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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! |
no subject
( No offense taken; she's a lady and she'd asked politely, hadn't she? Please, Rick. It will take a lot more than that to earn her ire. )
Why would that be sexist? I do have a few in my hair if you think you can reach. They're behind my ear.
(
Don't try to nibble her like someone else did.She'll bend as far forward as the chains allow if he thinks he can, near enough to his hands as possible. Her own won't pull up far enough, but perhaps leaning to the side will help.It's an aborted motion when another scream begins— perhaps the man had passed out from before instead of expiring— and she practically feels the tension radiating from Rick. She bumps to his shoulder instead. )
All right now, we have to focus. What's your name? I'm Angela.
( She can help keep him on track. This is for all their benefits, after all. Maybe even that poor man they can still hear screaming. )
no subject
Me? I'm Rick. I like your name. [Again, goofy smile.] Do you have the pin? Quicker we do this, more people we get out. [He's calmer than a normal person would be but still frazzled and haggard sounding.]
no subject
You win. She's worried about you. )
Well, lucky for you, I have a need for keeping the hair off my nape. And it's very nice to meet you, Rick; I'm quite fond of your name as well. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances. ( Her voice is calm and soft, not overtly I'm being soothing but certainly making the attempt to see him easing. It quirks almost playfully with the gentle upturn of her accent, Germanic. He's spooked and didn't catch what she'd said earlier; likely too focused on everything else around them. ) They're in my hair and I can't reach.
( Hands shackled to the floor, down between her knees and all. Lovin this prison experience, 4 out of 5 stars. Docked 1 star for scarin her new friend here. )
If I lean forward, can you reach?
no subject
What? Yeah! [Rick scoots on the dirty floor, moving up to sit on his legs. He hovers behind Angela and reaches for the pin in her hands. It's a messy movement and he's trying really hard, so he knocks into her a little bit.]
Sorry! But I got it, get ready.
no subject
Which is to say, she's taking being a prisoner quite well, all things considered. It might be old hat for her at this point. It's certainly not the first time for her, though it was usually just being held at gunpoint by some frightened kids forming a militia trying to protect their villages and blackmail some medical supplies.
She takes the shuffling and the bumping with good nature, remaining steady as she cranes and allows him the bobby pins he needs to (hopefully) see at least somebody free. )
You're just fine. At least you're warm.
( Which might be half the reason she turns and presses her back to his side; really, she's offering him some cover to do his work in case any guards walk by. They won't be able to see his hands unless they enter the cell and come all the way around. )
So what is it you do when you're not in prison, Rick?
no subject
He lifts his shackled hands up to his mouth and bends one of the pins with his teeth. This will prove difficult, because he doesn't have much range of motion in his hands. Rick notices what Angela is doing by blocking him, and feels confident.]
I work for a secret government agency that has alien weapons and super soldiers. You?
[Rick listens to her while concentrating on getting the shackle to click. A few moments after she speaks, the shackle falls off him.]
Okay, I'm going to do yours. Can you fight?
no subject
The least she can do is keep his work from sight in the event of any passing guards; worst case scenario, she'll just pretend to faint backwards over his hands. It's better than the alternative. Death and all. )
My. Is that so? ( She thinks he's kidding, honestly. "Alien weapons"?? They've barely begun colonization research on the moon! ) I used to know some super soldiers myself. Now I'm just in war relief efforts putting my surgical skills to good use, I hope. My government agency wasn't very secret. It was an international peacekeeping force.
( Used to, was— all past tense. Not by choice, unfortunately. She hears that click behind her and there's a minute twitch as she glances back, offering him a little smile on congratulations. )
I know my way around some CQC.
( Pacifist she may be, she knows how to defuse a situation. )
no subject
He tries to be careful as not to pull on her wrists, knowing for a fact that they are tight and uncomfortable.]
A doc, huh? I knew a couple of those. Never a medical one, though.
[Doc Samson was a psych. Banner was a scientist. There was a myriad of geniuses back home, he just didn't fit in with them. He was the plucky sidekick. The kid. Except this kid was in this thirties now.]
Haha, CQC. Yeah, this is pretty close quarters.
[Then there's the satisfying CLICK.]
You're free, Miss Angela.
no subject
Is that so? Well, there are many sorts of doctors, at least. I mostly work with cybernetics and prosthetics and a bit of restorative work. It's very fulfilling being able to give someone their mobility and confidence back.
( She doesn't mean to ramble; it's difficult to maintain when she can't see her conversational partner behind her, but the relief is immediate as one cuff unlocks and suddenly that pressure clamped about her wrist is gone. Then the other, and she's tentative as she brings her hands back forward.
There's a crick in both shoulders. Still, she sighs her relief out and wrists at the reddened skin, turning to offer him sincere gratitude in her smile. And in the hand that comes to rest at his shoulder, giving him a little squeeze. )
Thank you, Rick. And what's so funny about CQC? A bit of Krav Maga and Aikido take you a good ways.
no subject
Cybernetics! Cool! [He sounds legit excited.]
You're welcome, Angela. And uh-- I just thought it was funny that a doctor knew the acronym CQC. And I actually was learning Krav Maga before I--
[The man who has been dragging people from the cell darkens the doorway once more. He immediately sees Angela and Rick and the fact that they're not shackled to the floor anymore.]
no subject
The excitement over her line of work nets him an easy smile, indulging and warm— she supposes it is quite cool, yes. )
They're much kinder on the body than traditional prosthetics, thankfully. Have you ever seen any?
( Oh right, of course. "Do no harm" and all. )
Well, I spent quite some time with an international peacekeeping force filled with the best of the best from all over the world. Many of them were soldiers. It was part of the curriculum once I began participating in war relief and we were in dangerous locations.
( He's telling her about learning Krav Maga himself when he suddenly stops, and the sudden shadow over the cell tells her all she needs to know even before she's turning around. Her eyes widen, a fraction scared even knowing this is just a simulation— it hadn't made the cold iron feel any less real clamped about their wrists, which meant the pain of imminent execution would feel just the same.
Not a prospect she's interested in exploring. The bolted-down loops the chains ran through wouldn't fit the shackles to pull through and use as a weapon, so they're restricted to what they have on their persons.
It doesn't leave much beyond "their persons". Bobby pins weren't exactly made for poking into eyes. The guard snarls, more to intimidate the other prisoners into sitting back down than to vent his displeasure with them, but it also draws the attention of others. Angela doesn't know what Rick will do, but she knows what she's going to do.
Sorry, Rick. You said you were still learning, so she takes the lead and bolts toward the guard before he can make much more noise, trying to get him to grab for her to use that arm and pull him down with the twist of her body. The bigger they are, the easier it is to knock the wind from their lungs when dropped flat on their backs. )
no subject
The man snarls and Angela goes straight for him. Again, Rick has no qualms with a lady fighting his battles for him, but he can't let her fight alone. Nothing to do with gender, just to do with the fact that he really likes her and doesn't want her to die as quickly. And he doesn't mind fighting dirty. One of the chains is long enough to throw around the guard's neck. If only Angela could get him closer.]
Ange!
[He gestures with his head towards the length of chain in his hand. He'll choke a bitch to death if he has to.]
no subject
Angela makes like she's going to bolt for the open door under the guard's arm, forcing him to twist to grab for her, but she's smaller and quicker— she latches over it, braces it to her side, and uses his twisting motion and the upset of a leg to drop him hard.
It didn't quite knock the wind from his lungs, but it did leave him stumbling to catch his footing and ending up that much closer to Rick.
She drops onto his chest to pin his arms as best she can and hopes he can reach with that length of chain. She's sure he's only doing his job, but "doing his job" could have easily ended when he saw people being tortured.
Instead, he came into the cell grinning as he picked out someone new. That was inexcusable. Whatever Rick can assist her in, here, would never be forgotten. She doesn't take life easily. Perhaps they could just leave him unconscious. )
sry this took so long, i was nervous about writing asskicking
Are we killing this guy?
[His tone is strained, his question rushed. Rick has had to kill before and would kill again to get out of the simulation-- wait, this is a simulation! It's as if a lightbulb pops up over his head and he suddenly looks mean and puts more force into choking the life out of the guard.]
that's ok!! if it makes you uncomfortable we can skip over it!
When Rick turns to ask her for direction, that's when she hesitates— there's a brief flash of horror at the thought, eyes widening, but she's halfway through her reply when she realizes much the same. )
It may be necessary for the simula— ...tion, no, of course. It shouldn't matter. He's not real. Not anymore.
( That flash gutters out immediately, instead looking intently at Rick and that sudden streak in him as she holds someone down for him to kill. Teamwork makes the dream work, or something like that. Instead, she thinks she doesn't want to see him kill someone. )
Hey... Unconscious should be enough.
( If this isn't something he wants to do. It isn't something she wants to do, either, simulation or not. )