Flinches at the sound of a gunshot, before...
Staggering to her feet, reeling a bit for balance, don't get disoriented, now, there's -- gotta be a reason, gotta be a reason you're so far from home all of a sudden, but how would Eveline have allowed it, is she gone -- and --
She hears a human voice!
Hits her in the back like a bolt - strikes her freezing...
She... tentatively approaches, at first - arms crossing to wrap for some superficial warmth; she's not... exactly dressed for cold, taking steady steps, keeping her head down, big ol' blue eyes extra huge and barely blinking, scanning for signs of trouble...
...Starts dispensing with some of the pussyfooting -
And when the fellow on the beach turns to face her, she swallows down a shiver -- ]
Mm --
Where am I -- ?!
[Her voice is both quavering and a bit heated up through the cold with audible vibrations of cold and staved at bay panic.]
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Reika Rikudou | Fate/Apocrypha
A. Arrival
[The sting of salt getting into in the old wounds on her stomach and arm is what wakes up Reika out of her daze. There's new scrapes, apparently, yet it's the one on her belly that gets her attention the most. Her short dress clings to her body as she gets to her knees.
Was this one of those dreams again? A glance at her surroundings told her 'no'. This wasn't London. Even the stink wasn't the same as that hell... Ah. That was a pain. Maybe it was just an illusion by one of those enemy magi. Reika didn't know what they could do, after all. It was possible and yet--]
What a pain.
[It's said with little emotion as she stands up. There was no reason to get upset, after all. What was the point in getting angry over things you couldn't possibly change? Reika was going to leave it at that when she looked down at her hand.
There was only three Command Seals on her hand. The third had been erased, leaving only faint lines as if someone had rubbed it out. Reika suddenly swallows. Her expression of vague annoyance doesn't change but that makes her look up and down the length of the beach.
If she had been alone when she showed up here then that was it. She probably made some miscalculation but she wasn't. Even if Jack had been injured... Reika forces herself to move along the beach.]
Jack! Jack, can you hear me?
[Why wasn't the Command Seals responding? Could she have only use one to bring her Servant to her? Jack hadn't said anything like that. Oh, this surely was a pain. She really had to find Jack before those magi did.]
B. Network
[Hello, network. There's currently an anonymous posting that simply reads:]
I'm looking into mysterious deaths, not related to all this monster business. That is, has anyone been found with a missing heart lately?
C. The Fog God's Domain
[One might say this is a kind of hell. People throwing themselves around a bonfire with joy. An empty, desolate town.
Reika watches all of this with a wry smile. She's heard about the conflict between the gods. It was this spat that separated her from her child, after all. Both had to be destroyed but she didn't hate either. That was futile. The exuberance of the worshipers was just as futile.
Yet, maybe that's why she was brought here. Fog never held any terror to her, even with all of it's dangers. Those dwelling here never really experience the terrible choking mist that would poison anyone who breathed it in nor the one who stalked in it. No, Reika Rikudou never could fear the Fog God.
Instead she stands in front of the bonfires and close her eyes.]
Maybe if it were quieter it would be peaceful here. I could think of worse places...
D. Wildcard
[Throw an idea at me and we'll work something out.]