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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
As such, Molly has more questions now than answers.] Well, whether you are or not, the boiling alive process was actually deeply traumatizing for how not real this is supposed to be, so let's consider other options, shall we? [He wraps the chains around his arms a bit and begins to try and pull himself up with them, hoping to tear the brackets from the wall.
This doesn't work because he is very much quick and nimble and not strong at all, so it looks like he's doing the world's most bondage-friendly pull-up and sucking at it. That's what he gets for being a dick.]
no subject
[ Probably not useful right now anyway, on second thought. She goes quiet as Molly lift himself up, breath held as she awaits the telltale crack of the brackets breaking free...
Yep. ] Alright, that's fine, Plan B. C? J? I've actually gone through a lot of Plans, but that's not important.
Have you got...
one of those hair things? Pins? Anything pin-like?
no subject
He pushes himself a little closer, jutting a hip out slightly to reveal a gaudy silk pouch under his coat. He doesn't have his swords, but weirdly the simulation left him with all the stuff he can't use in an escape... unless lizard people have a deathly allergy to incense.] I've probably got a hairpin or an earring in there somewhere, if you can get at it.
[Not easily, probably, but at least he's flexible enough to sort of twist around and get it closer than most people could. It's all in the hips.]
no subject
Almost! [ But it's really not; the chain's too short, too high. Time to change tack. She swings herself forward, making another grab for the pouch... with her mouth.
And this time, somehow, succeeds. Silk held tight between her teeth, she yanks it off him and beams proudly, ] Mm-h! 'M I g'd or wh'?
no subject
That's... actually really impressive. [They look like they're performing bizarre interpretive dance over here, and that's actually kind of awesome. And they say the circus isn't educational. Fuck you, small-minded persons.] Now if you can just yank it free, we might be getting somewhere. Also- [And here he pauses to adjust his posture so he doesn't slip off his toes and rip the bag from her teeth.] -this has to be the most interesting situation I've ever been in with a person I haven't been properly introduced to. Well done.
im crying
With a hearty tug, it's ripped free with enough force to spill some of its contents on their floor. Whoops. Hopefully nothing important, though! ] 'M d'Doct'r!
[ And now she's attempting to properly introduce herself to a purple person from whose hips she just pulled a silk purse, with her teeth, while chained up in a simulated dungeon. Which, to be perfectly honest, doesn't even make her top ten weirdest first meetings.
She just leads that sort of life.
Bag-in-mouth, she's able to now bring it up close enough to her chained hands to grab. ] Have you got a name?
[ She seems to be chewing on something. Possibly a stray sequin. ]
PEOPLE ARE DYING OUTSIDE THIS ROOM AND MEANWHILE....
And fortunately, the only thing in that bag worth anything besides his coin purse are a few incense sticks and some stage make-up, which is somehow not in the least bit surprising. But at least there's straight pins in there. They're even the kind with the little fake pearls too. Fancy.] Mollymauk Tealeaf, but Molly's fine. I think you've earned the right to drop the last syllable. [He lets himself drop back into a more comfortable position. He probably should've limbered up for that, but it worked.]
an executioner walks in... takes one look... grampa simpsons back out
Mollymauk Tealeaf! I love that name. Wish I was called Tealeaf.
Hang in there, Molly, shouldn't be more than a mo'...
[ She screws her face up in concentration as she sets about attempting to pick the lock on her wrist shackles with a lovely pearly hairpin. Fortunately, she is actually a dab hand at this sort of thing, having picked her way out of countless locks across countless centuries, in all manner of impossible circumstances. ]
they win the game by virtue of being too weird to function.
[The pause is because he's suddenly staring at the make-up with a spark of a brilliant idea starting to work its way into his head. This is so stupid... It'll probably work. Just like the hospital heist worked in that they didn't get caught and caused an arseload of chaos in the process. That's what they need here- not getting caught, mostly. The arseload of chaos is optional.]
I have a brilliant idea when you get done with that. It's kind of crazy, but I think we can pull it off. I feel good about it.
it's the only way they're ever gonna succeed
Molly... this is the face of a woman who's never conceived of a sane plan in her life. Chaos is never option, either, unfortunately. ]
Is it to do with show business? D'you wanna perform? [ Say no more, she's already on board. ] I've not tried it yet, but I might be really bad at singing. Loudly. I could distract the guards!
[ (Of course she's sung before... just not in this particular body.) ]
no subject
[Once his wrists come free, her snatches up the make-up case and waves it at her, the grin on his lavender face spreading into something manic and calculated.] I think I can make you look convincing.
no subject
What sort of lizard person? Silurian? Terileptil? Khellian?
[ Pulling her hair back from her face to give him better access while she rambles; lizard her up, yo. ] I know a few thousand reptilian dialects.
[ To demonstrate, she makes a series of scarily harsh, sibilating noises in what's presumably some horrible reptilian language, which shouldn't even be technically possible with her (seemingly-human) anatomy. ]
no subject
...Especially with those horrible vocalizations. Dear god, he thought Infernal was bad. He stops painting for a second to be deeply impressed, and then goes back.] ... That's actually really impressive. I don't speak lizard in any dialect, but I think we've got this. You were born for the stage.