Test Drive 20 (August & September)

[sixthiteration]

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Test Drive

→ Holds and applications are always open. Holds are required for all applications.

→ Choose one of the scenarios below or make up your own. Feel free to try multiple scenarios.

→ Write LOGS or TEXT prompts, or both.

→ THERE ARE ONLY THREE RULES FOR THE TDM:

1. It has to take place in the 6I universe.
2. It cannot be the character's arrival into the game.
3. Please only test new characters who do not have a version in the game. Our cast list is here.

→ TDM threads cannot be used to meet AC, but if the character is accepted into the game and both players agree, you may keep the CR.

→ Character want ads are here.

Prompts

Happy anniversary, villagers! Buckle up!

1. HEAT WAVE - Poor you. All you were trying to do was get yourself a little something to eat from the kitchen at the inn. Maybe you cooked it up yourself (The inn does, after all, have an electric stove — FANCY!), or maybe you just grabbed some leftovers. By accident or on purpose, you ended up with way more RED SALT in there than you maybe should have, and this is no ordinary seasoning. Whether you like things eye-wateringly spicy or not, it's August, you're sweating buckets, and it's only getting worse.


2. SKUNK DRUNK - Isn't that just the way? You're out and about, minding your own business, and you get sprayed by a BROWN SKUNK. The good news? It doesn't stink like a normal skunk. The also possibly good news, depending on who you ask? You're now in for about 5 hours of being very, very friendly. (Just remember to keep the test drive PG!)


3. BRAIN CANDY - Whether you made it to the anniversary party or not, you've gotten your hands on a piece of leftover candy from the big bash. Careful, though, these treats are more than meets the eye: Whatever COLOR it was, you've now taken on the associated personality traits. (Not the power, just the traits.) At least it only lasts 10 minutes.


4. WILDCARD - Choose your own adventure. Maybe play powers roulette.

Texts

All characters are fitted with a smart watch-like device on their left wrist, which they can use to send text messages to other villagers.

- Texts may only be 140 characters long
- No video or voice, text only
- Display names may be changed by characters on the fly, but anyone can tap to see someone's real full name

Please list your CHARACTER NAME, CANON & PROMPT in your SUBJECT LINE.

Comments

[nifties]

Oh, that's a cigarette. It's hard to keep the wanton look from his face as he stares at it, almost like he doesn't notice the man it's attached to. The demand brings him back around though, offering a wide, insincere smile for Vaquez and shoving his hands into the pockets of his scrubs. That's not nearly as satisfying as it is in slacks, but beggars can't be choosers, can they?

"Hell." He sounds entirely too sincere. Cheerful, really.

[quinientos]

Vasquez doesn't actually react to that, mostly because he thought he'd been in his own version of it. Hell for him involved sleeping with corpses, no food or touch, and a terrible offer sounding like a good one just because of that.

"Congratulations on finding slightly less hell," he deadpans, tucking the cigarette back into his mouth, eyeing the man in his red scrubs, gesturing with a flick of his fingers. "You have the same ones as I do." Even if he's not wearing them right now, it's the same.

[nifties]

His lips upturn at the commentary, nodding his understanding. Slightly less Hell sounds worse than real Hell, if only because he doesn't know the score yet. He glances at his red communicator and back to Vasquez's as it comes into view with the motion. Interesting. Ish.

"Don't suppose that earns me a ciggy from a red brother?" he asks hopefully, licking his lips in an all too overt way.

[quinientos]

Does that alone? Maybe not. But the man is handsome enough and he talks about hell, which means that he's probably got a new friend because his life isn't exactly walks in the park. Gesturing to the seat beside him, that's as much as he'll give for his confirmation, but he still takes his foot off the beam so he can grab a new cigarette from the brim of his hat to hand it over to the other man.

"I didn't get to suddenly appear places, though," he says, like this is a grievance. "How did you do that?"

[nifties]

John settles in, perhaps slightly closer than he needs to be, snatching the cigarette and immediately letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. he starts patting his chest for his lighter except - oh right. "Bollocks," he mutters, concentrating and snapping his fingers instead, but nothing as usual. No fire, apparently he's a one trick pony now. "Don't suppose you've got a light, too?"

He's not really the survivalist in nature type, at least, not without his magic. Teleporting is fun and all, but it doesn't actually help him do much, except maybe run away.

"Fuck if I know, squire. I didn't even chant."

[quinientos]

Vasquez doesn't care about the proximity, maybe even leans a little into it because he's the kind of desperate for it that he's always been, but here, people help him out. He digs out the matches to strike up a light, protecting the flame in his hands and coaxing the other man to lean in for the light.

"It's Vasquez," he says, because he's no squire. "And what's chanting got to do with anything?"

[nifties]

"You're a helpful sort, aren't you, Vasquez?" he says more to remember the name than anything else. At least it's distinctive enough that he might remember anyway. John doesn't hesitate to lean in, taking a long and in his opinion well-deserved puff of pure cancer-inducing tobacco-flavored smoke. God, that has no right to be that good.

No one here seemed all that down with the mystic arts, not like he's judging. Okay, he's judging a little, but mostly just confused on how one warlock ended up in a pack full of normies unless it's all set up specifically to fuck with him. That could easily be the case, there are enough people and creatures who despise him enough to set this up, after all.

He shrugs and takes another puff, crossing his leg across his lap so that their thighs press together. There's no harm in taking what's offered, John's always found. Though even when he's wrong it doesn't stop him from trying anew. "The proper incantation has everything to do with good spell technique, mate. I would show you if I could, but this place has gone and handicapped me, it would seem."

[quinientos]

"If you want help, that's not me," Vasquez can confirm, but he maybe has an appreciation for people who smoke, and also who have the same colour as him. He wants to keep some people close to him, besides, at least he won't yell at him if he lights up somewhere like others seem to want to do.

He's not sure about the future if this is what they act like about a cigarette. He stares at the other man curiously, because the Comanche, they were like devils and witches and Vasquez would be more wary, but they had plenty of women at home who called themselves brujas and what Vasquez learned is to keep on their good side.

Most of the time. Sometimes, he can't help but run his mouth. "You could do magic? All kinds?"

[nifties]

"All kinds," he confirms evenly on an exhale, no hesitation to be found. "I would show you my business card, but I seem to have left them in my other trousers."

Along with his zippo, cigarettes, and probably a few runes he forgot were in there. All he can really do is shrug.

"Suppose I can at least appreciate that red is my color." The same color as the tie he always wore, slung low. The color of blood. John considers the man next to him a second before speaking up again. "Maybe you'd want to help me with one more thing, unhelpful Vasquez. Have you seen a beehive anywhere in town?"

[quinientos]

Vasquez hasn't got a clue in hell what a business card is supposed to be, but he thinks probably something else from the future that he doesn't get. So he shrugs and works on the cigarette instead, letting it sit in the corner of his mouth as he squints at John.

"It's just Vasquez," he retorts with a smirk. "I think maybe I might have seen one, but I don't go looking for it. Why? You miss honey, of all things the most? Or just the bees?"

[nifties]

"Well, Just Vasquez, honey is sweet but I'm after beeswax. For candles," he specifies, peering through the smoke cloud created by their combined efforts like he might see something in there that will give him answers about this place. "If I have any access to my abilities whatsoever, I should be able to uncover them with a good circle and a few candles. Sometimes, it's good to go back to our roots. Which reminds me, I'll need chalk as well. Or paint."

[quinientos]

This all sounds a bit witchier than he really is comfortable with, if Vasquez is completely honest, but at the same time, who's he to judge? "I think there was a woman here who was making candles from something, but I don't think bees." From what he can recall, he thinks maybe it had been something else.

"Animal fat? I think maybe it was animal fat." That sounded far more realistic, but then, he also wasn't a candlemaker. He could deal with a large animal, though.

[nifties]

"Interesting." It might work, though he does have his preferences. And yes, they're extremely witchy. Sorry, buddy. "Beeswax works better for scrying, but do tell. Do you remember the woman's name?"

[quinientos]

"Sorry, no," he says, bluntly, which means that he's not really sorry at all. The trouble is, of course, that he doesn't really care about some woman who used to make candles. Why should he? He's got the light at the inn, which means that he doesn't remember names.

"We can go hunt for bees," he offers. "Maybe if I find them, I can get some of the honey after you take care of the wax?"

[nifties]

John quickly puts the witch out of his mind since this man is going to help him do it his way, which is better. He nods, see, it's even a fair barter.

"You've got yourself a deal, Just Vasquez." He gestures to him with the end of his cigarette and grins broadly.

[quinientos]

Vasquez isn't even close to being done his cigarette, but also, he doesn't want to get up and go just yet, so he hopes John isn't wanting to go find his honey (he knows, he knows it's beeswax) just yet. Instead, he starts his next inhalation, lips wrapped around the cigarette as he works his lower lip around the papers.

"And when you do get your wax," he continues on, inhaling to the side and speaking around the cigarette, "What will you do first?"

[nifties]

"It's called... piercing the veil," John explains with more patience than he feels, sucking down sweet nicotine and trying not to think about how long it'll be until his next fix. "Very touchy stuff. But then I'll know exactly where - or when - how? Whichever. And I can act accordingly." To get everyone out of this pocket dimension, he means.

[quinientos]

"Why do you need to do it?" Is this an obvious question? Vasquez thinks it is. He can understand using magic to be aggressive or to defend yourself. If you can do that, why not use it to your advantage. But doing something to go to the other world? He doesn't cross himself, but he thinks about it, because it feels like it's a bad idea.

"Everyone who's been here, they've tried other things. You think going into another dimension or the undead, that will take us out? I won't be following," he says with a sure nod, exhaling smoke so he can work on finishing this cigarette to start another.

[nifties]

John edges away from him a little so they aren't touching anymore, then plants both feet on the ground and pitches forward over his knees, cigarette still hanging out of his mouth, bobbing as he talks.

"I didn't invite you, squire. Work better alone anyway."

[quinientos]

So he's planning on getting out alone if he can? Vasquez nods, seeing as he can respect this. After all, he's lived his whole life with putting himself first, it would be hypocritical for him to believe that other people should do anything else.

"Well, until you go, maybe if I give you cigarettes, you can do somethings for me with the beeswax? Protection or something?" he suggests, still looking out for himself.

[nifties]

He meant for the ritual itself, he wasn't actually planning on abandoning everyone here if he didn't have to. It's not worth clarifying especially since his confidence is already waning after some time in this place.

"A protection charm? Easy-peasy. Is there something in particular that threatens you here, mate?"

[quinientos]

"Everything," he responds with a shrug. "Nothing. Take your pick. Does there really have to be a specific threat for someone to want to watch his back?" Ages of paranoia have made Vasquez wary about all the things that could hurt him, which means that anything he can do to prevent this, it would be good to start.

"What would I need to do for it?" He's also aware that things rarely come free, so best to ask the price in advance.

[nifties]

"Smart man. All magic has a cost." His smile is slim, but there, already halfway through his cigarette even with plenty of talking in between. He taps off the ash on the arm of the bench and shrugs a shoulder. "It's simple enough, I only need a hair and a drop of your blood. Charms aren't as thirsty as other spells." For suffering, that is.

[quinientos]

"It's not only magic you could say this about," is Vasquez's knowing comment, seeing as the truth is that he thinks everything has a price. His life was one of them, and now that he's out of that situation, he's not eager to get it into trouble again.

A hair and blood? He shrugs, but thinks that he needs to know this man a little more before he hands them over. "I think maybe if we drink together, I decide if I like you," Vasquez says. "If yes, then you can have hair and as much blood as you want. Maybe even some cigarettes." But only after they drink.

[nifties]

He tips his head in concession. No, no it isn't.

"You've got a line on liquor too, mate? Aren't you the resourceful one. Alright, that's a fair trade if I've ever heard one." He gestures for Vasquez to lead the way as he rises to his feet. "Just so you know, though... liking me isn't a prerequisite for helping me. Just ask anyone who's ever done it."