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:
Lots of people have asked good questions on the FAQ, so do take a look.
You can only app ONE character per round so choose wisely.
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.
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.
Valgaav wasn't entirely sure how long he'd spent wandering around this forest, occasionally glancing up at the high treetops that were surely taunting him. It would be so much easier if he could just teleport out of this place, slip into the astral and find somewhere else to be.
Unfortunately, he's had no such luck. Firmly rooted in the physical ever since he arrived, and for all that he retained the few unusual resting physical traits that belied a nature other than human, he could not summon forth his wings or claws to save his life. Words weren't enough to even BEGIN to cut into how very much this grated on him; being forced to play puppet to the whims of something else, and to be essentially a filthy human at that.
It really was just as well that he found himself lost, anyway. For all that the villagers of Vandare were falling all over themselves to present him with offerings, they were also passing out condescending pamphlets. He had all the luck of receiving one entitled "How to know if you're turning into a walking fish", before he finally lost his temper and stormed off. He didn't need their charity anyway. Or their pity. He was going to survive all on his own if their assistance was the only presented alternative.
Upon finding a clearing, he began to settle in and attempt to form a makeshift shelter before nightfall. Low, angry muttering may be heard if you were to listen closely enough..
Scenario three/four(pick anything for Valgaav!):
Amber eyes scanned the area as clouds of mist began to wash over the town. It was cold, damp, and not particularly pleasant, but it definitely didn't seem to be worth the hype that the townsfolk seemed to be selling it as.
Of course, Valgaav was no stranger to the idea of monsters attacking a town - that was pretty much an accepted happening where he was from. What he wasn't seeing was anything to indicate that that kind of commotion was about to set in. Aside from the mist, however, which he'd been warned about countless times.
It may well have been that cocky streak of his, almost reminiscent of that of a teenager, that kept him from seeming overly worried about it. He was an ancient dragon -- no, he was a loyal monster servant of his Lord Chaos Dragon, and he wasn't about to let himself be pushed around by just anyone. He wasn't about to disgrace what remained of Gaav's legacy by running in fear. Not now.
"Monsters, huh? Time to see if there really are other monsters here or not."
Kain still had his habit of going out scouting the new arrivals; it was easier to get to the Vandare area now that he had wings, and tracking people from the air was ridiculously easy.
The fog in the woods made it so there wasn't much of a shadow overhead when he banked lower until he was close overhead, braking sharp with a few wingbeats before touching down; he's managed to work out how to sling the duffel-bag he carries supplies in to not get in the way in flight.
And ... well, you just walked out and got lost, which means you probably don't have food or anything to weather the night besides that lean-to.
[One] [Mari's not entirely certain why everyone is so convinced she's going to start eating them any second now, but whatever. If that's their deal, that's their deal and she'd be pretty dumb not to take advantage of it, right? That would be why she's parked herself at a cafe not too far from the hospital and is now holding court and milking it for all the free food and groveling she can get.
Occasionally, a new waiter will approach timidly with a new tray, having been told they better keep the cake coming or she's going to start eating the customers. If she doesn't like what she sees, it gets sent back to the kitchen immediately with a sugary smile and a new threat. This newest piece doesn't look promising, but hey, that person staring at the spectacle from the doorway does.]
Oh, did you just get here? Come on and sit down or the guy I sent to buy me shoes isn't going to be able to get in the door! Come on, come on!
[Two] [You've just gotten poked roughly from behind with a stick.]
Hey, you! I need to get out of here. What are you standing around for?
[Her clothes are dirty and torn and it looks like she's been lost here for a while. That might have something to do with why she isn't even trying the charm. She's tired, irritable, and not fit for the public eye and that's not acceptable. What kind of champion of justice gets lost in the woods? Seriously, if she can find whoever's laughing, they're in for it.]
[It's no small wonder she's been chosen as a prime candidate for getting poked with a stick -- the poor Origin has been standing in the spot for the better part of a minute or so, head tilted and gaze cast upwards towards the sky, as though might actually be a reasonable way of finding herself out of the godforsaken place. When she turns to Mari, it's slowly, with no sense of urgency whatsoever.]
Standing around...? ... Oh, I suppose I was, wasn't I? Ho-hum.
[Despite the blankness of her expression, she seems to pout, just a little. Needless to say, the air around Tyria is something of a drowsy one.]
I was hoping to see a familiar face, but yours isn't familiar at all. [Her eyes fall to the stick in Mari's hands, and her own, at her sides, outstretch their fingers, like she's more surprised to see it than she is to be faced with another living, breathing person.] Are you using that as a weapon?
scenario one: [ The good ("good") thing about having dealt with vampires before, is that Victor knows what to expect. Having dissected one and fought others, Victor wouldn't call himself an expert, but knowledgeable? He was very knowledgeable, thank you very much, and easily knew more than this ridiculous little pamphlet did. The bad thing about having dealt with vampires before is that Victor's laboring under the delusion that his vampires = all vampires ever ever.
Honestly, Victor looks like he might be a citizen himself. He's certainly got the garb for it, wearing his Victorian clothes (and smelling oddly like chemicals). He's sitting on a hospital bench, reading a pamphlet (Vampires And You: How To Manage Those Constant Cravings) and occasionally making little scoffing noises as he reads. Turning into fog. How ridiculous. None of the ones back home had managed to turn into fog. And where was the mention of the exoskeleton? How people were expected to learn anything from these pamphlets was beyond him.
As someone approaches, Victor nods at them, looking up from his pamphlet. ] You probably won't find anything good here. These are all terribly wrong. [ or, at least, to Victor "I know things and am better than you" Frankenstein, they're terribly wrong. ]
scenario three: [ Whoopsie, someone's kind of addicted to morphine and hasn't managed to shoot up in a while. So not only is he lost in the fog, but he's lost in the fog while battling a lot of pain. Victor's practically staggering around, utterly lost, trying to find his way out of here so that he could...well, he didn't know what he could do. So he could do something.
Unfortunately, staggering means that he lost his footing. And losing his footing means surprise, you have a scrawny little pale British man falling straight towards you. Please catch him. He probably breaks easily. (and hey, if you don't catch him, the ground will) ]
[It's a quiet, careful drawl from the girl who'd been approaching. She has quite a few pamphlets herself. (Mermaid or MerMAD, The Care and Keeping of Your Nymph, Faerie Rings and How to Avoid Them, Goblins and Their Ilk, among the top ones.) It's... Well. She doesn't seem as freaked out as some people are.
This actually isn't the weirdest thing to ever happen to her, honestly.
But she wasn't going to waste her time studying and trying to figure all this sort of thing out if the information was wrong. Because this wasn't mutants. These were actual, movie and storybook monsters. She'd seen weird before, but this was a different kind of weird. If someone else knew better? She'd listen.]
I... wouldn' mind knowin' what 'm really in for. If... all this is really happenin', that is.
[This could still be... some kind of elaborate prank. Or... hallucination. Or something.]
SCENARIO ONE: Asuka was used to hospitals. Being the son of a doctor, as well as having the sort of inclination to be the type to try and fly, meant that he'd seen more than his fair share of blank ceilings and scrubbed orderlies.
He wasn't used to the view outside the window, though. As soon as he'd been released he'd made a beeline for the strange things poking up out of the ground. They were hard and dark and covered in some sort of scratchy material, and completely unlike anything he'd ever seen before. Why would a pole need that sort of a textured feel? And why would it splinter off into all those littler branches? A pole should be straight up and down and get its job done; that was what he thought!
Maybe his unfamiliarity was what had tipped off the locals--"Oh, are you new in town?" "Is there anything you need?" "Here, maybe you'd like to have this?" had all been aimed in his direction so far, all with varying states of concern and something else he couldn't name. The last question had been accompanied by a thin paper booklet, hastily pushed into his hands, with a title Asuka had at first struggled to read: "Wow! There's Hair Down There... and Everywhere Else!"
Asuka frowned at the booklet, leaning back against his chosen pole (maybe that was its purpose? To be a convenient rest for leaning against?) and glancing up at the grey, grey ceiling. Not a light in sight, and yet it was much brighter out here than it normally should have been...
Dreams were weird.
SCENARIO THREE: [Asuka's heard about the fog by this point, but this is the first time he's seen it. He'd thought it would be like the sandstorms of home--building up with at least some warning before it overtook you. But very obviously he'd been wrong.
Being unable to see more than a few feet before him is familiar though, and so he's stumbling through the fog as best he can, trying to recall his mental map. He'd been told to get home when the fog started, that it was too dangerous outside for anyone, and though he's still not entirely convinced this isn't all just a long, convoluted dream he's having, he knows better than to ignore that sort of warning. Ignoring warnings led to bad consequences. Like Kaz's face, for instance.
There's someone ahead of him in the fog. He can't make out much, just enough to know that it's something living, and instinctively Asuka's calling out.]
Hey! Isn't it supposed to be dangerous out here in the fog? C'mon, we can head back to town together to ride this thing out.
[Bel's heard about the fog too, but he didn't expect it to be this dark. Somebody could have told him to bring a torch (or one of those flashlight things), since he still can't conjure a light himself.
The townsfolk could have been more specific about what kind of dangers to expect, too. The talk of monsters... If he were properly prepared it would be no problem. Probably. Hopefully. But all he's managed to get hold of so far is a perfectly ordinary dagger, and he lays a hand on it when he catches sight of motion in the fog.
The voice that calls out sounds perfectly human, though. Walking faster, Bel calls back:]
[Being washed up on the beach of an unfamiliar world wasn't the most conventional way to arrive, and not the way Sora would've chosen to do it. Everything prior to waking up in a hospital bed is unknown to him, and while it's disturbing, dwelling on it won't help him figure out what happened.
Unfortunately, questioning the locals doesn't help either, and within a couple hours of exiting the hospital, he's gained a sizeable stack of pamphlets as well as several offers of free room and board in various inns. But no information on what happened to him.]
Uhh...no offense guys, but you're kinda starting to freak me out with all these things. Really, I don't think I'm turning into...a bunnyipyip?
Four; Shade
[Or maybe he was turning into a bunnyipyip. Whatever it was. Something was happening to him--he didn't normally have claws, nor were parts of him blackened and intangible. Blackened, in the past, for the brief periods where he'd been turned into a Heartless, but at least he wasn't able to stick things through himself during those times.
Not that he'd tested. But he wasn't testing this time, either. His hand just kind of went through the door handle. And then again a second time and a third.
How's he supposed to get back in his house? Care to help a kid out?]
[A shadow passes over Sora from above, perching on a nearby rooftop. At a glance, it might be somewhat spooky. Big, leathery wings? Clawed, reptilian feet?
A closer glance will reveal that despite some scales around his face, arms, legs, and chest, this monster has a familiar face. Riku's face.
And now that he's gotten a read on Sora, he's hopping down for a closer look.]
((Please note whether or not you want translations for Anghel's dialogue!))
ONE
[He's read over the pamphlets time and time again. The contents are hard to swallow, but the fact that he appears to be in a completely different world with a completely different point of view is impossible to deny. He's even human somehow, a form he's drawn himself in once or twice in the past but feels wrong to be in now.
Still, Anghel Higure is not about to give up now. He is the Crimson Angel of Judecca, the Fallen Angel sworn to defeat evil, and there is no doubt that the stench of evil permeates this land down to the very earth.
His shoulders are thrown back and his head is held high as he slams the door to the grocers open and points at the first person he sees]
You! You are one who has passed through the mirror's reflection, are you not? The prophecy says a dark will stirs, and will devour the hearts of all who heed its whisper. Does the prophecy speak true, or does the fortune-teller weave only lies?
THREE
The Devil's Miasma grows thick. To remain here is to be lost to the darkness...
[A teenage JRPG reject wanders through the streets of Vandare, eyes darting back and forth. He clutches a ballpoint pen in his hand like a lifeline, but every time he looks down at it, he seems to be confused at it's presence. It feels similar, but the item in his hand is no spear. The whole world looks and feels different, and strangely enough the fog is the most familiar things he's seen.
Despite the horror it should invoke within, it's strangely... comforting.
Suddenly, he whips around, his hand gripping his chest]
[The truly horrible sad part here is that Kain has direct personal experience with dark gods that corrupt and devour while whispering into minds.]
[Which means that the gargoyle that'd been wandering past the grocer minding his own business is spending a good minute staring at Anghel with a wide-eyed blink that looks slightly more traumatized than the "WHAT KIND OF BRAIN DAMAGE ARE YOU" that someone with less nerves attached to that kind of ranting would have.]
...I don't think you need a fortune teller for that.
Scenario 1: Oh, my. What a warm welcome they're receiving! How kind of everyone. Why, it's almost too good to be true, isn't it?
They know better than anyone to beware of those bearing gifts, and the trouble that always attends them. They know better than anyone to search for the strings, to question the exact shape and boundaries of anything offered to them..... and to always, always read the fine print before accepting or signing anything.
It's not hard at all to determine the particular conditions of this seeming town-wide outpouring of generosity, though. It takes one to know one, after all--the townsfolk want something from them. They're afraid. Afraid of little old them! What a ridiculous concept! Why, they would never harm so much as a flycatcher! (Not directly, that is. Not in any way they don't bring upon themselves, in the end. Not unless Mother asks them to, or it's absolutely necessary.) They want to ingratiate themselves, want to ensure they're regarded fondly and gratefully, want to make sure they're too useful and cared for to be.....
Dismissed. Disposed of. Eaten, according to the pamphlets they were given, and all the explanations they'd gotten, by the insatiably hungry, man-eating monsters they were surely becoming. Why, how very brutal! How terrifying! These poor, unfortunate souls, enduring a steady stream of strangers flowing into their city with the tide, plucked out like so much driftwood and bound to ravage their population to sate their dark impulses. If only there were something they could do to help.....
But alas, it seems no salvation is to come at their fins--or hands. They're doomed to become bloodthirsty monsters themselves, after all--and all that after they've become human to begin with! What a terrible bother all this transformation is; they never asked to be taken from Mother. They never wished for any spells, never signed a contract, never had any desire to go gallivanting around on land with all manner of alien and awkward limbs..... At least they still have their voices, and don't need the power of anyone's true love's kiss. On the other hand, that also means there's no obvious way to resolve this conundrum either, for better or worse.
Well, at least they shouldn't have to worry about it for some time, according to these (slightly dubious) pamphlets. They can worry about adjusting to being human before they need to go through the process all over again. The two have been given scrubs and hospital slippers, to compensate for arriving stark naked, and canes they can lean their whole weight on to compensate for..... well, gaining their land legs. Or any legs at all, for that matter. Their balance is still shaky at best, even with the help, and they don't quite seem to trust--or maybe just fully grasp, so to speak--holding things, if their iron grips on their canes are any indication.....
But they still seem to be coping awfully well with their predicament, even in high enough spirits to joke about it as they make their way, two whip-thin dark-skinned boys with teal hair and mismatched eyes, still reeking of the sea and leaning against each other to ensure they stay upright. Perhaps they're window-shopping, peering in at storefronts in equal measures of confusion and thoughtful appraisal, clearly unsure of either what they're seeing or what they're doing. Perhaps they're calling to you or reaching out to catch your sleeve instead--either because you look so blatantly inhuman, or because they've simply recognized that the locals are treating you differently, too.
"Excuse me."
"Do you have a moment?"
"We could use a little advice."
Scenario 4:(Feel free to choose any monster for them you want!) It's not a bad deal at all, living with this particular pair of twins. They're consistently polite and friendly, even outright solicitous rather than simply thoughtful--it's rare to find either of them without a smile on their face, and they seem to genuinely want to make you comfortable and happy, to indulge and help you however you might think to ask, to..... well..... as silly as it sounds, grant your wishes.
Sure, they may be a little strange, and have trouble keeping the concept of personal space in mind--they seem to enjoy being so close things could easily get uncomfortable, even leaning or draping on people if the situation and person permit--, and they need a lot of explanations and help getting up to speed with even odd basics of daily life..... But to be fair, it sounds like they weren't human to begin with. And even beyond that, is a bit of discomfort or inconvenience really something that overshadows how much they seem to like you?
They've been looking a little feverish for a few days now, though, more inclined to curl up and sleep instead of being out and about or getting into your business, too sick and tired and in pain to do much. Flotsam (it is Flotsam, isn't it?) is sprawled languidly on the couch, while Jetsam leans against the window to watch the city outside; he sounds utterly conversational, even relieved. "I think it's finally happening."
"Thank Poseidon. I wonder how long it will take?"
"I wonder what shape it will take?"
"Anything is fine, don't you think? As long as it's done this time....."
"Mmm..... I hope we'll still be able to swim."
Scenario 4(?) Bonus Alternate:(Naga, Kelpie, or Merfolk, your choice; I couldn't not give them a mermaid or land equivalent option, or the chance to just be seafaring again.) Maybe you're at home, with your perfectly matched roommates. Maybe you work with them, whatever you do together. Maybe you're just a passerby on the street or at the docks or beach, or just as lost in the Lager Woods as they are, minding your own business until your attention is caught by the sound of a strangled yelp of pain and a body hitting the ground. There's a sharp gasp immediately after; Flotsam sinks to his knees beside Jetsam, hovering anxiously over him. "Are you alright?"
Oh, Ursula would recognise her boys anywhere. She's been busy doing as she does, though without her magic she's been forced to rely on the power of her personality to ingratiate herself with the locals. Pretending to be oh so helpless and lost. ('No of course, dear. I'd never hurt you, you've been so helpful to me.' She'd say. And perhaps she's not as soft and demure-- as pretty as she'd make herself to pull this kind of thing off, but it seems to work just the same.)
But the sound of their voices warms a cecaelia's heart, and even lets her forget the slight of having her tentacles replaced with these barely useful legs. (How humans manage, she'll never know.) She comes up behind them after watching a stranger pass them by, observing their gaits. The way they lean on these canes and on eachother, and the smell of the sea that almost makes her think of home.
No time for any of that, however.
"Backs straight, boys." She says with the kind of authoritarian voice she hasn't gotten to use since she arrived. Oh that does feel good.
This wasn't the first thing he noticed, after waking in the strange sterile hospital room, or even the second. The bells came before- first that they were gone, and then (after frantically flagging down a confused doctor, who it turned out had removed the bandolier to dry when he was brought in) that they were dead. No marks swimming golden over their surface, no sense of familiar magic when he touches the handles--they might as well have been ordinary musical instruments.
Naturally, this led him to reach for the Charter itself next, and find its flow simply... absent.
They say Charter Magic fades south of the Wall, but Bel never experienced it for himself. Up until now, he couldn't even have imagined it: it was part of him, as it was a part of everything, and suddenly being cut off from it is a bit like losing a limb.
The doctors are little help in figuring out where he is (Ryslig? Where's that in relation to the Old Kingdom? They've never heard of it?) and less in determining why this is happening. Bel is still asking questions even as they hand him a device and gently shunt him out the door.
He might be a little bit in shock, but it doesn't take long before he decides to investigate that device. No one told him what it is, so he'll find out for himself- it must be important. Pretty much the only lead he has, right now.
Unfortunately, it only raises more questions.]
JINGLEBELL has joined 094.78.11.37
Is this a communication device/ Hello1 This is amazing1 How does it work/
Er, before that is there some switch I've missed. The buttons have more marks on them; is there a way to make them. The question mark at least.
[Typewriters haven't even been invented yet where he's from, let alone computers. At least he figured out what "CAPS LOCK" does.
But for the poor boy's sake, don't tell him what it actually runs on.
Those not currently messing about with their network devices can find a pale young man in outdated garb messing about with his device in a park near the hospital. Less "park" than "small green space", really, but there's a bench.]
[scenario 3/4: the fog is always bad news (harpy)]
[The fog rolls in with little warning. The local folk know what to expect when they see the smudge on the horizon, but Bel hasn't had the chance to get used to this particular facet of life in Ryslig. He's still outside when the mist comes down, and without a single source of light.
Back home, he would hardly have to think about it to call up a Charter-light, and it's still the first thing he tries. But the Charter remains as unreachable as ever. He'll have to navigate as best he can blind--
Pain spikes across his back and shoulders, sudden and fierce enough to nearly bring him to his knees. Bel grabs a lamp-post for support, breathing hard, thoroughly distracted from thoughts of getting to shelter.]
Have you tried fiddling with the buttons? The question mark in particular belongs to a rather elusive submenu.
[It's nothing like using a Telemo, so even for someone who's used to all the New Age High Tech Fantasy RPG Technology like Tyria, maneauvering the keyboard had been such a thing.]
[ It had taken too long to get away from all the natives, mostly because she kept stopping to accept the things they offered. She didn't like just dismissing people, after all, or walking away when they spoke to her. It seemed so rude, especially when they were all treating her so nicely. But she couldn't stay there forever, so she had to assure them that she didn't need a place to stay, and that she was a-okay, she would find her way home just fine...
The one thing she kept accepting the whole way, though, were the pamphlets, and the mass of paper in Mabel's arms when she finally gets a ways away from the hospital is a little ridiculous. She's pretty sure she has one or two of every one they were offering, and honestly, she has no idea what to do with them all. They would make fun, Halloween-esque scrapbooking material, if she were back home, but she's not. She has no real idea where she is, and worse than that? She's alone. There are people milling around, sure, but her brother isn't there, and neither is Grunkle Stan or anyone else she knows, and it's a little frightening, not having that safety net of familiarity.
She refuses to dwell on it, and as she walks, she turns her attention instead to some of the pamphlets she has. It's a little hard to look at them when she has so many, so she ends up leaving a pamphlet trail behind her, but she doesn't seem to notice.
Eventually she stops to squint down at one of the stranger pamphlets. ]
...I'm becoming a fur bearing what now? [ That doesn't even sound like a real thing! ]
Scenario two:
Uhhh...
[ Mabel's one to remain pretty optimistic in most situations, and she prides herself on that fact. But even she has her limits. She's been wandering around in the woods for hours, with no idea where she's going, and every time a path seems familiar and she follows it, she just ends up feeling like she went in a circle or wandered further into the woods. Which isn't exactly comforting. She's cold and hungry, and wants to get back to relative safety.
Especially with the weird, disembodied giggling coming from somewhere. ]
Hey, is anyone out there? [ She picks a direction, rushes forward, and slams into someone before she even realizes they're there. ]
[That giggling? It's all Marie can do not to scream. She's tried to stay calm, even tried marking her path just to make sure she's not going in circles, but it feels like it's doing nothing.
So when something runs into her? She has to hold her hand over her mouth to keep from shrieking.
But it's... A little girl. Who looks human. But she knows how little that can mean.]
You... Are you somethin' that's gonna try an' eat me?
[Not that she expects an honest answer, but the question comes anyway.]
[Olette'd like to think she was fairly rational and calm about odd situations. When monsters showed up in Twilight Town she held her cool pretty well, and she was willing to smack a shadow walking fire weilder with a nail bat to keep someone safe.
This is something else, however. She's not at home anymore, Hayner and Pence are no where to be seen, and every doctor that hurries over to see her assures her she's going to be all right before hurrying off again to someone else just waking up.
So she's in a bit of a daze when she exits the hospital, rubbing a bite mark on her neck that particularly itches, only to be confronted by people and pamphlets, leaving the poor girl even more stunned as she looks over What to Expect When You're Expecting (to Turn Into a Monster). That seems to get her going and she tries to shove phamplets back]
N-no way! I'm not going to turn into a monster! You're wrong!
Three/Four: [default faerie or you can make up something for her!] [It's all she's heard about since showing up. The fog. Fog this and fog that, and people turning into monsters in them. People who've turned themselves going on rampages during them, eating those who've gotten stuck outside or strayed.
Which is why she's hurrying fast back to her place, the fog curling tendrils around her as she quickly walks through it. It's chilly and it's making her skin itch, though she hopes that's just how damp it is.
And considering it's incredibly hard to see during the fog, she's not aware of anyone else until they're suddenly there in front of her and she's running into them, letting out a surprised yelp as she rebounds off, landing on her ass oh so gracefully]
[Olette isn't the only one hurrying home; Itachi is in no small hurry to get out of the fog. But he's not moving very fast -- the transformation has taken hold of him, and its aftershocks are still rippling through his body, and he's half-limping, half-staggering on his way back.
She's not large, but with his unsteadiness, she nearly bowls him over.]
What- [He catches himself, and the look he turns on her is, for a brief moment, absolutely thunderous -- and the long fangs that have sprouted from his mouth and the newly-erupted, still-bloody horns on his forehead probably add to the effect.] Watch where you're going.
scenario one [Where Abigail was from, people didn't just shower her kind with food and niceness. And...really weird reading material. (A Wendigo ate my Baby and Other True Stories and What Goblins Gobble were her favorites so far - she could not stop laughing) Naturally she had initially reacted with skepticism but after getting a good little feast for one going, she decided she would ride this out for as long as she could.
Of course - her eyes were way bigger than her stomach. And that left a lot of stuff going cold.
Fetch hated seeing wasted food. So she glanced over at the person nearest her and waved a nice hearty looking sandwich in their face.]
Y'want it?
scenario three
[She'd never been fond of fog to begin with. Especially at night, it reminded her of that creepy game with the pyramid guy. That was some spookiness she could definitely live without. Seattle was bad enough - not as awful as San Fran, but there was still too much of the stuff.
This place though? Was on a whole other level. A pea-soup esque one. Fetch was being smart and sticking to well-lit places instead of venturing out into the dark where...stuff could be. Considering she didn't have her powers? She'd take her chances where she could actually see.
As of that moment, she was looking for a place to crash for the night. Fetch wished she could get high up again without having to get some serious climbing skills. Perching on top of buildings for the night was always a good idea. Kept you safe nine times out of ten.
If she bumps into someone else while walking around with her eyes directed upward instead of forward, well clearly it's your fault not hers.]
[Reno is, uh... Having some trouble with this. He's leafing through this pamphlet about fur-bearing trout after having someone tell him it was a very important read, and he's starting to suspect they're messing with him. Honestly this whole situation feels like some sort of mako-addled nightmare. Maybe he fell in a reactor or something. It's not really like him, but it'd make more sense than this.
He's had enough of the forceful charity and bizarre attempts at explaining the situation, and leaves after a while. Grabbing a handful of leaflets on his way and going to find somewhere to sit that doesn't seem like he'll be overrun with locals trying to get on his good side for whatever reason. ('Cause turning into a talking bird and killing the fuck out of everyone seems real likely.)
Some of the leaflets read like actual information, but some of them read like tabloid nonsense and he's having trouble figuring out which ones are useful to him in the immediate future, so he glances up at the nearest person who doesn't seem to be giving him a wary side-eye and tries to call them over.]
Hey--! [He stands and waves them over, brandishing a handful of leaflets.] You know which ones of these are bullshit?
[three.]
[He'd heard about the fog, but really there's no better way to learn than experience. Unfortunately, thick fog in an unfamiliar town means Reno loses his bearings pretty quickly. He wanders a while, trying to spot some kind of landmark he recognises enough to help him get somewhere a little safer. Somewhere he can hole up and figure out what to do next. More annoyed than scared-- how stupid to get stuck out here with no weapons! What's he gonna do if he gets cornered, sass them to death?
He's on his guard, eyes and ears open as he moves cautiously. Of course this does mean that if anyone is unfortunate enough to surprise him, he may well punch them in the face on reflex.]
[Lavi's not too badly changed; his visible eye glows an icy green, he's got claws and a mouth full of sharp teeth, but other than that he still looks pretty human. Also, fuck sunlight. That would be why he's covered up.
Normally Lavi just tried to get from point A to point B as fast as he could now, not wanting to stay outside during the day any longer than he absolutely had to, but Reno and his pamphlets catch his attention. More newcomers. More people to be turned into nasty shit against their will. Great.
Might as well help him sift through what was bullshit and what wasn't. He'd have to know sooner or later.]
Sure, lemme see...[He outright snorts at the fur-bearing trout one, and the bunyipyip and axehound ones get similar reactions. Seems the townsfolk were still putting out useless pamphlets, even if the accuracy of the others had improved.]
These? [He indicated the three silly ones.] These are all nonsense. The rest of 'em...I hate to say it, but they're pretty spot-on for the most part.
[The boss isn't unfamiliar with people being nice to them to get on their good side, but it's become a little more unusual over the past few months. Working under the assumption that this is some other simulation, of course. Though their mind is a little more open to the idea that they've just straight up been kidnapped and taken to some other weird world where people really do turn into monsters than they would've been a year ago. So maybe that's why they seem surprisingly chill about it all, even if they're scanning leaflets and declaring each one to be either "bullshit," "fucking nonsense," or "kinda funny actually," as they pick them up - keeping the funny ones, of course.]
[Maybe they should work on getting out of here or something, but why not take advantage-- uh. Graciously accept the kindness of strangers in the meantime? They've gotten a sandwich and a drink out of it so far. So they'll be getting the attention of someone nearby who looks like they need to chill out with a pat on the shoulder.]
You want a drink? This guy has the best beer I've ever tried.
[two.]
[No idea how they found themself in the forest, but hey. A dark and dangerous area seems like the best place to start acting like a fucking lunatic. By and large, they're just wandering in circles, staring straight up without any thought towards who else might be out here or even being slightly less lost. Are they even paying attention to the giggling? Probably not. They have bigger fish to punch in the face.]
Kinzie!? Matt!? [They stop in the middle of a clearing, looking none too pleased.] If you assholes can hear me and you aren't doing everything in your power to get me out of here, that's... That's fucking treason!
[He doesn't even care. He's trapped in something that may or may not be a hallucination or a really intense psychosis, whatever it is, he doesn't care. He might've been more interested to do shit that wasn't purely self-destructive if he had had at least the illusion of a capability to walk as he ususally does when unreal shit is happening. But for some reason, he remains trapped in his wheelchair.]
[That either means this shit is totally real and actually happening (which is ridiculous) or that he's got no reprieve from being disabled anymore. Fucking great. Time to get absolutely wasted.]
[It kind of feels like being home. That, at least, is the impression Marie has upon first encountering the natives of this strange place. Southern Hospitality at its finest. Except, of course, that there's some fear behind this sort of 'giving' mood.
Still, it's free food and free clothes and some cash to tide her over when this generosity ends. She isn't going to seem ungrateful, certainly.
The pamphlets she's been offered? Well, Marie's taken them all. Signs of the Times to Come, Kelphie Q&A, Harping on Harpies... If it sounds at all useful, she has a copy. None of this really makes sense, but she's trying.]
Jus' when I get a chance t' be normal. [It's muttered as she opens Weres & Where to Find Them.] Somethin' like this has t' go an' happen.
(3)
[White, trumpet-shaped flowers (which have replaced the once white-streaked hair even without the fog's help) line her face. The rest of her hair has been replaced by dark branches woven together. Her skin is a deeper green than the strange tinge it's begun to take on.
Marie looks like the nymph she will become as time wears away.
The fog feels strange. She feels hungry. But that is a dangerous feeling, and she knows it. After all, she's learned from people here what's going to happen to her, and she's determined to try and keep that from happening.
Besides, she feels... so different like this. She doesn't want anyone to see her. Of course, in her haste to get home and with the mist hanging in the air, she doesn't have the concentration to make a direct path. It's easy, since she's still fairly new in this town, to get lost. Which is exactly what she's done.]
Oh, I don't— oookay, sure, just... keep handing me pamphlets. Thanks. Really.
[Julie gives the local a smile that's not all that sincere, but it's pretty good considering the circumstances. She takes a few more pieces of paper and makes a few more excuses before she can duck out of the hospital, pamphlets crumpled up and shoved in her pocket. Time to see the area for herself, to make sure this isn't some kind of weird trick or elaborate (and completely, inexplicably out of character) plan of Kane's.
As she wanders around town she decides that no, it's probably not, and yes, this is all real. Frustrated and hoping for at least some kind of answers, Julie pulls the pamphlets out of her pockets. She flips through them absently, eventually stopping in the middle of a street just to read a particularly strange one over again.]
"It's Not Tasteful, But It's You: A Guide to Flesh Eating and Being Eaten"? Are they serious?
(two)
[Julie misses a lot of things right now. She misses the Burners, and the garage, and Claire.
But what she really, really misses? Is her car. Walking for hours will do that.]
...Pretty sure that's the same tree I passed an hour ago. Great.
[Something moves in the brush, something big. And it's headed her way.
Texas was just passing by the woods on the road when he smelled something sweet like cotton candy coming from the forest. Of course he just had to check it out. Who doesn't love cotton candy from a creepy forest? As a Minotaur, he traverses this shifting landscape within minutes on the trail of that scent until he pushes his way through some brush and sees...]
Julie? [He blinks his eyes and squints at her.] Are you real or are you one of those mirage thingies?
[As Agnès would say, unacceptable. This situation is all so strange that he's half tempted to believe it's a dream. But then, who knew what was waiting once they passed through the Holy Pillar? Perhaps this strange town was there all along, and he simply passed through some sort of portal.
But that seems a bit unlikely. Moreover, Grandship is gone, his friends are nowhere to be seen. It's worrisome, to say the least, and to top it all off, these eccentric locals are handing him pamphlet after pamphlet.
He reads them, of course, though it's with a healthy hint of skepticism. Still, to his credit, he thanks them for their aid. Any ladies in the nearby area are treated to flattery and a dashing smile before he slips away, trying to evade the crowds just long enough to get a handle on the situation.
It's near the outskirts of town that he finally stops, leaning against a nearby building while he flips through a pamphlet.]
Changes, hm?
[He reaches into his pocket but, alas, his journal is nowhere to be found! His brow creases as he remembers this, and he tucks the booklet away.]
Of all the times to have misplaced my journal...
[Sigh. Seems he'll have to make a fresh start... again. Though at least this time he isn't suffering from another bout of amnesia.]
B;
[Once he's satisfied his curiosity, Ringabel prepares for his next move. Namely, investigation! It's a new town full of unfamiliar faces, and at the moment, he's on his own, without even his journal as a reference. But, rather than sulk, he's going to take matters into his own hands. The first step? Figuring out if the others made it. The lack of 'unacceptables' and 'mrgrgrs' doesn't bode well, but it's certainly worth a try.
Thus, he begins approaching people with a smile and a fairly cheery demeanor.]
Good evening! I hate to be a bother, but I've a few questions, if you'll humor me for a moment.
[The women, however, will get a slightly different greeting.]
My dear, I do hate to interrupt a woman as lovely as yourself, but I fear that I'm new to this land and in need of a little assistance. Just a quick question, nothing more, though if you aren't too busy, I would be honored to spend the evening by your side.
C;
[The woods are like a maze, but it wouldn't be the first time Ringabel has trawled through the woods. Why, he's traversed treacherous dungeons unscathed. Naturally, a bit of exploration was inevitable.
But he's not here for mere thrills. No, by some stroke of luck, he's managed to pick up a pad of paper and a pen and is currently attempting to make sense of the woods by creating a map. The problem is that he seems to have gone in a circle, and the sound of giggling sends a chill down his spine.]
Hmm... There must be some path I'm overlooking.
[ooc: Still a new muse, so pardon any rust. Canon review is ongoing.]
[Edea is just as lost as him and more than a little frustrated. She knows she shouldn't be losing her cool now of all times but that giggling is seriously getting to her. Are there ghosts around here? No way.
But just in case she speeds up, taking a quick turn around a tree and--
--Bam, right into Ringabel.]
Ow! [She stumbles, holding her head, not yet seeing who it is.] Watch where you're going--!
One: Nobody has given Kisame any of the pamphlets, helpful or offensive.
Even the doctors assume there must have been some mistake, that he must have just gotten into some sort of fight. After all, he couldn't have been drowning before he was brought in. How could he, when he already has gills?
Gills and more, besides. He's released promptly enough, after only minimal treatment; he doesn't trust foreign medics, and he really doesn't trust foreign medics treating minor injuries he doesn't remember getting. Bandages are about it--the wounds will heal, they're no worse than anything he'd get in a spar or trivial scuffle.
To be honest, nobody has told him anything.
Why should they, when it looks like he must surely already know? The man looks like he's half-shark, after all; he's probably already changed, probably settled into the life of a predator. He certainly looks it, fierce as he looks, comfortable as he seems in his own skin. They don't say anything, but they treat him with fear and wary respect--just like intimidated civilians always have. He's used to that much.
The suspicious overabundance of generosity, though, the offers and what seem strangely like offerings, like..... like he's some kind of demon or malevolent spirit that needs to be appeased..... That is what strikes him as off about the whole situation. He's the Monster of the Mist, after all, and monsters aren't pandered to--they're hunted down and killed like the unnatural abominations they're claimed to be, or the hunters die trying. That's the way things are meant to be. So what's different, here, and why? What's the catch he needs to be paranoid about until the other shoe drops?
It's only once he sees someone being treated similarly--whether they look obviously inhuman, or incongruously perfectly normal--that Kisame voices his nagging doubt, tone light and faintly amused, friendly grin showing rows of triangular teeth. "Do you think this stuff they're giving us is safe?"
Two: He misses his sword. He misses a lot of things about home, but really, his sword is one of the biggest ones, a loss that even rivals the loss of his chakra. Samehada has been right by his side for years, a constant companion, a partner and protector in every sense of the word.
He misses traveling and good maps, too. The former is why Kisame is out here to begin with--a little camping is better than nothing, and he can at least get a feel for the climate and terrain this way while he thinks of other things he can do--, and the latter is why Kisame is out here still. It's kind of ridiculous, given how much time his missions have had him traveling through uncharted wilderness, but..... well, it is what it is, huh?
Being grouchy about things won't change them. It's a lot better to just find shelter for the night and deal with finding his way back to town in the morning, just like he'd originally intended..... Kisame rocks back on his heels and inspects a tree's lower branches, considering how easy it would be to climb the good old fashioned way. A little height to survey the area for good camping spots would be welcome--and if nothing else, sleeping off the ground would keep him away from the majority of predators, too.
If he even can sleep, that is, with all this racket; he lays a hand on the bark, shaking his head and musing aloud to nobody in particular. "I wonder what sort of genjutsu that is, anyway? Seems awfully pointless, if you ask me....."
Two-ish, Seaworld Version?: Medics are hard to trust--they know too much. They can do too much. Their ability to heal and damage alike are both nearly unparalleled, and that makes them terribly dangerous. Who knows what the people in this town's hospital may be hiding from them before they wake up?
He'd really like to see someone show up, or get attacked, or..... whatever happens whenever someone new arrives. He'd like to see it with his own two eyes, and maybe get to them first, before they could be fished out and rescued, before they could be medically treated. Maybe it would shed a little light on this mystery, eh? Even a little hope is better than none.
That's what sees Kisame lurking underwater, blue skin melting in to make him half-invisible beneath the surface, gills fluttering as he haunts the ocean around the docks and a little ways off the coast of the beach. If anyone is likely to appear, it'd almost certainly be one or the other place to ensure that they could be saved conveniently, right?
Three/Four:(Choose any monster you want, if you want changes, for him or for yours--if you want horrible or gore or whatever, this might be good for it?) Everyone has told him that the fog is dangerous. He doesn't mind, though; he knows that just as well as anyone else.
What better than cold, creeping fog to steal away all senses and smother all sound? What better veil to hide the dangers that lurked in the darkness, and to provide a fitting funeral shroud for the doomed and damned? What better atmosphere is there for predators to stalk their blind, fearful, helpless prey? The fog may be dangerous, but it's his home, and Kisame walks in it without fear--he lived in its embrace for the entirety of his young life, he knows it--and how to handle it, and fight in it--well.
There are monsters in the fog, and whether he's changed or not, Kisame is one of them. Where else would you find the Monster of the Mist?
Three/Four, Bonus Crack: He's felt strange for days now--restless, easily fatigued, constantly thirsty, itchy, aching right down to his bones without any good reason for it, hypersensitive to...... well, everything? Not in a bad way, necessarily, but everything he senses does seem more intense and vivid. He'd almost think he's getting sick, except for the claws--those are new. They're actually kind of nice, and hardly hurt at all to get, since his nails had just changed rather than needing to force sharp things out through bone and muscle and flesh alike. He's scrubbed his nail polish off, though--purple painted claws? That just looks ridiculous.
Either way, he hasn't let it stop him from getting things done. He hasn't let the fog stop him from getting things done, either--he's not afraid, even without Samehada, and being half-blind in such thick mist doesn't scare him, either. He's used to it, given his home village; he can defend himself regardless. What he's not used to, however, is abruptly losing his footing and falling hard..... because he's lost his feet. For a moment, Kisame just lays on the ground and catches his breath, gaping incredulously at the sandals that had fallen off--how can sandals fall off? They're strapped on!--his feet in the process. He only stares harder in even more disbelief once he thinks to look at himself, seeing not legs and bare feet, but a long shark tail.
For a moment, he's numb and silent, frozen by the sheer ridiculousness of the forced change, and the realization that he literally can't get up out of the middle of the path, let alone hurry home. Finally, he lets his head thump against the ground, groaning aloud in resignation. "You have got to be kidding me....."
Itachi has had more pamphlets than he can count pressed into his hands -- absurd, as he's fairly sure he won't be able to read a single one of them. He hasn't tried yet, not wanting to make a display out of his lack of clear vision. Instead, he's just moving through the passersby, trying to fix in his mind the voices and blurred, indistinct faces of the people offering assistance.
He doesn't like asking for help. Doesn't like admitting weakness. But he's quite alone here.
... Or is he? Up ahead, looming over the rest of the group, he sees a figure that looks far more familiar to him, as much as anyone can. He hopes that blur of dark blue is hair, and not a hat -- feels more confident when he catches the blur of lighter blue-grey beneath it.
"... Kisame?" He doesn't call out loudy to his partner, simply speaks, trusting Kisame's sharp hearing to catch his voice. "Is that you?"
Have your partner, Kisame. His eyes have gone dark with the lack of chakra, and his dip in the ocean didn't do anything good for him, but at least he's a familiar (and friendly) face.
It wasn't the first time he found himself lost in an unfamiliar city, but it's the first time he was in that was actually populated by things that weren't murderous monsters. If the pamphlets where anything to go by, he was the one who was the monster, or about to become one, anyway.
"Ryslig?" he mumbles out loud. "Seriously? Is this some sort of joke?"
[Four - Naga]
There's trashed wheelchair lying on the the street. Discarded off to the side of the sidewalk, its wheels are crooked, the seat's split down the middle, and all mechanics crammed together as if someone had attempted to flatten it. Simon is draped over it, holding onto the spakes of the wheel like a castaway man to the remains of his ship.
Simon had read the pamphlets and understood what they meant, he had seen the other monsters, but it had in no way managed to prepare him for his legs to suddenly and violently tear themselves apart.
If this wasn't Ryslig, it wouldn't be evident what is causing him this tremedous agony. There's no blood, no shifting bone, or stretching skin, just a perfectly healthy, large snake tail squirming around behind him. But by god does it hurt. He hasn't felt anything below his waist for a long time, and as his spinal cord and nerves by some miracle fuses themselves together again, the first thing he feels is pain, so much pain.
"Hey, you! What is this!? What the fuck!" he howls out at anyone passing by.
Nagito Komaeda | Dangan Ronpa 2 | open, will match format, let me know if you don't want spoilers!
Among the colourful new arrivals being shooed out of the hospital today, a single thin-faced teenage boy doesn't stick out much, and that suits him just fine. After all, if the unthinkable could happen to an existence as worthless as his, what's stopping it from happening a few more times? More than a few, if the slightly dazed-looking crowd is anything to go by. Yeah, it's better for everybody that Nagito keeps a low profile, at least until he can figure out the best shot at hope that this clearly unfortunate Ryslig place has.
Keeping a low profile doesn't necessarily mean keeping to himself, though - and heck, it's downright refreshing to have so many people willing to talk to him again! Sure, half of them only seem to do it with a little stammering and a lot of darting eyes, but he can understand that.
What he's having a harder time understanding, once he manages to find a free bench and a moment of quiet, is evident in his frown as he leafs back through the stack of pamphlets those friendly locals ended up pressing on him.
"The art in these... could use some work, huh," he says aloud, with a glance toward the closest person who looks like they might listen. Still, he's not bothered if they don't. That's only natural, too. "And what's -"
Cutting himself off with a sudden wince, he hastily sets the leaflets down on his knee so that he can nurse his left hand for a second. Thank goodness there's not much of a breeze right now to make that a precarious position. Hopefully.
The funny thing about crowds like this is that Joshua can pick out individual scents. It's very similar to back at home, singling out an individual thought in the masses of Shibuya, but rather than listen to them thinking about what a good sandwich that was for lunch, he can smell it on them. A trade-off, but a fair one, at least.
Those from Shibuya had a lingering scent of it on them, and he had gone out at the mention of new arrivals to see if anyone from home may have shown up. Unfortunately, no luck as of yet, so all he could do was entertain himself while he was here.
He couldn't really disguise himself, all things considered. He did at least wear a cream-colored cloak, covering his wings and most of his body and shielding him from the cold that slowed him down. A white, furry face and ears and that tri-tipped tail are all that's really visible, but it's enough to keep most of the locals at bay. Just how he likes it.
A quick motion out of the corner of his eye catches his attention, and his head turned sharply to look. Someone nearby that he hadn't been paying very much attention to... But that hair is fairly interesting. He has the same scent that all newcomers have, but also an underlying smell of... illness, was it? Something familiar. Hmm.
"A bit young for arthritis, aren't you?" Joshua speaks up, almost directly behind the boy. "Or are the massive amounts of false information giving you paper cuts?"
[In the words of a lowly commoner, this is bullshit.
First is the simple fact that he's been spirited away somewhere other than where he was. This isn't the Netherworld he knows, and despite being surrounded by humans, this isn't the human world he knows either.
Second, and speaking of being surrounded by humans - cowardly, weak, short-sighted, and all-around deplorable - they are everywhere, and they keep trying to talk to him.
And third is all this business about "changing." Being non-human, eating humans, terrorizing humans? That's all part of normal daily life for a demon like Fenrich. None of that would or could bother thing. But this changing nonsense has him irked. He wouldn't believe it for a second if not for the startling type of dysphoria he's sensing. That something has already changed about himself... that he's already in a state of being weaker, with duller senses. Less like a werewolf, less like himself.
His tolerance for this "bullshit" is quickly depleting. There's a ruckus in front of the hospital as he roars and snarls at the humans circling around him like pigeons.]
Silence, you insufferable monkeys!! [Raising his fist into the air, he yells out at the streets, the sidewalks, basically everyone within earshot.] If you wish to speak to me, hear these demands! First, I demand to know where you have taken my Lord, the former Tyrant Valvatorez!! And second, tell me immediately where your pathetic leader is, so that I may grind his face to the dirt with my boot!
[ Victor just can't help but raise an eyebrow at being called an 'insufferable monkey.' Really. Was that the insult he was going with? Still, knowing that he can't leave well enough along, Victor walked up to Fenrich, looking over the man as he did so. ]
If you want to get someone's attention, might I suggest a method that's not shouting at random people in the street?
[Tsubaki was taking these pamphlets with a healthy dose of skepticism. Some of them portrayed creatures like vampires, werewolves, demons, gargoyles, and others in almost loving detail. Not like she didn't believe these things could exist, considering her world had its fair share of non-human entities, but they were just that; non-human. People didn't just spontaneously turn into them.
"Alternatives To Human Flesh" just makes her shudder. She doesn't even want to know how anyone came up with these alternatives, nor how plausible they were. As she went on, the pamphlets became less disturbing and more ridiculous. A 'bunyipyip'? Really? 'Axe Thieving Axehounds'? And finally...]
A fur-bearing trout?
[And that's where this loses any and all credibility in her eyes.]
Honestly now, after all those horrific things they expect me to believe that?
Four - Arachne (CW blood, spider eyes)
[A sharp pain in her face made Tsubaki cry out and drop her teacup. It shattered on the floor unnoticed as she whimpered, holding her face. To her horror, she could feel something --several somethings-- pushing their way out underneath her left eye. Her breath hitching in her throat, she tentatively touched one of the little bumps that had emerged. It hurt, but not in the way she'd expect. It felt a lot like she'd accidentally poked herself in the eye.
Tsubaki bolted out of her apartment, only remembering to lock the door as an afterthought. She could clean up the mess later; it wasn't important right now. Maybe someone else could help, because she didn't want to face whatever was happening to her alone. She's likely going to stop you if she comes upon you on the street.]
E-excuse me. Do you have a mirror on-hand?
[She's gingerly cupping the left side of her face, blood dripping down her cheek. On the right side, the skin below her eye is also beginning to split and bleed.]
[Oh, no. Weiss knows that tone of voice; it's one she had herself when she started to turn. It takes a little longer than she's used to, given her new fingernails, but she fishes a hand mirror out of her bag, then a set of bandages.
She passes over the mirror, nodding once.]
You might not want to look too closely, but I have one. If you need them, I can help bandage things up, too.
Now these people have got it all wrong. Theo's sure of it. After all, it's part of his duty to be familiar with the ins and outs of the various creatures that the human psyche has created over time, and some of these? Well. He's never come across them before. And the others, the sorts that he's seen brought to life - no, they still don't fit.
He's pretty sure he's not the one making mistakes here, right?
So, here: we find a pale young man, with eyes that could almost be those of some creature or other, peering over the various publications that have been shoved on him and making notes, trying to make some damn sense of it all with relation to what he knows. Or at least to try and work out where they've made the errors.
4:Note: will likely vary monster type with tag
He feels fragile and this is just wrong. Sure, it might be a thing that happens around here. But it's a thing that happens to normal humans. ... So to speak. And the idea that some outside influence is taking hold of him, can take hold of him?
Impossible... isn't it? He controls power, it doesn't control him. Nothing can do that.
But the sensation won't go away, and Theo finds himself just trying to hide somewhere - no-one else is going to get to see him looking so weak, they'd tear him to shreds at the idea, they'd laugh... he can't face the idea. But as he stumbles his way on, gasping for breath, he's probably not as inconspicuous as he'd like to think.
"...You're annotating them? I wouldn't put that much stock in what those guys are trying to tell us, honestly..."
The boy offering him a kindly smile from a few yards away looks at least as pale as anybody else nearby, if not outright sickly, but it doesn't appear to bother him. Without waiting for an invitation, he strolls over, his own growing library of crumpled leaflets clutched in his arms.
"More to the point, are you all right? It's a pretty nerve-racking place to wake up in all of a sudden, isn't it?"
[It's a stark change, going from some cramped room reeking of vomit to a hospital in a country he's never heard of before. Sudden and nonsensical, but not the weirdest thing that's ever happened to him, so Richtofen takes it in stride.
He's not a fan of all this... attention. Standing outside the hospital, he regards the locals with narrowed eyes and a wrinkled nose, and takes their pamphlets between his thumb and forefinger like touching them will infect him with something. They seem particularly eager to please him, which may have something to do with the dried blood covering his uniform.
As he reads through the pamphlets, he speaks with a heavy German accent.]
'Alternatives to Human Flesh'... Nein, this is most assuredly wrong. Trust me, I am a doctor. Pah! [He turns away and tosses the pamphlet over his shoulder. The next person he sees will get some friendly advice:] Do not bother reading that tripe. It is very poorly-researched.
[Scenario Two]
[Well, this is just great. Lost in a forest and surrounded by the maddening sound of a child's laughter. Richtofen glares up at the cover of trees above his head, as if the source of the noise is coming from somewhere above him.]
You cannot fool me, Samantha! I-- Augh!
[The snapping of a twig behind him alerts him to someone else's presence. He whips around and puts a hand to the holster on his belt, pulling out... nothing. He stares at his empty hand with a sour look.]
Oh, right. Listen-- If you are here to attack me, give me a moment, ja? I need to find something suitable to stab you with.
I hadn't given it a try yet. Do you have better research than these?
[Truth is, Itachi hasn't really been able to read them yet. The titles alone give him more difficulty than he likes putting on display. But he's fully interested in information, and the more sources he collects it from, the more he can start to put together what's probably true.
He doesn't go so far as to actively squint at the man addressing him, but he strains his vision as much as he (subtly!) can, trying to make out and commit to memory his features. That distinctive accent will surely help as well.]
Another pamphlet rustled as it was pressed into his hands, and Itachi gave up the attempt to argue against it being offered. He hadn't yet had a proper chance to sit down and try and read the things -- if he even could. Apparently the locals were more nervous about potential monsters, and more focused on trying to get him fully informed that he was going to turn into one, than they were focused on paying attention to the way his dark eyes failed to focus on them, the way he moved more by touch and sound than by sight. He disliked the idea of openly telling strangers how incapacitated he was; polite declines were all he would give until he felt better situated. At least he had some fragment of his vision left.
Finally, he found himself a quiet place, an out of the way corner where he could bring one of the pamphlets up close to his face, squinting to try and make sense of it. The type was cramped, and it looked somewhat amateurish, but the title on it was legible enough like this. So You're Turning Into A Monster, it read, complete with what seemed to be an artistic rendering of... something. A human torso sprouting from a spider's body?
He leafed through the pamphlet, squinting. You've been fished out of the sea as a stranger, it read, And your home is nothing like this world. What does this mean? Unfortunately, it means there are many changes in store for you! Every newcomer has transformed into some type of hideous, man-eating monster!! So that you are prepared, and hopefully do not go on a rampage, please read the following tips and advice so that you can be properly prepared for the changes that are coming upon you! This pamphlet has been specially prepared for you by ______, who hopes you will keep this helpful advice in mind! In the blank, a name was scrawled by a decidedly messy hand; Itachi was able to determine that it started with a T, but the rest was too much of a mess for him to decipher.
Footsteps approached him, and he hastily let his hand with the pamphlet drop away, instinct to hide his weakness coming to the fore. "If you're coming to offer me another pamphlet," he said aloud, assuming the stranger was another of the nervous townsfolk, "I have plenty, thank you. On the other hand, a meal would not go amiss." If they were going to try and get on his good side, he might as well take advantage of it.
[B - Transformation: Manticore]
He'd been warned, of course, right from the first day. Those ridiculous pamphlets, the townsfolk's nervous babble, and the experiences of those who had arrived previously, all of the above served to let him know in no uncertain terms that sooner or later, he would be changing.
He'd rather hoped it wouldn't come on him while he was out and about, though. Curled up at home, by himself, where he could endure his body reshaping itself without having to be in the public eye -- that would have been the most merciful way for this change to come on him. But then -- when had fate ever shown him any mercy?
No, he was out, on his way back from the job he'd found, when pain seemed to abruptly engulf his entire body. Pain in his head, as though someone were tearing at his scalp -- pain at the base of his spine, like the time he'd broken his tailbone on a mission but far, far more intense -- pain especially at his back, as though both shoulderblades were melting and tearing through his skin.
He fell to his knees, unable to bear it -- for the first moment, unable to really think about what was happening. But the moment he felt his ears shifting shape under his clutching hands, he suddenly understood, a bolt of mental clarity that cut through the pain.
I'm changing.
He forced himself to his feet, feeling his ears shifting to a triangle shape, feeling hairs sprout under his fingers -- feeling his shirt and coat, and the waist of his pants, all grow tight as new appendages tried to force themselves out through clothing not designed for them. And when his cry of pain finally forced itself from his lips, it wasn't so much a human cry as it was a yowl.
That was just before his shirt finally tore, and he simply abandoned his coat, freeing the rapidly-growing wings that erupted from his back -- bare at first, comically naked, but quickly sprouting the beginnings of black feathers. Feline ears, corvine wings... and was that a tail sprouting, trapped in his pants? It felt like it, with a hard exoskeleton pressing into his flesh. Just what was he turning into?
There was no pride left; he staggered toward he first person he saw. "Please... help me... I need to get home." Once at home, he could endure the rest of this alone.
[C - Transformation: Harpy]
The first hint of a change had been the remarkable return of his eyesight -- as much as Itachi had rejoiced in that, he'd also been properly wary. Change wasn't good, not here.
The feathers had come while he was asleep -- he'd awakened in the morning to find his sheets covered in blood and fallen hair, his skin aching across his shoulders, upper arms, upper back, and scalp where he now wore a covering of slick, faintly iridescent black. And then the wings had come, bursting forth over the course of an agonizing night that he'd spent mostly curled on the floor.
And now a new desire had taken hold, a new instinct that called him upward. It was time to try flying.
He climbed to the top of a tree, as high as he could go (the trees were pitifully small here, compared to what he was used to in the Fire Country, but he'd found the tallest he he could) and stood there a moment, shirtless, spreading his new black wings and testing the winds. He could sense them now, could know that today would stay sharply windy all day, steady strong sweeps of air instead of turbulent gusts, and knowing instinctively that this was a good day to fly.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and leaped into empty air.
He heard the yowl of agony from all the way down the street--it was hard not to, at this time of the evening. People were hurrying home before the sun set, and the streets were fairly deserted. Day-dwellers were going home or already safely locked away, night-dwellers were only just starting to stir, and those lucky enough to be able to come and go as they pleased, regardless of the encroaching darkness..... well, if only for the moment, the town belonged to them.
He wasn't sure he should get involved--that had sounded bad, and while he rarely shied from a good fight, he's by far more skittish than he used to be, especially without Samehada or his chakra. Had one of those cat-things gotten into a fight with someone else, or gotten ambushed by humans who wanted to make the streets a little safer? He should probably at least check, just in case it was something he should know about. If humans (how easy had it been, to slip so utterly out of considering them his kindred? He'd always been a monster, set apart and different--Vandere and its changes had only cemented that notion in his mind, once and for all, like nails driven into a coffin.) were organizing to fight back, then he needed to be aware of it to be extra careful. If not.....
It never hurt to have someone owe him a favor. Probably not several someones, he suspects he would have heard any others by now.
It might be hard to recognize the person approaching at a quick trot, even as Itachi staggered closer--Kisame might not have changed nearly as much as some people, but the changes were fairly profound, given Itachi's vision. A distinct greenish tint to already blue skin, pointed ears, a good foot of extra height added to his already towering stature, the distinct rhythmic clop of hooves rather than footsteps..... It only took one good look to horrify him, seeing Itachi here, of all people, and in such a miserable state. He snorted out a sharp whuff of air, reaching out to steady him with a hand on each shoulder--if Itachi couldn't keep his footing, then he'd just hold him up, it wasn't as though he was exactly heavy.
Several long, seaweed-like tendrils snaked out from under the bottom of his own shirt and coat, quickly working to unfasten Itachi's pants and slide them--and everything else--down to let his growing tail escape. They hovered poised to catch it, just in case; the absolute last thing either of them needed was for Itachi to accidentally poison him. At least he already seemed to have shed his shirt and coat--wings were delicate things, a heavy coat might have hurt them rather than let them tear through all at once. This looked like a very abrupt transformation..... "Where do you live?"
One [The new arrivals always seem to get some attention from the locals, and some get more attention than others.
Sun can't help but notice it when he walks out of the hospital with a group of people. The doctors inside the hospital kept giving him shifty looks and talked in hushed tones around him, telling him things like 'please remain calm' when he was so obviously not angry and the like. It's like they feared him, or at least that's the impression he got coming out of the examination room. What, this people never saw a Faunus before? His monkey tail is nothing new.
But it wasn't just the doctors. It was the same treatment outside too. People stared, talked quietly and didn't bother even passing any pamphlets when he walked by. He was trying to be nice, smile and take it easy, but maybe this place (wherever he was; didn't sound like it was on Remnant) just treated Faunus badly or had bad experiences.
It's not until he actually comes up to one of the locals passing the sheets out that he gets his answer. "Too far gone already," they said with a nod to his tail.]
What?! Too far gone for what? Gimme that... [Before they can ever protest, he snatches a pamphlet right out of their hands and balks at what's on it.] "What to Expect When You're Expecting--" To turn into a monster!? What is this?!
Three [It's been a week or so since he's been here, taking up residence in a small bachelor in the heart of Vandare for free (free! and he didn't even have to break the law for it or anything). Sun's been trying to figure out anything he can about this place, and so far there's been some things he's learned. The whole turning into monsters thing is new, and the fact that no one's heard of Remnant or knows of a way to get home is... depressing to say the least.
The fog thing though...? That Sun has laughed off. Fog, darkness, it's all the same to a Faunus and their enhanced vision. Sure, the blond has never really experienced fog before, but he's confident about it.
Except it's not really what he's expecting when it does roll in. Coming back from the market, stolen bananas in hand, the fog creeps up on him quickly, and much to his dismay, leaves him virtually wandering around blindly.
Which means he's totally bumping into people.] Ack-- Sorry! Can't see where I'm going, ehehehe...
Four; Wendigo [He's never, ever felt like this before. Lethargic, tired and sore. Sun's always been healthy, fit and strong, and always recovered quickly even after fights. He can't even remember the last time he got sick.
Which means, him being out in town and having chest pains? Probably is not a good thing. There was hope that getting some fresh air and going for a walk would help him and make him feel better, but it's just making things worse. His feet are heavy, his head feels like someone's trying to hammer nails into his skull and it's enough to get him to stop on the sidewalk and slump against a building wall in a cold sweat.
Is this part of the changes that everyone was talking about?]
Man, they weren't kidding about those change... things... [A light, playful smile, even though this is hardly a good situation.] ...This sucks.
Bonus! Faerie-style [Some monsters have new dietary needs. Some can only deal with meat. Others with energy and souls. Sun has been dealt the later hand, but that is not stopping him from trying to enjoy the foods he really likes.
Namely fruit.
So, you could be around a fruit tree in the forest, or have a bowl of fruit at home. Wherever you are and whatever you're doing, there's a quiet buzz and the sight of a tiny golden boy with dragonfly wings and a monkey tail buzzing around your current food source.]
[Weiss has been keeping an eye out on the crowd, for any familiar voices or familiar faces. She's hoping not to hear anyone, but of course she wouldn't be that lucky. Between the horns, the moonstones growing out of her shoulders, the ears, and the fingernails, she looks pretty different.]
They probably think you started to turn already.
[She shakes her head slightly.]
The brochures don't get it exactly right, but the general idea is there. The things they don't tell you are a lot worse than what they do.
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graveyardsmash2015-01-18 12:24 am
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