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Entry tags:
❪ test drive #9 ❫
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YOUR STORY BEGINS  The Storm came. You remember darkness, but you don't remember much after that. You don't know how long you slept, but the dreams were short. You remember the expanse of stars and galaxies in your direct view. Every world and solar system ever known to man was present in your dreams in careful, pristine detail. You also witnessed the Storm, which has devoured a fair portion of these galaxies. Your Earth and similar planets were assimilated by the Storm. Somehow, you knew it would be the last you'd see of your world. That was when she told you what happened. You knew that you'd be living somewhere new. The details weren't clear, but you knew it was a part of a deal with the entity known as Darma - once, you might have been able to speak to her, but now you are only met with silence. When you awake, you will find yourself in Thesa Station. Your body is still cold, you're hungry, and the halls seem frighteningly bare somehow. Exploring the halls brings you to the transporter room, which will give you easy access to and from Nadril... Getting there is a quick process that leaves you feeling vaguely nauseous and out of your own body, and you can’t travel to the rest of the planet just yet, but the space station and the icy colony are yours to explore. A FORCED AWAKENING (THESA STATION)  ... But that is, of course, assuming that your awakening was a smooth one. In the best case scenario, nausea might be the worst you'd feel. For many others, the newly awakened won't be a pleasant one. In the past, the refugees will only wake when they are mentally and physically prepared for it. After all, they are in a whole new galaxy, and dimensions and time were trampled with to make the Intervention possible. Those who witnessed the storm before it devoured their own world would know as well that the Intervention hadn't been a graceful one, and it's exemplified by the way you wake. Alarms on the station will be blaring when you finally come to, siren calls and flashing light invade your already disoriented senses. You'll find yourself face-planted on the cool metallic floor among many others with you. Some, just as confused and unstable as you; others, still sleeping — they're alive, but no matter how much you try to wake them, they will not gain consciousness. Or maybe some will. It seems the best way to approach those in stasis is to put them back into their chambers in hopes that the glitch hadn't disrupted their recovery. Thesa Station has changed though, seemingly overnight. The space that surrounds the station is now in near-total darkness. Where there were once stars across billions of lightyears, it appears as though they're fading — some would flash right before your eyes. This is especially true for those with access to the Observation Room. Alarms will continue to ring as you find your way there. Once inside, you will see visible glitches in the hologram of the multiverses as a ghostly, dark fabric begins to blanket over the shining dots that represents the many stars across many galaxies. As it gathers the stars, it moves even faster. Somehow, you may feel that it's getting closer now. The impending doom of the Storm is now upon the little corner of the universes where Darma found her planet. It's only a matter of time now before the Storm finally, finally, finds El Nysa. THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT
Nadril will remain accessible once you've established footing — it may seem like a welcome change to the steel, alarms, and artificial gravity. Once you've teleported down, your devices will pick up the message from the one and only Nurray, the leader of Nadril.
True to her words, the city square where you've teleported will have been furnished with a new piece of technology. Those who are familiar with Thesa's ins and outs would recognize it as a version of the Virtual Reality machines that can be found up there, but it is made for far more people. This foreboding machine has a shining gate that allows users to simply step through it and disappear into space. However, what you're really doing, is stepping right into the past.  I. Burning Dawn — You can hear the piercing screams even before your surroundings finish rendering. Once they do, searing heat, choking smoke, and flickering flames greet you — you find yourself in the midst of a burning village, at the center of the town square. The streets are swarming with people, both peasants who seem to live here fleeing for their lives and the heavily armored troops who have fanned out throughout the village, armed with torches and spears. Those who are running speak of safety in the forest — a place of refuge, somewhere they can be protected even from these outsiders with their blades and their fire. But reaching the forest means getting past the invaders who are stationed throughout the village and at all the exits. Fight your way out, sneak your way out, or find some other solution — but to escape this simulation you must find a way out. Should you find yourself killed by the invaders, you will respawn back in the village square again, right where you started. There does not seem to be any other way to end the VR session. II. The Escape — It is bitterly cold. You find yourself as part of a caravan — and though no one explicitly says so, you know instinctively that you are traveling north. Snow crunches underneath your feet and soaks through the material of whatever it is you are wearing. There are cliff walls and caverns visible further up ahead, and the path you need to take is a long, winding road that leads to the top of those cliffs. On the horizon are dark clouds, and murmuring around you makes it clear that you all expect a storm. You have perhaps half an hour before it is expected to hit. What you do with that time is up to you, but should you fail to prepare properly and succumb to exposure, the next thing you know you find yourself within the caravan once more, a chill in your soul as you stare out at the approaching storm. Thirty minutes... III. Crime — "Catch!" Someone calls that word out to you, and a moment later, a small wrapped package is dropped into your arms. There is a flurry of movement from somewhere behind you, and suddenly, men garbed in Olympian insignias — older than the versions worn in Olympia these days, but still recognizable — appear, brandishing swords at you. "Stop! Thief!" If the guards catch you, the scenery around you will distort, and you will find yourself back at the start of the simulation, with a package thrown into your arms. But if you flee, if you evade the guards for long enough through the twists and turns of the Olympian markets of hundreds of years ago, and manage to lose them... When you come out of the VR session, you find yourself gripping a small trinket of some kind — an antique bracelet, or perhaps a goblet, or some other bauble of Olympian make. It is very old, and it is yours to keep. IV. ...And Punishment — The rattling of chains fills your ears as the walls of some kind of cell form themselves around you. There are shackles around your wrists, connected to chains which are bolted to the stones hemming you in. There are others chained here with you, and as you begin to process what you're seeing, someone enters the cell. It's a large, imposing man with scale-like skin, and he takes one of the others in your cell and hauls them away. Minutes later, from outside, you hear screaming — and then utter silence. The man will return in thirty-minute intervals, dragging the inhabitants of the cell away for execution until he gets to you. If you do nothing, you will meet your end in a variety of ways — beheaded by an axe, perhaps, or drawn and quartered, or boiled alive. Should that happen, you will awake in the cell again, until you find a way to free yourself and escape. V. Castaways — The tang of sea salt fills the air as the image of the ocean builds itself around you. You find yourself on the deck of a ship, sailing away from the isles of El Nysa, toward the thick, thick fog that has kept everyone fenced in for so long. "It's never been done before, crew," shouts a man with a thick beard, wearing the clothes of a captain. "But today, we'll be the first! Full speed ahead!" The ship sails directly into the fog, and it seeps in around you, obscures your vision and becomes so thick that it's almost hard to breathe. But you can hear the waves breaking on the ship's hull, and everything is fine. Until it's not. Until the sound of the waves breaking is the sound of waves crashing, until the wind whips around you and howls but does not clear away the fog. There's a sickening crunch as the mast cracks and twists and falls, shattering the deck and sending you and everyone around you into the icy cold depths of the sea. The isles are back the way you came, but can you make it? Try — because should you sink to the depths of the sea, you'll only find yourself on the ship's deck again once you open your eyes. INVISIBLE WIRES
While there are no apparent seasons in the everwinter of Nadril, the diverse flora is not all year round. Now, with the coming of the most distant moon of the year, there grows a beautiful red vine. It snakes upwards from the ice, bright red against the glowing scenery. Growing along houses, coiled up tree trunks, and spidering over the ground, the plant is resilient and quickly adapts to any terrain.
It's quite the sight to behold, but get close and the veinlike roots fade, becoming entirely invisible. Like this, the vine ensnares its prey. A small tendril wraps around your finger, your neck, or burrows into your chest to entwine your heart. Each plant chooses two hosts in this way, binding them together with a sharp ache that becomes more severe the greater the distance between them grows. You may be alone when afflicted, left to suffer the night wandering to find your other half to soothe the pain. The vine withers after about 24 hours, leaving behind no trace, however, resisting its pull has been known to draw blood from the most stubborn obstinate victims. FINAL OOC NOTES
As always, feel free to wildcard prompts within Thesa Station and Nadril!
These threads may be carried over as game canon if players choose. Players are encouraged to submit TDM threads as application samples, but they are not required. Please direct any OOC questions to the questions thread below. Players may submit an AC-length thread HERE from this TDM for two (2) Natha REP. The due date for submission is January 20th, 11:59 PM EST. Due to the plot-relevancy of this TDM, current players are able to play these prompts in-game in their own logs. However, only threads involving a perspective player may be used for Natha REP. For this application cycle, there will be a cap of 60 and no reserves. Applications will be open on January 2nd at 12:01 AM EST and close on January 4th, 11:59 PM EST. Thank you! |
iv.
He's fixating on the door with narrowed eyes when one of his fellow prisoners leans in. He was... sort of taking it for granted that these people aren't just nameless, generic illusions. There's real people in here too. He blinks and then shakes himself out of his state. This is a plan. Plans are good. Thank you, pretty lady, for distracting him from how much he doesn't want to face death again.] They're not really my niche, but I haven't had luck with anything else so far. [He's a little exasperated and desperately missing Nott. He leans in a bit, trying to find the indicated place and choosing to grab for it with his teeth rather than his manacled hands.] I'll try not to nibble on your ear in the process, unless that would be comforting right now.
[Weirdly, not the most awkward thing he's ever tried to do. The trick is not getting a lot of hair in his mouth in the process... which definitely happens the first time he tries to get his teeth around the bobby pin. He's TRYING, okay.]
I'm DYING
While she's never seen anyone quite like whoever is sat beside her before (on either side; goodness knows who's on her left), they've given her no reason to be apprehensive, either. Horns or no. The red eyes are a bit unnerving, but the rest of the person to her right just looks... well, like a costume. And they'd been surrounded by all walks of life once they'd zapped down from the station. Angela is nothing if not optimistic on behalf of others, offering him (him? them? she hasn't quite looked) what could just as easily be her neck.
(You're quite welcome, colorful stranger.)
He says "anything else" and it gets a curious pique from her, head tipping just a fraction in interest, glancing to her right (though he's quite blurry in her peripheral). )
What else have you tried? Have you been through this before...? What's happened?
( She'd heard of others cycling through these simulations. At the mention of nibbling her ear, however... Forgive her the quiet little laugh it earns under her breath. It's only a little nervous. )
"Any port in a storm" is the saying, isn't it? I'm Angela.
( Since they're about to get so personal. She'll crane over as much as possible, tipping down to allow him the easiest access she can. If he feels her trembling, it's only because he's tickling her ear with his nose and she's trying very hard not to laugh. )
because imminent VR death is excellent time for shenanigans.
He manages to get the pin into his hand so he can start working on his manacles.] Mollymauk, but people whose necks I breathe on inadvertently can call me Molly. And to answer your question... Well, I tried waiting until they came and got me and then fought them. That was a terrible idea... Actually, most of the things I tried were variations on that. I didn't have anything to pick a lock with before now.
[Not that having something is making him expedient. As he struggles, another one of those snake (lizard?? reptilian-adjacent??) men comes in and Molly freezes, hiding the bobby pin and holding his breath. His eyes pass over both him and Angela and go to one of the people across from him. The man screams and begs and Molly can't help but feel a brief pang of sympathy- only brief though. If they're not part of the "game," then their fate is already sealed and if they are... well, they'll be back.
He lets out the breath he was holding.] Well, that poor bastard bought us another twenty minutes.
look you won't find me arguing, sorry for the mouthful of hair tho
Molly... well then, it's a pleasure. I certainly don't expect people to call me "doctor" even with a scalpel in hand, much less while we're imprisoned.
( Then it's her turn to listen, trying to keep her eyes up on what she can see outside the cell. When a shadow creeps down the hall toward them, her knee bumps his in silent warning just in time for keys to jangle. She thought there'd be more time between the appearance and his turning the corner, but no. The candlelight must have been right at the corner itself.
Angela visibly feels more than a brief pang of sympathy— she's an empathetic creature down to the marrow, and her nails are digging into her palms as her eyes dilate, brows pinched, leaning ever-so-slightly forward as if she could reach out and take that man's hand in passing. Like one last human touch of kindness.
She can't lift them more a couple of inches. He's gone to the clang of the cell door and the reverberation of the bars, and simulation or not, it isn't easy for her to watch someone get dragged off.
Had he been real? Or just a memory? She's biting her lip by the time Molly interrupts her thoughts, and she has to force herself to unwind as she eases back against damp stone. A sliver of her radiance seems to have left with the other prisoner. )
...Mm, he has. Memory or no, we ought to make it worth it. ( A beat, and then: ) I apologize, you were saying— you'd been taken before?
( That worry only swells further. Doesn't that mean he'd been subjected to whatever torture they're carrying out as well...? )
no subject
Watching her trying to reach for the man being taken away out of the corner of his eye is heartening- sometimes it's harder to watch another person be helpless in atrocity than it is to be the one helpless. He knows his limits and what he can and can't do. Other people aren't always so lucky. She could be one of them. She looks like the type on a cold read.
He actually meets her gaze when he hears the implied question underneath the spoken one and gives her a lopsided smile that is such a dark shadow to the grin he gave her before.] A few times. They don't give you the same execution twice and they don't really explain what it's for either, so I've got nothing helpful to offer there.
[Finally, finally the cuff snaps open and Molly lets his arm drop with relief. He huffs, and looks at her cuffs and his one remaining and switches the bobby pin to his other hand.] Three to go.
no subject
Angela isn't necessary one who doesn't know her limits, so much as someone that empathizes with others strongly and immediately. Molly's worldview would be a boon to her this very moment. They have to remember what they're here for, and that the past is the past. That there's nothing she can do for a man who died hundreds of years ago. They're in an echo of a memory, no matter how real the cold iron feels about her wrists.
The difference in his smiles isn't lost on her. It's the first time she really thinks he could be dangerous, even if she doesn't feel it directed at her— she doesn't so much as flinch meeting his eyes. Instead, she offers him that empathy in her expression and the press of her arm to his, as if contact could send her sincerity home. )
I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring it back up for you. Are you alright?
( She doesn't even care about the progress on the lock-picking, now that he's admitted to that. )
no subject
[The second lock clicks and Molly's other hand drops into his lap and instantly he feels so much better. He shakes out both wrists, and then moves into Angela's space to start undoing her bonds.] And we might be on the verge of that. I don't suppose you have anything sharp on you? It can be ridiculous- I just need something that can cut.
I hope you can see me doing magical hypnosis hands so u pretend I know what I'm talkin about
Have you done these simulations before? What happens after...? Can you recall it as vividly?
( She's almost reaching to rub at his wrists for him— old habits, dying hard, etc etc— but he's trying to free her and she curls her fingers back from a game attempt to still, meeting him halfway. )
Something sharp...? Hm. ( She usually has a swiss army knife (hah) on her, at the very least, but she feels like that's the sort of thing that would have been confiscated. She's not exactly in her—
—Oh. Wait, if it's a simulation, their real clothes should still count, right? So even if it doesn't look like they're wearing the same things, perhaps if she can reach for her pack, she can get it anyway. ) I might, provided I can access what I came in with. Worst case, we can probably file the end of one of these pins down on the stone.
no subject
I'd probably just use my nails at that point. Probably about the same effect. [Still, he's slipping it into his errant mess of purple curls for now just to hold onto it.] I might just have to be bold and steal a knife from one of those scaly fuckers outside.
no subject
( Which is to ask, are they on the right track this time, or are they doing something that's failed before? Either way, she doesn't seem too bothered. She's quite good at keeping a cool head even if her worry wears through. He manages to free her and she's quiet as she catches the shackles and sets them down beneath their bench, rubbing at her wrists and sighing gratefully.
As for her fix, well. She reaches back, trying to access the pack she knows she was wearing "in real life", but she can't seem to register it. Nope, no swiss army knife, then. She only shakes her head and sighs again, not nearly as relieved this time. )
Nothing sharp, I'm sorry. Were you thinking to use it as a weapon against them...?
no subject
[He stands, double checking to make sure his blades aren't secretly on him, but they aren't. Lovely.] Almost anything can be intimidating and stabby if I can cut with it. We'll just improvise.
[He holds out a hand to help her up.]
no subject
( Sharp as a tack, after all. It's a gentle tease as he gives himself a pat-down, then holds a hand out to her she takes with grace. There's some softened callouses along the last knuckles at her fingertips from wielding surgical tools over the years, but no rough palms from any weaponry, taking a second to stretch with her knuckles in her lower back, biting back a soft noise as her pulse pounds in her ears from the compression on her spine, sitting here all these hours.
Don't mind her giving you a glance-over, checking that you're all right. )
Right, so now what are we to do...? I can't say I've ever broken out of prison before. Hide and try to slip through when the guard comes next?
no subject
Something like that? I've never tried, myself, considering I avoid being arrested as a general rule. That sounds solid though. [He points to a small alcove located near the door, shadowed and hidden so that the next guard that comes in might not notice them in its blindspot.] That looks promising, doesn't it? Lizard-arsehole walks in, and we slip by.
no subject
Keep it positive, Ange. He points out the dip in the natural stone of the walls she'd mistaken for shadowing— she's never seen anything that wasn't a flawless manmade structure, after all, poured concrete in thick slabs and reinforced to deter escape— so it may just work. )
So long as no one has that philosophy that promises are made to be broken, yes, I'd agree. It looks promising. No one else in the simulation seems to really notice us unless we make a big commotion, either.
( Small miracles, that. She checks the surrounding and listens for any guards before slipping over to that little nook in the wall, making herself as small and deep in the shadows as possible.
It's difficult when she's pale and light-haired. Thankfully, there's just enough room for them both, it seems. Come cuddle— I mean, huddle. )
no subject
Right. Mind the tail. 'S got a mind of its own some days. [He hisses out in a whisper. He can hear the grumbling and muttering of lizardfolk coming down the hall now. Excellent.] Here they come.
no subject
Oh, phew. Still strange, but she can deal with it. Must be nice to be so readily accepting of nice demon men with horns and tails who try to eat your hair on the DL. )
Oh, of course. So long as it doesn't try anything funny.
( Angela STOP. Thankfully, he's bringing attention to the guard coming down the hall and she nods behind him, falling silent, breath measured. Keys in the lock, and the door slides open. It's easy to tell which prisoner the guard's going for. All eyes in the cell fall on whoever the guard looks at, circling from right to left, then back again. Finally, all those eyes stop and the man chosen begins to struggle and yell.
Her fingertips press to Molly's elbow in silent question. Go now? )
no subject
So funny story, I'm not entirely sure if there's an exit... or if there's supposed to be one. If this is a puzzle, it's deeply complicated.
no subject
She remembers the myth about labyrinths, where if you put your hand on the right wall, you can always follow it to the center. The same works in reverse when you're at the center, leading you back out.
What can it hurt? It's their best bet with no others on the table. )
—Right! Let's just see where we end up.
( They can looney tunes book it the opposite direction if need be. )