sixthiteration | Test Drive 21 (October & November)

→ 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

STAYING POWER - Go down to the bunker, they said. You can get yourself amazing powers from the vending machine, they said. Well, you've done that, and you've made your choice, but one thing nobody told you was that unless it's a power you're familiar with, you might be on a teensy bit of a learning curve when it comes to keeping it under control. You have a week to figure it out without killing anyone; have fun!

FORGIVE AND... - You poor thing, you've gotten into some dust moths. Not that you can remember that, because depending on how big that swarm was and how quickly you got out of it, you might not remember much at all. Better hope somebody's got some Forget Me Nots on hand.

HIT & RUN - Life in the village can be pretty sleepy... until suddenly, it's not. Were you being a troublemaker? Were you disturbing the local wildlife? Because it's now disturbing you, chasing you down the street in front of everyone. Maybe it's a herd of chupapaca or a swarm of fireflies. Or maybe you went old school and it's just a really pissed off badger. Godspeed and good luck.

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.

Threaded | Flat

FORGIVE AND FORGET

Bad enough that she should find her way here, waking in a fountain of all places. Drowning when she'd died burning. For a moment she'd thought, perhaps, that she'd finally earned her place in Valhalla- attempting to slay a fire giant had to count for something. Apparently the Norns had something else in mind- or this is simply a continuation of her poor fortune. A village full of neither warriors nor worthy, scraping past for their soft comforts in their hovels, huddling together in the cold. But to endure waking here, endure the loss of her powers- and now the loss of her memory?

When she can recall who and what she is? She'll be cross. For now she wanders in a vague daze, combing dark, tangled hair out of her face, trying to find her way to anything that is even the slightest bit familiar. New as she is to the village? Nothing is. "Pardon me-"

It pays to be polite. She thinks. She honestly can't recall. "Do you know...me? I feel as though someone should."

HIT & RUN

"Little bastards-" Hunting isn't supposed to be this complicated. You stalk your prey, you attack, you take home the spoils. Centuries before her imprisonment she'd spent hunting alongside Fenris. But this? A herd of minuscule deer that not only dare to dart around the thrust of her spear, but to also swarm like so many locusts and chase her from the woods? Normally she'd stand her ground but-

Discretion is the better part of valor and she is...weak. Mortal. It burns on so many levels, but she flees none the less, spear in hand, sprinting for the first secure position on the high ground she can find. "Make way!"

WILDCARD

Surprise me!

TEXT UN: Hel's General

Do we truly have no army? No warriors of note?

Edited 2018-09-29 04:05 (UTC)

Staying Power

The space Alex has claimed as a "lab" is unusually silent, despite most of his tanks and cages being presently occupied. The animals are quiet, even the croc-dog that had been extra-bitey when Alex tried to change the bandages on her right back stump of a leg.

He's focusing very, very hard on projecting this feeling of calm over the room to his menagerie. Because he's holding a juvenile snakebat with its jaws pried open over a jar and collecting the dripping venom into it.

Once he's gotten what he deems enough, he very, very quickly puts the snake back in its tank, with some freshly euthanized prey waiting for it upon return.

He doesn't miss the person coming into the room, he just can't stop to acknowledge them until everything is locked back in place.

Forgive and Forget

Alex has been spending increasingly more and more time in the woods in the weeks since he's gotten here. Enough that he's just starting to get confident in knowing where to step, where to climb, where to collect candy frogs to coat throwing knives. All the things a good cryptozoologist needs to know in a hazardous and unfamiliar terrain.

So of course it's now that a misstep sends him hurtling over a hidden tree root and sending himself face-first into a cloud of dust-moths.

He begins to come to, the smell of pine in the air immediately putting him to thoughts of home. Yes. He had just been out with Shelby to show her the frickens that lived all over his family's property. They'd just come back from Australia, and were avoiding talking to his parents after his sister had sent word that she'd eloped with her fiancee.

Which put ever-more pressure on Alex and Shelby to settle on a date. And a continent. And how to smuggle a Yowie into the US or two Jorlac into Australia without anying dying in the process.

So. Frickens.

Frickens that he's... not hearing.

"Shelby?" he calls out, still not registering that he didn't just doze off during a picnic. "We should really head back before they send Antimony to come and find us. You remember what it was like last time, when she brought-"

pause.

"Shelby? Are you- shit-" he brought his fingers to his mouth to whistle for Crow, looking up and expecting the big, furry and feathered black shape to come out of the trees with something gruesome held proudly in his beak.

There is no fiancee. No church griffin. And he's slowly realizing he's not in the clothing he thinks he remembers being in.

"Shit. Oh shit." He doesn't know how much memory he's missing, how it happened, or even where he is, for sure.
He does not panic. He simply begins to head towards what looks like the highest ground in an attempt to survey his overall situation before acting on it.

When he hears leaves crunching nearby, he spins, hand finding a throwing blade and holding it at the ready.

"Who the hell are you, and what did you do to my family?"

[ooc: Feel free to throw in assumed CR for ease of RP if so desired.]

Wildcard

She couldn't spend every single hour in the schoolhouse. Her muscles were tense, she was restless. The kind of restless that, in her youth, would have had her literally climbing the walls and launching herself off rooftops.

Not so much an option anymore, and it's not like there's much of a skyline for her to launch herself around if she could. So she's talked someone into indulging her in some (hopefully) friendly sparring.

She's as agile on the wheels as she is on her feet, easily spinning in place when she has to, and making use of two light wooden batons to extend her striking reach.

"Alright, come at me faster this time. I can tell when you're pulling your punches."

Staying Power

The choice seemed obvious. So after picking up the precog powers, she's sitting across from her partner-in-prediction, with a deck of cards between them.

"Six of spades," she says, and flips the card over. It is, indeed, the six of spades. "You shuffle this time. It's possible I'm just card-counting subconsciously." Once a Bat and all.

Staying Power

They want to throw him into a world with weird underground cellars with these computer things, and people talking about powers and things in a world that he's never imagined existing. So of course, he can't help but try and play with them. What's another fun parlor trick, after all?

Yeah. He had thought it was a great idea.

Now he's wandering the village, eyes closed so tight that there's white around his eyes and his eyebrows stand out stark on his face as he tries to find his way away from the village and away from other people. Of course he's doing this with his hands straight out, shuffling along.

Catch him one of the times he opens his eyes?

Well, you might want to duck from the blasts that come shooting from his eyes. He doesn't know what a laser beam even. As if he knew he could end with them instead of sight.

Hit & Run

Fireflies don't bite, God dang it! These do though, which Faraday finds out as the swarm of them chase him back to the village. It stings like Hell, and he's heading for the water with hope that will help him. Even if he makes it though, the bites take their toll.

He can be found later curled up in a corner at the inn, sweating profusely and watching any that come near him with narrowed eyes and a hand that keeps heading for his hip.

STAYING POWER

Part of growing up is learning about things that sound a lot cooler than they are, and maybe also that the road less traveled got that way because it just isn't all that great, and not because the roads less traveled have been waiting all this time for someone cool enough to walk them a few times and brag about it on their blog.

Not that she's ever had a blog, or could have one here if she tried. If she writes anything down at all, it's really not for public consumption.

The rest of her--well, she just kind of wishes it could be.

The point is, precognition is kind of boring and anxiety-inducing. A lump of porridge fell on her hand at breakfast, and it sent off all kinds of warnings in her head that had nothing to do with how embarrassing it was to try discreetly licking it off. Also, just--porridge. Her hair keeps growing out and she eats porridge.

She'd only started to unlock how cool Toronto could be, and here she is, having weird dreams and reading breakfast omens. Nobody she knows well enough to trail after, and the whole--Bunker thing. Well, that seems kind of played out, and aside from the power machine there's not really anything to do there.

Knives is searching for a more salient sign in the dregs of her porridge when the kitchen door swings open, someone bustling in from the cold, and there's something so familiar about them that she stares, openly. Then gasps, openly, and flings out a hand to point.

"You were in my dream," she says, voice subsuming and flowing back out on a new octave. "Our meeting is destined!"

UN: PLAYER 2

how many things fall under cute and deadly here? and how deadly is deadly? those deer with the fangs are suuuuuper cute ~~and no one has one yet~~

Edited 2018-10-08 18:30 (UTC)

» wildcard i.
Ava considers herself gifted. It's not an opinion borne out of arrogance, it's just a fact. Ava is – better. There's nothing for her in these powers, nothing that tempts her, but her decision to be human, here, means something. She ought to be tempted: others have been. It is human to want more, to want better. She stays by the machine for a while, brows puckered into a furrow that makes her look studious, contemplative, pensive. She hears footsteps before she's supposed to, and makes herself not react until they're close enough. Another one here to peruse.

She'll make friends. Be friendly.

"I can't imagine precognition would be that reliable." A smile at the corner of her mouth, bleeding into her tone: wry, but warm. "People change their minds all the time."

» staying power.
In the end, she chose telekinesis. She couldn't have done it before, and neither could anyone else, so that makes it new. Ava finds a spot by a tree in the peach grove and sits on the ground with her legs folded and a small collection of loose leaves spread out around her. It takes concentration, and Ava is unburdened by the distractions that often seep into the minds of others and hold them back from pure clarity. She hears her own organs work, whirring gently, though nobody else should be able to, as her skin muffles the sound. She picks a leaf and looks at it. 3.27 inches in height and 1.54 inches at its widest point. Base colour #4B8425. Filigreed with thin veins, fringed at the edges with a delicate natural picot.

She wills it to move, up. It twitches. She can't help herself – she smiles.

» wildcard ii.
Inns are a natural meeting point, since they bring in a variety of customers. Ava likes to visit, and sits in the front room by the fire, even if it's too warm for the fire to be on. She's been a steady presence since her arrival, though she never asks for anything to eat and only ever orders a glass of water, which she doesn't drink. She's never the first to engage in conversation, though she'll respond if she's invited. Mostly, she's a people-watcher. Unobtrusive, almost invisible, even with the activity she's hiding behind her artificial skin. She smiles at people who make eye contact.

» text.
username: ava
Hello. I would like to play a game. You tell me two truths and a lie about yourself, and I guess which is the lie.

[Staying Power]

In hindsight, this was not her best moment. Sure, it seemed like a great idea: hit the bunker, experiment with some powers, try and get a handle on what kind of resources they have at their disposal before whatever put them all there decides they're bored with playing Jane Goodall and decide to take a more direct hand in matters. She knows her name isn't on the list past Iteration III; she doesn't want to find out what that means.

So, powers. Why not? If Rogers has his super-strength, and Maximoff's got her telekinesis, there's gotta be something else useful in there. Something that will give her an edge. The vending machine was a cute touch, made it feel almost harmless as she scrolled through the list. Not a mistake she's going to make again, she thinks, lifting her hands again as she backs away from the incredibly large groffle who's trotting enthusiastically after her. "Hey, listen, I'm sure you're a nice--bison, or whatever, but really, you're just not my type," she tries again, which seems to do...exactly nothing. In fact, it only makes the groffle more excited, and he picks up the pace as Natasha makes a break for the nearest building, ducking inside. A moment later, there's a mournful lowing and the sound of antlers scraping the side of the building, and she takes a moment to breathe before looking around for the nearest human body.

"You--what is this thing that's following me and how do I make it stop?" Because this whole Disney princess shtick? So not her scene.

[Hit & Run]

So apparently, groffles do not take breakups well. In fact, Natasha's never found an ex this hard to ditch, which might explain why she's eight feet up a tree with a mad water buffalo bashing his antlers against the trunk and occasionally stomping his feet and snorting. All she'd done was try the opposite of what she'd been doing, projecting cold distance instead of soothing warmth. Yet another terrible idea in a long procession of what's turning out to be a generally terrible day.

But there's movement in the distance, and movement means a distraction, at the very least. Lifting a hand to her mouth, Natasha lets out a piercing whistle, and prays no birds decide to join in. "Hey--mind giving a girl a hand? Or two, if you've got 'em to spare."

[Wildcard]

[Come at me, bros. Still deciding on post-TWS or post-CW, let's make that call together!]

[Staying Power]

[Here's the problem for being a host for a vicious parasite - it's like puppy training all over again. Except this puppy is intelligent, hyper intelligent, capable of lifting nearly half a ton and is essentially self aware. Okay so maybe he's not like a puppy. Maybe he's more like a younger brother. So he gets to pick things sometimes. Eddie was an only child. He's always wanted a younger brother.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. Pick something. Only, Venom's not stupid so he picked wall crawling and suddenly Venom is just there. 7 feet of black oil and ooze and teeth and Eddie is panicking because if he gets caught...]

Listen, I think you've hunted enough okay? Seriously. Time to let me back. They're not going to trust us if they catch you like this.

No! Not yet! We're Hungry. Eddie please. We know we're hungry.

They're going to kill us!

No!

[What do you do when there's a puppy? You whack it's nose. What do you do when it's a little brother? A partner? A Half of you? You-

No!]

Venom lets out a shriek, and woe betide anybody who happens to turn around the corner, looking off into the shadow of the fields. There's a blood splattered thing that takes off and crawls up one of the nearby cottage walls.

Thud Thud Thud.

[Text]

UN: Brock E.

So uh. Where can I get a bite to eat? How do we parcel that out? I have special dietary needs.

[He eats. A lot. Well. Venom eats.]

Edited 2018-10-10 04:19 (UTC)

Staying Power
"Go to the bunker, he said. Try out a power treat machine, I was told. Fat lot of good that did me."

The sound of Clara grumbling could easily be heard in bits and pieces, as her faulty gift of teleportation kept popping her in and out of various locations in a small radius. She was absolutely sick and dizzy from it, it was far worse than her first few times through the time stream with the Doctor. This felt like everything pulling and zapping her all at once, leaving her disoriented and dizzy in a way she never had much of a chance to recover from. So she strongly resembled someone that had a little too much to drink, stumbling her way around.

The only good thing about any of this was the fact that noise didn't seem to be much of an issue here. She was free to complain as loudly as she liked, hoping someone would be around to listen. And just her luck, as she blipped and teleported somewhere else, someone happened to be right there. She very nearly landed right on them, but was quick to reach out and grip them tight. She wasn't above attempting to try and anchor herself down.

"Quick, dig your heels in."

Hit & Run
It wasn't necessarily difficult for Clara to manage to piss off animals. They always seemed to have it in for her no matter what planet she was on, and this one didn't seem to be any different. What had seemed like a normal attempt to befriend a cute deer-like creature was now a proper attempt on her life. It felt foolish to run from something so seemingly precious, but given that Clara was about five foot nothing, she felt intimidated enough that she might actually end up getting trampled. So she ran, but of course there were people out and about. Of course they'd be. She couldn't have an embarrassing experience without witnesses.

"If you're inclined to help, now'd be a great time!"

Wildcard
Clara is likely to spend a whole lot of time looking around she schoolhouse, and generally exploring anywhere she can stick her nose into. If people tend to linger out on the porches of their houses, Clara will have no problem approaching to strike up conversation.

[ooc: Clara's crau consists of a few months at the quiet place. It won't really impact much besides her recognizing some people, ramping up her paranoia and control freak tendencies, and will help provide her some motivation to try and live it up now that she's someplace new.]

Staying Power:

First, he had to understand what a vending machine was. Once he'd watched and learned, he stepped forward and began to read the options. There were many, and he could see their uses. The idea of being able to heal quickly - that would have been good in Jerusalem. Here, he'd seen fewer threats. The ability to sense danger. The ability to disguise one's self as another. The last amused him. One could do that without a special power. All it took was training.

But one, of all, caught his eye. Being able to walk up walls? He couldn't, and didn't want to, count the number of times his fingers had scrubbed against a ledge ever so slightly too smooth or too high, how many splinters he'd pulled from his skin. Having the ability to simply run up a surface, no handholds required? The decision was made for him.

With the ability granted, he walked into the outdoors, glancing around to evaluate targets and, after choosing a direction, he ran. He pushed his muscles to their limits, leaping up and running up the trunks of trees, hanging off their branches, swinging and grasping in ways he never could before. He'd started conservatively, in case the gift had been a lie, but as evidence mounted, he kept moving, taking more and more risks until, near the village, he found his way to the top of the tallest tree he could find, a pile of leaves spotted below. The wind rushed past him as it did at the tops of mountains, pulling at his fingers, at his hair, and Altaïr closed his eyes to savour it. A feeling bubbled through him in a way he'd never felt, and standing at the top of that tree, the assassin laughed before he tipped himself forward and let himself fall, knowing the leaves would catch him before the ground could do harm.

Forgive and...:

He could not remember if the forest around him was familiar or not and that held its own kind of terror. There was a feeling that this was not the land he was familiar to. He was cold, and that was unusual. The air smelled of damp, and that was unusual as well.

There were buildings not so far away and reflex led him toward them, suspicion colouring his mood. Step by step, he approached and he watched with utmost care, going still and silent anytime he thought he heard someone nearby. Nothing felt right. Nothing felt like it... fit with his soul. Only once he'd lifted himself up onto a roof did something in him settle. From here, he could see people, and could flatten himself against its peak to remain unseen.

People passed, busy with their own doings. He chose one, eyeing their interactions with those they met, and followed. Boots soft on rooftops, he leapt from one to the next as if born to it, and suddenly he wasn't sure if he had been. What sort of skill was this for a man to have? But his body knew it well, just as it knew how to drop onto the ground when his target had taken themselves separate from others and immediately take hold, pulling them into nearby shadows and placing a hand over their mouth.

"I intend no harm," he said, "but I have questions. If you will answer without drawing attention, I will remove my hand."

C-c-c-COMBO! Hit & Run/Forgive and...

Have you been hit by dust moths recently? And cured or not, had no clue as to where and how it happened?

Well now.

See: Loki of Asgard. Trickster god and professional troublemaker; occasional rake, frequent rascal, continuous cause in the chain of cause-and-effect. See him run, wide-eyed, but definitely not panicking, thankyouverymuch, right down the main drag, the dust moths fluttering in his wake not at all obscured by the dust kicked up by his passage.

If asked, he would say that none of this is his fault. It would be a lie, of course, but he would still insist. Maybe he has no idea what he did; there is a faint dusting clinging to the ends of his hair. Maybe he really thinks that it actually isn't his fault; there is, after all, a first time for everything.

This isn't the first time he's grabbed the hand of a bystander and shouted "RUN!!" but it happens so seldom that it almost might as well be.

Text UN: Loki of Asgard

Hey who wants to go on an adventure of taste with me?? :))))

Edited (icon) 2018-10-20 01:09 (UTC)

Staying Power

Luke explores the bunker not because he has anything to offer, not because he could investigate the terminals nor because he's signed up for stasis pod duty, but because frankly... By this point he's running out of shit to explore. This place is small, he's got an itch in his veins deep down that will probably never go away, and he's filled with the restless energy of an addict trying to stay occupied.

Not that there's much here he could use to relapse, the town's not exactly full up on shit besides weed, but when the creeping thought about how easy it would be to break into the medical clinic and root around starts to intrusively surface he knows he's got to keep himself busy. He'd like to think he'd never act on shit like that again, but he thought that every other failed attempt at recovery. Thought that every time a family member let him stay with them. Thought that every time his sister's purse got left laying where he could find it.

So he walks to the bunker, he searches around, and he flicks through the vending machine like someone might do if they couldn't decide on a fucking sandwich. He means to choose rapid, regenerative healing. His thought is, well, if addiction's a disease that's cured only by time, maybe, you know, speeding it up might... fix him. At nearly a hundred days sober, though, he's got to admit that most of his problem is psychological and there's very little healing left for his body to do — save maybe any damage to his lungs, liver, and kidneys.

He means to choose that, but the screen fizzles, crackles, glitches out, switches to the wrong option the second he taps his wrist device to it. He doesn't even see what it is he picked before it resets to black and he's left standing there startled, freaking out, wondering what the shit is about to hit him.

A minute ticks by and, dumbly, he tries to... feel himself out. Points at a pile of blankets huddled off to one corner of the hallway and concentrates the magnitude of his mind to- So no, he's not telekinetic. Thank god nobody was around to see that.

Frustrated, skeeved out, he heads back toward the village with his new unspecified power completely silent. The trek back is long, and he learns (unfortunately) he does not have enhanced speed, he cannot teleport, the plants don't talk, the animals don't get all Disney at him, truly nothing remarkable happens on the entire journey.

What a fucking cop out.

Staying Power

Mystical machine that grants abilities and Jacob Frye. It's a match made in heaven! Perhaps he should be more concerned with how and why they would give them this, but after watching others toying with the machine over the course of several weeks - and all of them seeming to survive - he can't help but help himself.

So first he has to try telekinesis. Smart enough - or wary being closer to true - he only tries one at a time, no matter how excited he is to play with them. The problem is, he finds himself tending to use it to try and sneak things off of other people, or away from them when they're settled in at the inn, or around their properties.

Unlike his standard skills, he is new to this one and he isn't nearly as sly with the movements as he might be if he'd just walked up to people. That doesn't stop him from trying. Practice makes perfect, after all.

Even if it leads to him ending up in a fight. He's prepared, even if he feels entirely naked and vulnerable as lacking in weapons as he is.

Wildcard

The lack of extensive buildings and rooftops is a bit off putting but Jacob is learning to make the best of it. Mostly in learning which houses are empty, and those that seem to use their second floors the least so that they don't always hear him above. His step is light, but a few have been sensitive to such sounds.

It doesn't stop him from lurking atop the roofs he can, watching the others in the village and seeing just who is coming and going, and what they're doing. At the very least he can keep track of the people, trying and learn a truth about this place, if not the people.

To many he may seem a gargoyle, hunched down in a patched leather jacket with the hood of a hoodie attacked to the collar and pulled to cast shadows on his face. If spotted he might scurry away. Or perhaps he drops down before the person, offering a bright smile as he straightens and looking entirely innocent. That is if the owner of the house doesn't do something to try and knock him from his perch.

FORGIVE AND...

An ill-fated escape attempt has left a rather sad looking sight at the edge of the forest.

The man looks quite dishevelled, hair a mess and clothing rumpled, and more importantly he looks incredibly confused. He squints into the forest, stares a moment and then turns away with a frustrated scowl. He can't shake the feeling that there's something incredibly important that he's forgetting, a pressing matter that's on the tip of his tongue but not quite there. If approached he's cordial enough, but it's clear that his focus isn't on the conversation or the person he's having it with. No offence, he's just...very confused, is all.

"I need to find–" he starts in a gravelly voice, in lieu of any kind of 'hello' or otherwise typical greeting, but the sentence stops as suddenly as it starts. "I don't...know. Is there something people typically look for, out here?"

He starts going through the pockets on his overcoat, and then the ones in the jacket and trousers underneath, trying to find some clue as to who he is, or where he was going. Unsurprisingly, he turns up completely empty. With a frustrated sigh he turns his attention to the conversation he'd been neglecting, eyebrow raised as he stares down the poor individual lumped with him.

"Who are you, exactly?"

STAYING POWER.

This is not good. It had seemed a great opportunity – frustrated by a lack of angelic mojo and generally a little stir crazy, Castiel hadn't thought too much of going down to the bunker. Except telekinesis had seemed a much better idea when he thought it would work similarly to the abilities he was used to having – and as it turns out, Castiel is having no such luck.

He's standing in a largely empty space, alone and silent, staring at a pot plant a few feet in front of him. It wobbles a little and he frowns further, forehead creasing as he stares intently at the object. Some more wobbling, more frowning, and this would likely go on forever if it weren't for an interruption that causes Castiel's head to jerk in the direction of a sound. Without warning the pot plant flies in the same direction, heading straight for the source of the sound and possibly colliding if they're not quick enough to dodge it.

"Sorry," he starts, though he doesn't sound very sorry at all. "this is proving to be...problematic."

WILDCARD.

( roll another prompt! text him! anything your heart desires. happy to thread in brackets or prose depending on your preference. )

Staying Power

Given that she hasn't been what anyone might consider normal - or at least, not the human sort of normal - in a very long time, the Doctor would at least like to think that she's handling things well enough. Whether or not she's actually managing as well as she thinks she is... well, that's another question entirely and not one that she means to spend a whole lot of time on.

This is largely because she'd been curious about some of the machines down in the bunker, and well. She's never been telekinetic before, so perhaps she can be forgiven a brief moment of curiosity.

Unfortunately, it turns out the actually controlling her new found telekinesis is somewhat easier said done. While she can mostly manage to keep something floating between her hands while she's focusing on it, the moment her focus shifts somewhere else everything falls apart, leaving the book she'd been practicing on either falling to the floor with a thud, or suddenly zooming wide and narrowly missing whoever happens to have caught her attention. And in either case, her reaction is the same:

"Sorry about that. Still getting the hang of this a little."

Hit and Run

Running is, to be fair, just a part of the Doctor's life. So much so, in fact, that she doesn't really blink an eye when it suddenly becomes the case here as well. Admittedly, she's usually running from things that are somewhat larger than a herd of miniature deer, but there's no mistaking the fact that these ones are distinctly displeased.

She slows a little, as she passes by other people. Not enough that the deer are likely to catch up, but enough to make conversation (temporarily) easier to manage.

"I don't suppose you've dealt with something like this before?"

Texting (UN: just a traveller)

so, tell me. what do you think we're here for? or is this just some kind of strange interdimensional crossroads? without any sort of larger purpose.

Staying Power

For being 1/9th of a Human Soul, experiencing the world in actual flesh and bone was still a bit of an adjustment for what was normally a little doll made of canvas and steel. She didn't have much of an interest in adding anything while she was still navigating the treacherous waters of social interaction.

However, as an eager volunteer for the secluded and lonely business of tube-watching, eventually her curiosity is piqued enough to try and telekinesis sounded like it would be the most useful; the ability to move items without touching them, to call things to you from out of reach, to lift things otherwise too heavy to do so manually.

She doesn't wait to leave the bunker in order to experiment with her new skills, immediately focusing on whatever solitary items she finds that aren't secured to the floor or walls.

A quick learner, it doesn't take her long to figure out how to lift them, but the velocity in which things happen after that are taking a little longer to figure out.

She reaches out for a piece of crumbling drywall she'd been practicing with, but when it shot at her head fast, she found it better to abort the movement and duck. Hopefully no one was standing behind her.

Forgive and Forget

The forest had quickly become a favored space for 7 when the press of people became too much. She'd had very limited experience with people before they'd all died in her world, and even among her own kind she'd had her moments of obstinacy.

Of a living world as well, she had little experience. Everything she encountered was new, and on her own it was wondrous and beautiful. Trekking through in the twilight, a little cloud of moths flutter up and up into the treetops, leaving behind a slight, nearly imperceptible cloud of dust motes.

7 sneezes - another new experience she's not terrible fond of - but thinks nothing more of the moment.

It's hours when she finally finds her way back to the village. While generally distrustful, there's an elevated sharpness to her movements, a curiosity that causes her to tail people, but an oppressive wariness that keeps her hanging in the shadows.

Wildcard!

Show me what you got!

HIT & RUN

It would seem, of course, that one wasn't even capable of having a pleasant walk out of doors without being bothered by some Maker-forsaken facet of this place. Dorian had, quite honestly, been minding his own business. Yes, it's true, he may not have paid as much attention as he should, but that really was no reason for the fauna to seek their revenge. Well, he did find he fancied their meat, but honestly?

That didn't really matter at the moment, of course. He stepped out onto the street and there it was, staring him down with those doey, kind eyes, but there was something sinister in their sheen. Instinctively, he raised a hand to shield himself, but whoever pulled him here had taken away his abilities. He was defenseless and the beast was tensing for a charge.

"It really needn't come to this, you know." The beast snorts. "I've done nothing to incite your wrath. At least give me a chance to earn it."

The beast snorts and the muscles ripple as it gathers the energy to leap into its charge. Dorian Pavus is not a man who runs, so help him.

No. Really.

WILDCARD

(OOC: Dorian is an explorer! If you've got an idea, throw it at me! You can find me on plurk @

vikael)

TEXTS
UN: remonstrate

Surely someone other than myself has noticed how sinister this whole affair is.

Forgive and...

Why was it always memory loss?

If he was quicker to laugh, he would be very amused. But instead he frowned, thinking hard, hoping he could remember what he was out in the forest to do. There had to have been a reason--he didn't exactly go for leisurely walks. He could remember that much, as well as his name, his past, and even what he had for breakfast that morning.

He even could remember he must have touched up against a dust moth, but not what had brought him here in the first place or when he had come in contact with the obnoxious insect.

He sighed and rubbed his forehead with a hand. Pure force of will would allow him to remember what he needed to do. He would not fail...whoever had asked him to do whatever it was. Nevermind that he had been wondering in these woods for longer than he could remember.

More importantly, he was going to find some way to never lose his memory again.

Rinoa has no idea how this happened. She didn't go looking for trouble. She was doing the opposite! She wanted to find a way to help the community and she couldn't think of a way, outside of maybe gathering some flowers and vegetables. She didn't have any idea what they did, but it was something. She held onto that. It was something. This whole situation is scary so focusing on the simple things is necessary. That's what she is trying to do when she apparently pulls up the wrong root, and looks up to find herself facing a chupapaca.

But it looks so cute! And not at all scary. "Oh sorry, was this yours little one?" She's never seen anything like it, but it seems so innocent. The problem is when there's more than one of them. When there's five of them. Ten of them. And Rinoa's getting that feeling that pit in her stomach along the lines of oh what did you do this time. They are watching her and coming closer, and maybe it's completely ridiculous, but Rinoa doesn't wait to find out if they're as cute as they seem. She runs.

Hit & Run

"Hunt for the village, they said, it would be EASY they said-" Nevermind that he is no Dalish, no forest elf accustomed to the stalking and tracking of prey, nevermind that he'd learned on the road if he wanted any kind of palatable meal (Alistair has no skill for it, the pretty fool), nevermind that he is better suited to the hunting and slaying of men- meat means hunting, hunting means learning the woods, means taking aim at a badger and finding it knocking down the tree he was in after he fired his first shot. It may or may not be knocking down every tree in it's way as he makes a mad dash back to safety- swearing all the wile. "It's possessed!"

The only thing that makes sense, clearly, the only kind of warning he can throw ahead to whoever might be so unfortunate to be in the streets as he tries to avoid getting crushed.

Staying Power

Strange buildings, strange machines- and he should know better than to wander. He should know better than to poke at boxes he can't quite understand- they are more often than not trapped. The hair on the back of his neck stand upright the closer he comes to the dispenser, as he'd heard it called, Antivan on his tongue and curiosity in his eyes. So many options- but what the cost? Magic always had a cost and he was no mage but-

Getting around on foot is tiresome, he'd had more than his fair share of walking on the roads of Fereldan. Teleportaion cannot cause much harm now, can it?

It can't.

But it Is Startling to find himself somewhere else between one moment and the next, a rippling tension coiled in his spine as he tucks and rolls, lading- in someone's bathroom? Bedroom. Kitchen. The Inn, above the fountain, in the fields or over the river- it is a fine time, trying to calm himself enough to stay Maker Damned still. "Ah, my apologies, I'll be out of your hair in a moment, lovely weather, is it not?"

TEXT: UN - The Crow

So this is all marvelous and exciting, very heartwarming the 'come together as a village to endure- but truly- what does an elf have to do to for a proper bottle of wine?

Hit & Run

The Maker must be taking the piss out on him. Apparently it's against some sort of unspoken rule to mind his own business and take a walk- which quickly turned into a run as a moose locked eyes with him and decided that it was time to destroy. Thankfully, he's a lot quicker without all of his armor, so he can at least keep ahead of it enough to dodge being bashed.

"You know, this would be totally different if I had my hammer!!" He yells over his shoulder, but the moose seems less than amused. He ducks into an alley in the hopes that he can lose the thing. If the Chief were around or if he had a shield, he'd turn around and metaphorically lock horns with the thing in a strength contest.

Wildcard!

Do what you will!

» FORGIVE AND FORGET;

Honestly, he's not entirely sure how the entire thing occurred to begin with. One moment he was going about his daily activities, and the next he was being greeted by a swarm of dust moths sprinkling their magical powder all over him.

He remembered most things - okay, so he remembered roughly the first twenty years of his life, but the last two or so were a complete and total blur. There was nothing there but a jumbled mess of images that he couldn't see clearly.

Which left him wandering around the compound looking utterly lost, because this wasn't the homestead and none of these people were the ones who should be there. Occasionally stopping some poor soul to ask them jumbled, although perfectly polite questions; where is he? how did he get there? what the flim flam is going on?

» STAYING POWER;

Go to the bunker they said. It'll be fun, they said. You'll get shiny new powers.

No one mentioned anything about the fact that he would have to learn how to control them entirely on his own. The machine could have at least spit out an instruction booklet or a welcome to your new abilities pamphlet.

So here he is, trying to figure out how to deal with the fact he can suddenly create fire in the palm of his hand without killing anyone or setting the entire place on fire. Needless to say, it isn't going well.

» WILDCARD;

[Dealers choice! Come at me with anything my body is ready.]

» TEXT; UN: AQUILIA;

I am in need of materials. If anyone is able to provide, there are things I can offer in trade.

» Staying Power
Ron Speirs has never not been opportunistic, so the promise of picking up another useful skill was more than enough to get him down to the bunker and perusing his options. Most of them sound good - superhuman strength, enhanced speed and endurance, rapid healing all would have come in handy during the war, and he has every intention of analyzing all his possible options before making a choice, but once he spots teleportation, he stops, stares, and smiles.

Now, that sounds useful.

As soon as the effect kicks in, he's testing the limits. How far can he go? How fast can he 'port again without needing to take a rest? Does he need to visualize something familiar or can he just cast out and see where he ends up?

It's exhilarating, almost the same way throwing yourself out of a plane is, and it's hard not to think about all the loot he could've pilfered if he'd been able to do this in Germany.

For the first hour or so, he keeps popping up all over the terraformed area, sometimes sticking around to check in or just seemingly flickering in and out of existence all around both the North and South villages.

Speirs is already spookily quiet and good at sneaking up on people (which he might take pleasure in, not that he'd ever admit it to people), so for those he's cordial enough to surprise without getting stabbed, he might pop up unannounced literally right behind you.

» Forgive and...
It really comes to bite him in the ass when he teleports into a swarm of dust moths. Ron reacts fast enough to teleport back to the outskirts of town, but it was a big enough swarm that he's looking pretty confused as he walks the streets.

This sure as shit isn't France. His fingers itch for a rifle, or at least a side arm.

Less concerning, but still deeply, deeply strange is the fact that he doesn't recognize any of the people milling about either, even though some of them seem to know him. He winds up staring with unsettlingly intense-but-dead eyes at anyone who's interested enough to take notice of him.

» Wildcard
Surprise me!

» Text UN: Speirs
does anyone have a deck of cards and an interest in setting up a poker game?

[STAYING POWER/HIT & RUN.]

He just...missed flying. That's all. There's nothing quite like being up in the sky, above everything, the weightlessness that comes with soaring over treetops. He'd just wanted that feeling back, just for a little while. And at first, it was great. It was fantastic, even, and despite the chill in the air and the numbness of his fingers, Billy was reluctant to stop.

Of course, that was before he flew just a little too close to that treetop and a little too close to that archaeopteryx nest. One of the two had circled back after the first minute or two, but the second is still shrieking as it hurtles towards Billy, and he's not gonna be outflying it for very long. Angling towards the ground, he starts searching frantically for cover, something to duck under or around to dodge the angry bird.

"Pleasedonteatme, pleasedonteatme--"

His magic doesn't work anymore, but that doesn't mean the habit of chanting is easy to break.

"Pleasedonteatme--hey, watch out--!"

That would be a terrified looking brunette catapulting out of the sky right at you. Sorry about your imminent bruises, stranger.

[FORGIVE AND...]

Gosh. This little glade is really pretty, isn't it? Billy isn't sure how he ended up here, but there's a nice little stream musically tinkling over a small set of rapids, glinting over sparkling stone, and a bunch of wildflowers sprouting all along its banks. Somewhere in the trees overhead, birds are singing, too. Gosh. Real birds. When was the last time he heard those? He can't quite remember that, either. He isn't sure how long he's been sitting on this log, but it's pretty comfortable, and he doesn't mind sitting a while longer.

"Teddy would love this," he says softly out loud, but the words bring the first hint of a frown to his face. Huh. That's strange. "Wait, who's Teddy?"
There's a rustling in the bushes behind him, the sound of footsteps, but that's good. Maybe they'll have answers. Billy turns to look at the newcomer, offering a smile.

"Hey--do you know anyone named Teddy?"

[TEXT.]

un: actualwizard666
Group poll: If you had to choose your own hero name, what would you choose and why? If you already have one, you can pick a new one if you want!

Forgive and Forget

There is dust on his fur. And his clothing. His unfamiliar clothing- were these medical scrubs? Why on earth is he wearing medical scrubs in the wilderness?

Wait.

Does this Wilderness look Canadian? It's certainly chilly enough.

Oh sheisse, it's Canada, isn't it? The last time he was in Canada, the entire country turned into flesh-eating monsters! The X-Men have very specific rules, and one of those rules that everyone but Logan does their best to follow, and one of the earliest on the list is don't go to Canada if you can help it.

He springs to his feet and-

Does not bamf. He does not bamf.

Now he's panicking a little. Medical scrubs, power loss and something Canadian Wilderness-ish screams some idiot's trying some foolish Weapon X reboot and have decided a teleporting killing machine is a good idea.

Wildcard

With no formal church in the village, Kurt has taken to spending his Sunday mornings in quiet contemplation with a rosary and prayer book that arrived in one of his "gift" boxes. It's a common enough scene, the fuzzy blue elf quietly creeping to a quiet corner of the village.

His head is bowed in mid-prayer when he hears someone else's footsteps. "O Master, let me not seek as much to be consoled as to console. To be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love, for it is in giving that one receives-"

Yellow eyes flash in the dim winter morning light when he turns around, and quickly crosses himself out of habit when he stands, despite the lack of pews to leave.

"I'm sorry if this isn't a good place, I can go somewhere else if you like."

Threaded | Flat

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Hela | MCU

Alex Price | InCryptid

Barbara Gordon/Oracle | DC Comics

Josh Faraday | Magnificent Seven