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:
Test drive meme threads can be used for your roleplay sample!
Sample scenarios:
SCENARIO ONE: You've just been released from the hospital in Vandare and no one really seems to know what to do with you. The locals offer polite advice but don't seem to want to spend a lot of time with you. You and the other new arrivals stick out like sore thumbs, so perhaps one will spot you wandering about town.
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.
SCENARIO THREE: 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.
As Loki raged against the native humans, a set of yellow eyes watched him lament his fate. When his tantrum brought him closer to the forest, a gruff hiss met him there.
"What's wrong? Upset you can't bully the locals into doing what you want?"
For all intents and purposes, the voice was coming from a monster that bore Agent Barton's face. He stood tall on a massive snake's tail, though he still clung to the limited modesty gained by a shirt and jacket. His arms crossed over his chest, unable to keep himself from a menacing hiss between words.
"Sending you here while I'm this hungry is just about the nicest thing this place's done for me yet."
Stunned by the creature before him, Loki failed to promptly respond. What in all the realms was Barton's top half doing on a serpent? Seriously. What the fuck happened while he was in prison?
Questions he was sure Barton wouldn't indulge. His body had tensed the second he'd heard Barton's voice, but if it were possible to become even more rigid, then the sight of Barton had accomplished just that. The hand at his side slinks behind him, seeking the comfort of his dagger.
"Agent Barton," he finally greeted, maintaining a neutral tone that impressively did not convey the degree of alarm and what-the-fuckery running through his veins. "Fancying a change of pace?"
"Call it natural selection," he quipped, slitted eyes staring directly into the demigod's. It was a bestial challenge, a dare to fully witness the thing he had become. "And maybe it's just better for everyone if I just have you for lunch and call it a day. Think of all the suffering we'll be sparing the villagers over there."
He bared his fangs, visibly salivating.
"Got any last words before you start working your way down my throat?" At least,that's how Clint figured he was supposed to eat now. Snakes unhingee their jaws and stuff, right? This was all still so bizarre, but he wasn't about to show weakness in front of someone like Loki.
His lips curled in disgust. He wasn't even concerned with the method of his consumption; the very notion of being eaten was revolting.
To make matters worse, the hand slinking for his dagger touched upon nothing but air and leather. A twitch in his brow was all the reaction he gave, but inside, his stomach twisted with apprehension. He was left with nothing but technique and mortal strength to fend off this mutated version of Barton.
And, of course, his tongue.
Not very encouraging when his opponent knew he was a lying asshole.
"I take it Thor hasn't informed you," he said, a sliver of caution slipping into his voice. He had to try.
Edited (forgot about the no weapons upon arrival. my bad!) 2014-07-07 09:47 (UTC)
"Nope. Haven't seen the guy since that time you crawled up in my brain and made me into your pet."
Clint took the moment to advance, closing some of the gap between them. As much as his body instructed him to abandon caution and go in to bite, his eyes flickered to Loki's hand in his pocket. Probably something magical.
"And keep your hands where I can see them. You're gonna die like a man, understood?"
When Barton advanced, Loki automatically took a step back in an effort to maintain some of the distance between them. Even with trepidation accelerating his heartbeat, he still had room to hate. This was, perhaps, one of the greatest slaps to the face the universe had ever dealt him, reducing him to the status of those he had belittled and attempted to subjugate after he had finally obtained a throne -- a hearty, remorseless "fuck you."
He deserved it. He hated it.
Slowly, so as to not appear like he might try something, he lifted both hands up to chest-level in a universal sign of surrender. "If you care at all about maintaining your alliance with him, you may want to hold off on revenge. I wager he wouldn't be pleased to hear that I've died -- again."
"That's the funny thing," he remarked, advancing closer still. He moved as though herding sheep, working around Loki to guide him deeper into the forest. "This place is a whole lot more messed up than anything your brother could do."
Reflexively, his forked tongue flicked out to sniff the air between them, interrupting his speech.
"And the way I see it, I'm not going to be able to stop myself from eating someone for a whole lot longer. It's better you than someone innocent." The only strangeness was the way Loki looked to his altered vision. He could tell the townspeople by their heat signatures now, a visual version of the way a well-cooked steak used to smell. Loki lacked it. It was almost as if--
The sight of Barton's forked, elongated tongue repulsed Loki not because on the merits of his tongue alone, but the fact that it was now his tongue. He hadn't any proof, but Loki hazarded to guess that 'natural selection' had very little to do with Barton's transformation.
Had it been voluntary? Given Barton's earlier remark -- 'just about the nicest thing this place's done for me yet', Loki was inclined to believe not. For what purpose had he been abducted? To turn into this serpentine bastardization of himself?
What did it mean for Loki?
Well, it meant he was about to become a meal if he failed to escape Barton's attention -- and Barton was doing a good job of securing that failure, herding Loki further into the woods. Loki knew his objective, but hadn't much options available to him. Allowing Barton to pressure him deeper gravely diminished his chance of survival.
He had to make a break for it.
"Excuse me?" he asked, brow arching. So Barton could read body temperatures... and apparently his own was 'wrong'? His heritage couldn't be the reason...
He waited for his answer, intending to dart mid-sentence.
Clint had been feeling like he was on the low end of an invisible countdown. Ever since that horrifying moment when his legs bonded together, he'd been growing steadily more ravenous. Food wasn't tasting right, until solids proved themselves thoroughly indigestible. And now, after wasting time for so long indulging petty emotion, instinct took over.
He hissed instead of replying verbally, lunging forward with his fangs bared and claws extended. He needed it, needed to grip the man in front of him and bite down until fangs met flesh. It felt horrifying,but there was no way to keep the urge at bay.
At least it was someone who deserved it.
What Clint wasn't equipped to consider was that, provided that Loki didn't simply flee, a bite wouldn't mean instant death. His feeding was cursed to be a slow process, limited to the time it took for his venomto take hold. Either way, he'd soon be sorely disappointed.
The hiss was enough of a reply to kick Loki into action. He made to swivel out of Barton's lunge, but the creature's speed was greater than what Loki anticipated. He was caught in his side, claws tearing through his leather armor and leaving ugly, red gashes in their wake. This degree of pain, made possible by his reduction to human status, was not something Loki had experienced in a while.
He didn't take it well.
Sucking in a sharp breath between clenched teeth, he clutched his side and stumbled forward, but ran nonetheless. His pace, however, was negatively affected by his wound. Barton would have no issue landing a second blow.
By then, Clint's awareness was wholly limited to instinct. They were but predator and prey now, the murderous and the soon-to-be murdered. His tail whipped sharply, body twisting forward to snap at Loki's ankles as the rest of him took the time to catch up. He half-snared, half-tackled Loki next, coiling around him twice before descending down to bite down upon the open wound.
Loki hit the ground audibly, fallen leaves and twigs crunching beneath his weight. The impact knocked the breath out of him, involuntarily expelled with a rough grunt. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, propelling him to crawl his way back up, but the serpentine part of Barton denied him escape.
Then he was bit. His face twisted in agony; a hoarse cry escaped his throat. His fingers dug into the woodland debris in an immediate, desperate attempt to reroute the pain searing in his side. Just as quickly, he twisted and swung a fist at Barton's head. Regardless of whether it landed or not, he swung another and another, pummeling Barton in a last ditch effort to survive -- but ignorant to the futility in trying.
His racing heart facilitated the swift spread of the venom through his blood vessels. Irony was a cruel.
Clint's body continued to guide the way. Blood pooled up from the wound, and that itself tasted like an appetizer. He found himself grunting and adjusting his arms, trying to force Loki to bleed faster, to get to the good stuff. It wasn't until the pounding started that he blinked slowly, fangs pulling away.
"What the hell have I been doing?"
He wasn't apologetic to Loki in the slightest, but the monstrosity in the moment struck him. His tail coiled a bit tighter, as Clint himself was indifferent to whether he broke bones. But even now, there was the pressure to avoid admitting his distress with himself. He hadn't even thought to ask whether Loki's presence here meant there was a way back home. Just a bit more bravado, then:
"I guess that freaky alien god brother of yours is going to be pissed off, right? Do you think there's going to be enough left of you for him to figure out what happened?"
The now monstrous Clint Barton who had just been feasting on Loki's side had the audacity to make light of the situation?
Loki didn't even have the energy to feel indignant. He made an agitated guttural sound, but was otherwise too busy feeling the affliction of Barton's venom to snap back at him. The sharp pain of his bones cracking under the pressure of Barton's tail was drowned out by the fire of his poison, mercilessly coursing through Loki's body like lava. He curled in on himself -- as much as their positions allowed -- eyes clenched shut, teeth gritted and jaw locked, his fingers curled and nails digging into his palms.
This was torture. This was death. He knew it explicitly, but could not focus on the ramifications; the agony was all-consuming. His liver was the worst off, already more half-way dissolved, and as the venom took hold of his heart, he gasped and clawed the ground in a vain attempt to escape that which was inside of him.
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graveyardsmash2014-07-04 09:45 pm
no subject
"What's wrong? Upset you can't bully the locals into doing what you want?"
For all intents and purposes, the voice was coming from a monster that bore Agent Barton's face. He stood tall on a massive snake's tail, though he still clung to the limited modesty gained by a shirt and jacket. His arms crossed over his chest, unable to keep himself from a menacing hiss between words.
"Sending you here while I'm this hungry is just about the nicest thing this place's done for me yet."
no subject
Stunned by the creature before him, Loki failed to promptly respond. What in all the realms was Barton's top half doing on a serpent? Seriously. What the fuck happened while he was in prison?
Questions he was sure Barton wouldn't indulge. His body had tensed the second he'd heard Barton's voice, but if it were possible to become even more rigid, then the sight of Barton had accomplished just that. The hand at his side slinks behind him, seeking the comfort of his dagger.
"Agent Barton," he finally greeted, maintaining a neutral tone that impressively did not convey the degree of alarm and what-the-fuckery running through his veins. "Fancying a change of pace?"
no subject
He bared his fangs, visibly salivating.
"Got any last words before you start working your way down my throat?" At least,that's how Clint figured he was supposed to eat now. Snakes unhingee their jaws and stuff, right? This was all still so bizarre, but he wasn't about to show weakness in front of someone like Loki.
no subject
To make matters worse, the hand slinking for his dagger touched upon nothing but air and leather. A twitch in his brow was all the reaction he gave, but inside, his stomach twisted with apprehension. He was left with nothing but technique and mortal strength to fend off this mutated version of Barton.
And, of course, his tongue.
Not very encouraging when his opponent knew he was a lying asshole.
"I take it Thor hasn't informed you," he said, a sliver of caution slipping into his voice. He had to try.
no subject
Clint took the moment to advance, closing some of the gap between them. As much as his body instructed him to abandon caution and go in to bite, his eyes flickered to Loki's hand in his pocket. Probably something magical.
"And keep your hands where I can see them. You're gonna die like a man, understood?"
no subject
He deserved it. He hated it.
Slowly, so as to not appear like he might try something, he lifted both hands up to chest-level in a universal sign of surrender. "If you care at all about maintaining your alliance with him, you may want to hold off on revenge. I wager he wouldn't be pleased to hear that I've died -- again."
no subject
Reflexively, his forked tongue flicked out to sniff the air between them, interrupting his speech.
"And the way I see it, I'm not going to be able to stop myself from eating someone for a whole lot longer. It's better you than someone innocent." The only strangeness was the way Loki looked to his altered vision. He could tell the townspeople by their heat signatures now, a visual version of the way a well-cooked steak used to smell. Loki lacked it. It was almost as if--
"So what's wrong with your body temperature?"
no subject
Had it been voluntary? Given Barton's earlier remark -- 'just about the nicest thing this place's done for me yet', Loki was inclined to believe not. For what purpose had he been abducted? To turn into this serpentine bastardization of himself?
What did it mean for Loki?
Well, it meant he was about to become a meal if he failed to escape Barton's attention -- and Barton was doing a good job of securing that failure, herding Loki further into the woods. Loki knew his objective, but hadn't much options available to him. Allowing Barton to pressure him deeper gravely diminished his chance of survival.
He had to make a break for it.
"Excuse me?" he asked, brow arching. So Barton could read body temperatures... and apparently his own was 'wrong'? His heritage couldn't be the reason...
He waited for his answer, intending to dart mid-sentence.
no subject
He hissed instead of replying verbally, lunging forward with his fangs bared and claws extended. He needed it, needed to grip the man in front of him and bite down until fangs met flesh. It felt horrifying,but there was no way to keep the urge at bay.
At least it was someone who deserved it.
What Clint wasn't equipped to consider was that, provided that Loki didn't simply flee, a bite wouldn't mean instant death. His feeding was cursed to be a slow process, limited to the time it took for his venomto take hold. Either way, he'd soon be sorely disappointed.
no subject
He didn't take it well.
Sucking in a sharp breath between clenched teeth, he clutched his side and stumbled forward, but ran nonetheless. His pace, however, was negatively affected by his wound. Barton would have no issue landing a second blow.
no subject
no subject
Then he was bit. His face twisted in agony; a hoarse cry escaped his throat. His fingers dug into the woodland debris in an immediate, desperate attempt to reroute the pain searing in his side. Just as quickly, he twisted and swung a fist at Barton's head. Regardless of whether it landed or not, he swung another and another, pummeling Barton in a last ditch effort to survive -- but ignorant to the futility in trying.
His racing heart facilitated the swift spread of the venom through his blood vessels. Irony was a cruel.
no subject
"What the hell have I been doing?"
He wasn't apologetic to Loki in the slightest, but the monstrosity in the moment struck him. His tail coiled a bit tighter, as Clint himself was indifferent to whether he broke bones. But even now, there was the pressure to avoid admitting his distress with himself. He hadn't even thought to ask whether Loki's presence here meant there was a way back home. Just a bit more bravado, then:
"I guess that freaky alien god brother of yours is going to be pissed off, right? Do you think there's going to be enough left of you for him to figure out what happened?"
no subject
Loki didn't even have the energy to feel indignant. He made an agitated guttural sound, but was otherwise too busy feeling the affliction of Barton's venom to snap back at him. The sharp pain of his bones cracking under the pressure of Barton's tail was drowned out by the fire of his poison, mercilessly coursing through Loki's body like lava. He curled in on himself -- as much as their positions allowed -- eyes clenched shut, teeth gritted and jaw locked, his fingers curled and nails digging into his palms.
This was torture. This was death. He knew it explicitly, but could not focus on the ramifications; the agony was all-consuming. His liver was the worst off, already more half-way dissolved, and as the venom took hold of his heart, he gasped and clawed the ground in a vain attempt to escape that which was inside of him.
Payback, Loki would learn, was indeed a bitch.