TEST DRIVE MEME ( 011 )

[lifeaftr_mods]

Test Drive Meme #11

Hello, and welcome to LifeAftr! We’re pleased that you’re expressing an interest in the game. Here, you can test the waters, gauge how your character may fare in the world of LifeAftr, and even gain some in-game incentives, if you so choose.

Remember that Reserves will open on May 17th, and Applications on May 24th!

Two important notes:

1. LifeAftr's test drives take place on the island of Mu, which exists apart from the real world and possesses a dream-like quality that characters are innately aware of from the moment they appear on its shores. No need to panic or fret. Dreams are odd things, after all - and anything can happen in them. Why would anyone question where their mind chooses to wander in its sleep?

2. Due to the nature of Mu, threads in our test drive can not only be accepted as thread samples in your application, but can be accepted as game canon as well. In fact, certain choices your character makes in Mu have the potential to bear in-game consequences, largely in the form of test drive reward items.

Damn It, Todd
The island breeze is cool and pleasant, temperature-wise. The sun is beaming cheerfully overhead, and the waves lapping up against the beach are a crystalline aquamarine. The place may as well be a postcard, with how picturesque it is: from the thick copses of palm trees to the soft white sand, it's a truly gorgeous, becoming setting.

It makes up for the chaos of its inhabitants. Mu has adopted what promises to be a highly frustrating backdrop for its dreamers, this fine evening. The island looks normal enough, seems normal enough, but for whatever reason, the physics and general behavior seems oddly...glitched.

We don't just mean in the general sense, either. At random intervals, you may find yourself being launched several feet in the air by an invisible abuse of physics, or clipping through trees at breakneck speeds. Maybe you're walking around several feet above the ground, or your hands are much larger than the rest of you. Regardless, the possibilities are virtually endless and promise to be, for the most part, quite harmless for those afflicted - just very annoying. Whether you're swimming in the air, repeating the same lines of dialogue over and over again, or stuck halfway through the ground, it's not clear how one is meant to undo these glitches once they set in.

You could always try helping each other! Though that may simply make things worse; who can say if these glitches might bleed into one another and complicate things even further?

(Oh, and they do. They absolutely do.)

This is Dragonna Suck
When you wake in a lovely, tranquil woodland, it perhaps seems too good to be true. The trees are dense with canopies flowering overhead, and the grass has formed a thick, plush carpet on the forest floor. There's the sound of birds chattering happily in the branches, and the rustle of forest creatures in the undergrowth. That's around the time that a loud, angry roar splits the silence, and something very large and very green barrels into the clearing you occupy with large, barklike claws. This, dear adventurers, is a rootwyrm. While undeniably draconian in appearance, the effect is offset by the fact that the rootwyrm's skin is more akin to the texture of bark than it is scales. One can generally discern the age of these creatures by counting the number of rather stubby legs that support its ample middle - the youngest will only have two, while the oldest will have as many as twelve.

Rootwyrms move slowly, thanks to the turtle-like shell that sits astride their back in lieu of wings, but they make up for this by hitting quite hard in a fight. Instead of breathing fire, rootwyrms spit a caustic, stinging acid if they can't get close enough to their prey, though they'll be more than happy to try and dispatch you the old-fashioned way: with an extremely large set of reptilian jaws.

Did we mention they don't like trespassers? And that you're standing square in the middle of their territory?

You're Pollen My Leg!
The open spread of the grasslands allows for a clear view of the cloud-scudded sky. This particular setting is that of a meadow, vast and seemingly infinite, hosting a sweeping expanse of rolling hills. The wind's rippling over the fields of rich green and buff-colored grass lends itself to the impression that the hills are in constant motion, as if you're standing in the middle of a verdant ocean.

Naturally, such is not the case. As you roam the landscape, you'll probably notice the dollops of color sprinkled here and there: flowers growing in bright clumps amidst the tufts of grass. They're not ordinary flowers. Why would they be? They're in full bloom, meaning that thick spores of pollen have begun to waft freely into the air. Careful not to draw too close, because this pollen, when inhaled, ingested, or otherwise interacted with in any nonspecific capacity, will have a variety of...side effects, depending on which particular plant's spores you've just unwittingly imbibed.

There are five variants you may encounter in your dream-travels, each of which will have a different result, depending on the color.

[ ♆ ] Blue flowers will induce short-term amnesia and general confusion. Forgetting your sense of identity, difficulty discerning the difference between right and left, and an intense sensation of vertigo are all common side effects.

[ ♆ ] Red flowers will make you intensely and inconsolably angry at just about everything. You know that guy who chewed gum behind your ear that one time? Fuck that guy! That person over there, with the yellow shirt? Fuck their shirt! Yellow is a stupid color, and you're stupid for wearing it!

[ ♆ ] Green flowers will induce a loss of one important sense - sight, smell, taste, touch, or hearing - though loss of powers is also known to have occurred.

[ ♆ ] Purple flowers will induce silence. We hope you aren't very talkative by nature, or that you can communicate exclusively via rude hand gestures, because now you can't speak at all.

[ ♆ ] Orange flowers will fill you an indescribable terror regarding just about everything. The slightest motion, the most innocent hello, the most harmless small animal - all will tap directly into every primal fight-or-flight response to danger you have.

These status effects can and will stack, by the by. Maybe start up a little game of pollen bingo, and see how many fanfiction tropes you can rack up in one day.

---

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

Comments

agent washington | red vs. blue

[counterblows]

dragonna suck ; we call this one a schüt game

[So basically, fuck this.]

[It's not Sangheili brutes. It's not jackals screaming as they plunge from Covie dropships, but those are the closest equivalents Wash himself can readily access when he looks at the thing. It's more reptilian than it is insectoid, but it is large and sprawling and the clip he's palming into his BR55HB service rifle feels pitifully inadequate in comparison.]

[Odds have never not been shit. Not in the Great War, not against Insurrectionists. Not even when it was the Meta's one-man A.I.-gestalt burning holes into what remained of Freelancer's gut-fucked infrastructure. So right now it's just Wash with a heavy-barrel battle rifle and four full mags of rounds that look like they'll just rebound harmlessly of the unfurling green thing's scaled hide, and he breathes slowly and takes stock of his biocomms, steady as ever. They've smoothed over since the jag of adrenaline spiked when the rootwyrm abruptly made its presence known, crushing tree trunks like matchsticks as its heavy, dragging tail swished to and fro.]

[Wash takes aim and opens fire, igniting the scales between the thing's eyes with a hot spray of cordite and lead.]

pollen my leg ; memory is the key

Even after confirming the air quality of this particular planet and ensuring it wouldn't kill him within minutes of taking a lungful of unfiltered air - the chemical mixture checks out to support carbon-based life, mercifully enough - Wash isn't in the habit of removing his helmet on the fly, particularly in the middle of a situation that's so divorced from context that he can't tell if there's an actual threat level present. Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to have mattered: about two seconds into glancing, offhand, in the direction of some rich blue blooms nestled in the grass, he hadn't taken into account that the spores of pollen they released would be too dense pass through his helmet's filtration systems.

It takes about twenty, maybe thirty seconds for every carefully constructed barrier separating the lives he's spent years compartmentalizing to decay utterly. It burns through them like gasoline, like a viral injection stripping away firewalls, and the jerking whipcrack impulse to seize at his head only arrests him for a moment before the fog drops like a shutter over every lit-up section of his brain.

This is how you find a fully-armored space marine who walks like a civilian, talks like a civilian, and seems to have forgotten about the BR55HB SR hanging loose from one hand. This is how you find a space marine with two fingers pressed into the comm built into his helmet, snarling in a drawling Earther accent: "Agents Texas and Carolina, please respond," before dropping his hand with a muffled sound of frustration. This is how you find a space marine shaking his head frantically, as if that might be enough to clear it, murmuring phrases both broken and breaking, "I'm trying, I'm try - I need more time, okay? I just need more time, don't send anyone else in until I can clear the scenario first, please, just - these schematics are complicated and I'm fucking trying here, please, please - I just need more time, please!"

This is how you find a fully-armored space marine screaming his guts out in the grass, gripping at the sides of his helmet as though in terrible, terrible pain, struck with dozens of memories of having pieces of a digital soul being sheared and frayed away into displaced fragments.

This is how Agent Washington is ripped back to his howling lack of coherency in the days following Epsilon's implantation into his head, locked in the hardscrabble desperation of trying and failing to differentiate between Director - Alpha - Epsilon, trying and failing to decouple himself from layers of memory in triplicate.

This is how memory once again becomes a noose drawn tight around his neck, and threatens to burn him alive.

memory is the key also ur horrible

[encircling]

She comes upon him, dressed in full armor, and screaming his head out. Her first instinct is to tear the helmet off, but she's so worried about calming him down that, instead, she drops to her knees. Mira isn't quite sure what's wrong, but she gets the distinct feeling that she shouldn't touch him. Still, her hands hover over him, even from a distance where she's just barely close enough to keep from getting hit, if he lashes out.

"Listen to me," she says urgently, firmly, "you're safe here. Whatever is happening, I can try to help you, but you must tell me what is wrong, if you are able."

pollen; hope you don't mind murdergame crau

[tuskenlancer]

She hadn't been there for Wash's breakdown. Church had told her, once they'd finally had a chance to talk, to compare what she knew from Project Freelancer and what he'd done after she'd died and before everything else, and she'd been properly horrified - "they implanted Epsilon?"

But she hadn't been there. Hadn't seen it because she'd been gone by then, far away from the Mother of Invention and everything that had gone on there. Had been dead, maybe, before they brought her back and pulled her across time and space to kill her again, far, far away from the Project and the Freelancers and everything else.

She's seeing it now. Somehow, she knows instantly, the moment she sees him, muttering desperately into his comm (there's no way there's anyone on the other end of the line), falling to his knees and gripping his helmet as if trying to crush his own head as he screams.

Her blood goes cold in her veins, and before she can think twice or spare a thought for her own safety she's racing across the field toward him, stumbling through the grass in her own armor, dropping to the grass in front of him and pulling his hands away as she speaks to him urgently.

"Wash. Wash. It's me. It's C-Connie. Look at me!"

dragonna suck

[craterwave]

[If the huff of a mocking laugh wasn't any indication Wash was being watched, the hand grabbing his shoulder to push him aside and out of the way might.

A bald woman covered head to toe in tattoos and a crop top and baggy orange prisonwear pants pushes her way past Wash, not content to just watch him get his ass torn apart by this thing, which is clearly where this was going.]

You're gonna need better ammo than that to pierce this thing's hide, genius.

[Her arm glows blue and she gestures a sweeping motion into the air, sending a huge Shockwave of blue element zero particles cascading towards the rootwyrm. It's knocked off its feet despite its size, falling onto its side, but it still slowly stumbles back onto its feet and looks pretty angry.]

That sure pissed 'im off.

[Still, Jack is grinning as she takes out her own shotgun. It's been a while since she last took on something this big.]

Pollen my leg!

[tenthstreetbred]

The shouting catches Shepard's attention quickly as she makes her through the dense vegetation that takes up Mu. She pushes through, plants scratching at her armor, until she emerges and sees... a marine? A space marine.

She doesn't recognize the armor, neither ally or enemy, but there's still a jump in her heart as she sees someone who looks even a fraction like they could be from home. She approaches slowly, cautiously.

"Hey there soldier. You're looking like you're having a tough time there. Need a hand?"

Mewtwo | Genesect and the Legend Awakened

[madebyhumans]

[This is Dragonna Suck]

[This is completely unfamiliar territory to her, and Mewtwo hasn't seen a single Pokemon since she got here. It's... really unnerving. Forests like these should be completely inhabited by other Pokemon, going about their daily lives. But if she presses on, something's bound to look familiar. She floats, rather than walks, through the confusing maze of trees.

A dragon-like creatures bursts through the foliage, staring her down. She steps back cautiously.]

Are you a Pokemon?

[Her mouth doesn't move, but her voice can be heard by anyone nearby. The creature roars, reaching down to snap at her with its jaws.]

Stop! I don't want to fight you!

[You're Pollen My Leg! | Orange flowers]

[Fear is an intense thing, and one that Mewtwo is all too familiar with. It strikes her as she looks more closely at a colorful field of flowers. The urge hits her suddenly - the need to escape, run away where no one can find her, can hurt her again.

Everyone here is an enemy.

If anyone approaches her, Mewtwo charges a psychic attack between her hands.]

Stop where you are. Don't come any closer!

give me this wonderful Pokemon oh yes

[tenthstreetbred]

[Shepard doesn't wander into Mu very often while she sleeps past the monthly Storytellings- perhaps her mind is too rigid too often and without the Storyteller's influence she may have never ventured into Mu on her own. Regardless, when she realizes where she is, she explores, knowing she may run into anyone in need of help.

When she hears the roar she makes her way over- those plant dragons are killer, and it sounds like it's attacking someone. Once the dragon is in sight she Charges, blue and white light wrapping around her as she body slams into the dragon to stop it from biting at- at-

What is that?]

Hey. Are you, uh. All right?

[In the brief few seconds while the creature gets back its barings, she looks to the odd... floating, grey, monkey thing that she's Pretty Sure was talking somehow with curiosity.]

Dragonna Suck | /THROWS MASTERBALL AFTER YELLING LOUDLY

[yallstupid]

[It still confounds him, anytime Guzma arrives on the island of Mu. It happens so infrequently, only for the usual Storytellings, or if that darned rabbit needs to get a message across. The air on this island always feels so...weird. Like it's not flowing right, or just has no idea what to do with itself. Guzma isn't partial to the island as a whole, really, it seems too unreal for his liking - something like a dream on the verge of becoming pleasant of a nightmare.

This one seems caught in the middle.

He hears a voice in his mind, immediately going stark still and breathing hard. That's not something he enjoys and is keen to in any way, and immediately he's struck with a horrible feeling of he's losing control of himself. But then, he hears a roar in the distance, close enough that he could probably run to, and a familiar word: Pokemon. So few know the term here, unless he's already taught it to them, and the voice is not one he recognizes. How could it be? It's in his head.

Despit his conscience screaming at him not to approach - voices in his head never lead to good things, he has to figure out the source, and if it really is someone from his home. They may be in danger, what with that roar, and...and--lord. This place has been prone to do all sorts of bizarre things. He grits his teeth and moves swiftly toward the source of the sounds, very clearly a fight in the distance, grabbing the Ultra Ball that holds his power sturdy pokemon, Golisopod.

What he finds, darting out from a break in the trees, is a creature he recognizes from scouring his pokedex from time to time, and...a creature he's never seen before. Welp, at least that clears up who he should target. Here's hoping this grass lizard is as weak to bug type as its brethren are in his home world.]

This is Dragonna Suck

[shox]

[Oh thank goodness. Someone else!

Junko had been on-and-off trying to convince this giant plantdragon to take everything back a few notches and talk it out with him--or at least express that it could communicate with anything but anger. He didn't want to fight it...not if he didn't have to.

So when he hears the voice in his head, he's concerned, at first. But then he sees yet another creature attempting to peacefully face down the dragonlike beast.

It's like another day at work, haha. Except he's without his spear.

Junko hops over some splintered roots and lands near the owner of the telepathic voice he'd heard, rising slowly from his crouch and looking up at her with determined green eyes.]

Hey, be careful! It doesn't listen!

Pyrrha Nikos | RWBY | Airlocked CRAU

[tokenflavortownie]

[Damn It, Todd, we can't keep doing this]

[This wasn't the way Pyrrha expected to be spending her day, not such a nice looking one at that. Or at least, that was how it seemed at first. The feelings of a dream-like state were curious enough, as well as the totally unfamiliar setting, but those things had only just eased into Pyrrha's mind before it took a turn for the truly bizarre.

After all, she'd experienced zero gravity before... but not like this. She was upside down... except not. She swore she could still feel the earth beneath her boots, but when she looked down (up?) all she saw was he sky above (below?). Every so often, she felt as though her head was sticking into the ground.

So this was already a fun time.]

Excuse me? Hello? [Pyrrha wanders about, the young space pirate obviously looking anxious at her predicament. But at least nothing terrible had happened. Yet.] I was wondering if anyone could help me with my... situation?

[What dragonna do about it]

[There's something deeply familiar to Pyrrha about a large creature emerging from the trees and underbrush, letting out a furious roar in her direction, at her. The cries of Beowolves and Ursas instantly assault her mind, but Pyrrha's too seasoned by now to be staggered by fierce cries, she she readies her weapon...

....This is happening a lot slower then it normally does. Perhaps it has something to do with the creature's stubby legs. That manages to throw her off the most. But without any way to ward it off, she knows she needs to take the offensive.

The weapon in Pyrrha's hand, what appears to be a metal broom, shifts suddenly, taking the form of a long handle with a shining blue blade forming out of one end. And she charges the beast, making a test swing that slices into its chest, forcing it to reel back for the moment.]

What dragonna do about it

[shox]

[Just as Pyrrha's used to fighting large, angry creatures, Junko has seen more than his fair share of big baddies. Usually though, he doesn't lead with such violence. Then again...usually the big baddies he's facing are mistreated and frightened people forced into a corner that he can try and talk down.

Maybe it's his own idealistic view on such matters, but Junko seems a little less likely to attack than this woman, although he does land lithely near her before speaking--]

Hey, uh. Do you need some help?

[...Alright, so maybe not the smoothest thing to ask. Of course with something this big he'd help her, why even ask?

Before she even answers, he steps into an offensive stance, eyeing the draconic creature before them.]

Damn It, yes, they can keep getting into whacky antics

[everylittlesecret]

[Glitches like this were "normal"? Or normal-ish. Nari spent some time being subjected to one where she was always being moved by the world as soon as someone stopped paying attention to her. It wasn't fun. And whatever Pyrrha was going through didn't seem to be too fun, either.]

Depends. What's happening? [Hi! Might be a stressful situation, but someone looks very happy!]

Junko Monolayre | OC

[shox]

Damn It Todd

[Ever seen a mess of animal parts trying to deal with the consequences of being in a dream he wishes he could wake up from? No?

Well today's a new day.

Junko wasn't familiar with this place at all, and that was worrisome. Who knew if Shadow was trying to use illusions to screw with him? Though usually, his mentor's illusions were much more straightforward. A monstrous familiar trying to eat him, or perhaps the encroaching abyss of darkness threatening to envelop all that Junko knows.

This is...definitely creative.

Deciding there's no reason to hide them, he drops the glamour that hides his wings and he stretches them out. Maybe if he just tries to get a better vantage, he'll figure out where this is. He'll sort it! Except...that his wings immediately flattened to the ground uselessly. It didn't...hurt, but he couldn't raise them.

Anyone nearby would get a great view of a pair of batlike wings that appeared as a broken texture, flickering between something realistic and something oddly flat and polygonal. Junko appears distressed as he regards his own limbs. How do you even deal with this?!]


You're Pollen My Leg! [Purple, Orange]

Fairly well-removed from the shores of Mu, Junko now found himself approaching a brightly colored patch of flowers. It was something he would have rather avoided, given that pollen tended to inconvenience his sense of smell and cause him to sneeze, but he was rather glad for the change in scenery. He almost commented on it to himself--

--Except that he couldn't. The words wouldn't come out.

For a moment or two, he tried to repeat simple sentences, but it was no use; it was as if he'd never spoken before in his life. Weird...weird, but not the strangest thing he had dealt with before. Actually, he was pretty well versed in dealing with nonverbal communication, given his muteness as a child.

Sure wish I'd kept up with sign language, he thought wryly to himself, glancing down at the flowers. He was sure they were to blame. Nothing that gaudy was ever safe. Example? Snakes and dart frogs.

He began to make his way out of the field, feeling particularly ill at ease. The sooner he got out of here, the better. As he walked, he began to practice signing simple phrases, attempting to recall what had long since been forgotten...and without looking where he's going, he's bound to bump into someone--something that will immediately cause him to jump back in alarm with tail and ears bristling.

An overreaction? Definitely. Better watch out, he's nervous, nonverbal, and pointy!

monika | doki doki literature club | warning for potential spoilers

[highschooldevil]

i. damn it, todd

[Weirdly, it's not until strange things start happening that this whole thing makes more sense to her. One moment, she's where she should be. The next, she's somewhere else entirely. Dreaming? That hadn't really made sense.

Not until she suddenly finds herself rushing ahead, distorted blocks clouding her vision. Wait, no, that's not right. Not rushing. Teleporting? No...

Clipping. Glitching.

As she sees someone nearby - someone, really? - she laughs a little.]

Wow... Seems like someone should have playtested this a little more, huh?

ii. you're pollen my leg

[Oh, now what is this? She stops to smell these absolutely beautiful flowers and the next her throat feels funny. Monika stands there in the meadow, staring ahead of her and with one hand on her throat.

No matter how she tries, she can't... seem to make a sound anymore. And that shouldn't be happening! This is all wrong!

It's not like she's supposed to be a silent protagonist, or anything! She isn't even the right role or genre for that. It's utterly ridiculous.

She drops her hands back to her side, sighing both sadly and silently. How is she supposed to give anyone a writing tip of the day like this?

Isn't this a sad sight?]

i. (oh my gosh oh my gosh?? Bless u for playin Monika!!)

[shox]

Playtested?! What kinda dream is this?

[The guy who she'd come across is in no better a state. While he's not clipping in and out of existence or objects, his wings are creating extended, flickering polygons. Periodically, they stabilize into their usual batlike form, but not enough to let him move too far.]

It's like a busted game...

ii

[everylittlesecret]

[Ah! A cute girl! Who looks sad. That's enough to tug at Nari's heartstrings as she comes over to investigate.]

Heya. Everything alright?

[Is there anything she can do to help?]

ii. POWERSLIDES IN HERE

[yallstupid]

[If there's one thing Guzma's learned after months in this place? Never, ever trust a flower. The most innocent, beautiful looking bloom can sometimes be horrifically toxic or carnivorous. Heck, he's even seen shrubs with teeth, or whatever the heck those tall, spindly, spider-like moss wads even are... The addition of a whole garden of bright and colorful flowers has Guzma squinting at them uneasily, and he's not a damn idiot. He shucks his hoodie and his undershirt, tying the latter loosely around his nose and mouth so he can go about his business without breathing anything in.

Back on goes his hoodie and he zips it up nearly to the top - he's not a savage like some people (Kukui) to go bare-chested. Especially where he doesn't know if the pollen of these flowers could cause burns or rashes. He's half tempted to burn them all, just to be sure, but...that'd be a poor decision too, to make that shit airborne.

As he meanders through the flowerfield, he spots a young lady crouched down by a patch of the orange ones. Lord, a newbie...poor thing. Hopefully these aren't as bad as he's expecting them to be. Still, he holds upa hand and mumbles, half muffled through his makeshift face mask:]

Yo, homegirl, prob'ly ain't a good idea to go breathing in them flowers, yeah.

Josh Washington | Until Dawn (spoilers) | CW: body horror, mental illness

[partylikeapornstar]

Dammit
Sleep was rare these days. Something he'd become less and less in need of as time passed. He'd never been one to sleep often anyway. Too many nightmares, too much guilt. He didn't deserve rest, not when his sisters-

"Hannah?" His voice cracked, the word garbled slightly by the oversized teeth on the left side of his mouth. He was curled up against a small boulder on the beach, squinting against the bright light, already dripping in sweat from the heat. Three shirts, thermal underwear, jeans, boots, and the heavy work overalls were excellent for frozen mountain tops but for tropical beaches, not so much.

The light hurt his eyes, well... eye. The left one gone white and milky. Everything was so much warmer. It was hard to differentiate what was alive and what was just the heat baking off the sand. He closed his eyes, both of them, leaned back against the boulder. "No no no no. It's not real... It's not real."

One would not be faulted for thinking he's referring to the boulder because he seems to be glitching in and out of it. Not rocking so much as swaying slightly with his breathing, just enough to vanish half inside the boulder and pop right back out.

Dragonna Suck
The rootwyrm was kinda nice, really. Definitely nicer than pigs and blood and dead sisters. It was mad, he knew that much, he could certainly tell that. But for as mad as the thing across the clearing was Josh seemed rather untroubled by it. Instead turning away, offering the beast his back, looking desperately for something else, someone else, maybe?

A moment's searching and then he turns back to the dragon, tilts his head, confusion etched in every line of his face. A face ravaged on one side, lips torn and tattered, stretched wide over a mouth too full of teeth. "No...?" It's a question as much as an insistence as he begins backing away from the root wyrm, scrambling backwards, tripping over his feet and crashing to the forest floor, back peddaling until he hit a tree.

But even as he moves his good right eye darts from one place to another, the rootwyrm and then to it's side. His left eye may well be following but it's almost impossible to tell, all the color lost and gone white with decay.

why hello there let's go with prompt a

[postictal]

This shit? Untenable. At least no one else seems to have been laid out with half their fucking insides a soup spilled onto the grass, but that doesn't make the current predicament any better. There's something wrong with the guy stuck in the rock, and it's a little something more than the fact that he is, at the moment, stuck in a rock.

Tim's not great with ages, but he places the guy somewhere in his early twenties, maybe. Maybe younger. There's something about his face, the way part of it looks like it's peeled back something long and fang-like, the milk-blot of the way one of them's gone completely blank.

Later. He'll figure it out later.

"Easy, buddy." Tim picks his way over slowly, palms out in a peaceable gesture. "Take it slow, okay? You hurt?"

warden amdir tabris | dragon age

[knifetornado]

this is dragonna suck

[One might think, in a battle between a dragon and a skinny ass elf, the dragon would be the loudest person in this encounter. However, that certainly wouldn't be the case here. Anyone coming across this combat will see the rootwyrm turning itself in circles, attempting to grab at a person that seems to be on it's back, hanging onto it's antlers while whooping and hollering the whole time. Groundside, a large dog can be seen trying to keep pace (and also not be stepped on), circling the beast and barking the entire time.

The woman on the beast, however, doesn't seem to care what kind of damage or noise this is causing, removing one hand from the beast's antler to retrieve a small sword from her back, starting to slam it into it's neck.]

You can attack me, that's fine, but I draw the line at stabbing my fuckin' dog! Fight me you sentient shrub!

[She does seem to be largely enjoying herself, though. Maybe this is her idea of a good dream.]

you're pollen my leg; purple

[In sharp contrast to her above encounter, this one absolutely bites.

She was doing fine avoiding the flowers up to now, but the purple she had wanted to investigate- most dark flowers have some kind of harmful pigment in them, and if she's gonna be stuck here, she needs new poisons, stat. Of course, the second she kneels down next to them, the wind blows a faceful of pollen straight at her, knocking her onto her back in a fit of coughing. And worse than that, when she sits up, she can't seem to yell at all.

Her dog circles her and starts padding off to check the perimeter, and Amdir tries to yell after him- nothing. Clapping still works, but he doesn't seem to be receptive to that, either. So she just sort of flops on her back and starts banging all of her limbs on the ground in the world's dumbest looking temper tantrum. She may be in her mid 20s, but right now, she looks like she could be five.

If not for the times she stops to flip off the flower patch, that is.]

dragonna suck

[altarwolf]

[Between the trees, two yellow, piercing eyes have trained themselves on the scene of complete and utter chaos before them, content to simply watch rather than step in. The wolf they're attached to is large and black, and seems oddly calm in the wake of this dragon's stampeding through the forest.

She steps back to avoid a swinging tail, but otherwise remains still.]

Nemesis Sudou || Evillious Chronicles

[zangenasai]

[ I. Dragonna Suck ]

[ Dragons aren't unfamiliar to her. The concept of them exists, and on some level, there's this vague distaste for them in her mouth. But she also knows forests, and while this one is unfamiliar, that doesn't mean she doesn't know how to navigate one. So first of all, she moves away from it. She can climb with the best of them, almost like a monkey, and the easiest way to lose something that is much larger than you is honestly to get out of its sight. So she is going to hide in the foliage, because it can only spit acid so long with no results.

It's not that she doesn't know how to fight, but her Naga Custom .44 won't do much unless she's careful. Maybe through an eye? Maybe the skin can be pierced if it's like bark. But she needs it to hold still long enough as it thrashes about, trying to discern where she climbed to. ]

Come on... Come on...

[ II. Pollen My Leg || Random per thread ]

[ After the encounter with the dragon, she doesn't know what to expect. So she's on-guard and approaches the field with caution. So she stays close to the ground, creeping along. Who knows what the grass is hiding, what predators and enemies might be showing up. It's not that she'd even thought about the pollen, she had momentarily, but poison wouldn't be a bad way to go if she can die here. So when she gets hit with a face full of it, she stands and waves it from her face. She feels... A bit funny. ]

[ I. Dragonna Suck ] (Sorry this is so late!)

[shatteredlenses]

[It's the sound of thrashing that gets Ignis' attention first, followed by the smell of something acidic as he carefully draws closer. Neither thing is a good sign on the ever-changing island of Mu because it generally means that a newcomer has run afoul whatever dangerous creatures populate its shores this month. Not that a blind man is the best of rescuers, but Ignis is hardly going to let that keep him from trying.

Whatever the creature was focused on before, it doesn't take it long to change that focus to Ignis. Perhaps the daggers in his hands flashed and gave him away? Whatever the reason, it doesn't really matter since that means it's focusing on him and not the newcomer that had its attention before.]

Well, you're certainly a big fellow, aren't you?

[From the way the rootwyrm shrieks at him, you would think he'd just insulted its mother.]

All right, fight it is then.

[He just hopes the newcomer who originally got its attention is far away from the battle zone by now. It's hard to tell with how much thrashing around the rootwyrm is doing and no vision to go by.]

link | loz : breath of the wild

[forgottenslate]

( dragonna suck )

[ okay, so first off, it isn't Link's fault.

He's been waking up in a lot of somewhat precarious situations, recently, and this isn't the first time that he's woken up in a pool of water. The metallic clank that resonates in the water echoes in his ears. A tired hand reaches and successfully finds the familiar sharpened edge of his precious weapon, each curve and tip comforting to the touch. That's one thing out of the way. Next order of business, the large, wooden forest creature? It stares him down, the water around him rumbling in what sounds (and feels) like...a growl?

It is a growl.

Link pulls himself to his feet quickly, drawing the sword of evil's bane, slicing horizontally to remove any extra weight that the water could have supplied, and finds solid ground to stand upon. A quick glance around the forest tells him it isn't what he's used to or...what he remembers. At all. Another missing patch of information? Has Hyrule always been so large? That he could forget so much in what feels like the blink of an eye?

The creature spews some sort of acidic substance, and the ground next to Link sizzles and burns away in a foul smelling display of territorial pride. Icky. That is straight up icky.

His first instinct? To fight. To fight, and get to the castle, and save the woman who echoes her trust in his mind and shakes his concept of time. This creature doesn't reak of evil, however. The sword shows no sign of a foe that would do harm upon Hyrule, or it's people.

It is returned to it's sheath, and he turns to run the opposite way.

Get out of the forest, get out of the forest, get out of the forest. ]

( pollen my leg )

[ with a green flower tucked behind his ear, Link can be found with an arm against a tree. Staring at the ground, eyes shut, deep breaths.

Training has prepared him for this...kind of, though in what regard he is not sure. Memories of a time before hearing the voice of Zelda have flown away, like doves in a cage. With his sense of sight all but vanished, he depends solely on his hearing, and his touch to direct him. To take him to where Ganon is. To save the princess who calls for him in his dreams.

He takes a few steps forward, his arm extended and touching each tree, feeling the coarse bark beneath his fingertips. The birds chirping nearby. He can feel the sun on his face, but nothing in his expression says that he can actually see it.

This bites. ]

dragonna suck (I hope this is okay and also I love you thank you for my life)

[achievementhunter]

[Preferably, get out of the forest without bowling children over? If possible.

Apparently not possible. Completely unprepared for such an encounter, Chara's small frame is immediately bowled over- something they're more than happy to let him know of with a yelp and an exceptionally disgruntled bark.]

Have you ever considered watching where you're going?

[They don't care if you're running for your life buddy it's called Being Polite???]

Foster van Denend | OC | Trigger Warnings may apply!

[cacoethes_mori]

Bethesda Blues(?)

Foster has always been drawn to the ocean, and everything it holds. Depths and secrets; stillness, motion, powers, powers.

He's knee-deep in the water, the sea lapping up his legs. All four of them, yellow and black rising up out of the frothing surf as it rolls in. The water--it's not very cold but it's sharp, the spray burning his eyes, the taste on his lips, in his nose. He loves it.

Uh. Normally he loves it?

Right now he's having a pretty bizarre experience, his human (er, ursine?) arms stretched wide on either side of him, as far out as they'll go--palms flat, claws spread, and he's... he's vibrating, kind of, clipping up out of the water every time it rolls in and back down, into the ground as the tide rolls back out.

He can't move--not under his own power. He's effectively frozen, staring out over the ocean and clipping a little further out to see with every ebbing wave.

It's not clear whether his expression is a grimace or a grin.

Flower Power....?

The flowers were hideous.

He can't process entirely why, but he knows what he's looking at, knows what insult he can see with his own eyes. Maybe it's the colour. Yes, it's definitely the colour. It has to be. It doesn't even make sense, but he's beyond caring.

The only colour he ever liked is red, and then only in one context, one material--and only as one hue, unbroken and pure.

That material wasn't flowers.

And this? Was ugly.

The blue pansylike buds peppering the field here and there like a contagion, a disease encroaching on the natural purity of that red, breaking its solid wave with something... disgusting. No.

Worse.

Offensive.

And he's not used to anger, to... to rage. It's not allowed to him--frustration, tedium, things like that are normal, but something like anger is too justified, too entitled for a wretched... disgusting piece of worthless garbage--!

Which is why he's escalated past spurning the blooms and moved onto violently trampling them.

Nine feet of horse-man-bear-mushroom-taur just going absolutely ham on every blue flower he can see, exploding puffs of pollen into the air with every vicious stomp of his three-toed hooves.

There is no way this can go wrong.

FLOWERS

[onegreeneye]

Anger used to be a pretty unfamiliar emotion for Ginko. Not unheard of, but not particularly common; in fact, his ability to stay level-headed had long been one of the few things he prided himself on.

But then there was Ryslig. And the changes it brought with it. So, the burning rage welling up in his chest as he tries to make his way through the field isn't unfamiliar. It is, however, pretty annoying in and of itself, which just results in a horrible sort of self-fueling perpetual anger machine.

The Troll Experience.

And then he sees the... kelpie, maybe? But the arms are all wrong; maybe just another of the species from other worlds that seem to show up around here. But that's not important. What is important is what he's doing.

It's probably a good thing that there are no nymphs here right now - but that's not much in the way of consolation in Ginko's eyes at the moment. Nymphs around or no, this is just fucking unacceptable. He storms toward the centaur, ears pinned to the sides of his head and his tail lashing back and forth behind him.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?"

Katsuki Bakugo | My Hero Academia

[hot_handed]

dragonna suck;

Tch, good thing you woke your ugly face up. All this peaceful woodland crap was starting to get on my nerves.

[Flexing his hand, Katsuki lets out a burst of flames to wildly propel his body forward toward the waiting jaws of the Rootwyrm. As it bellowed and attempted to take a nice Bakubite, he switched directions with his other hand, vaulting over the dragon's face and running to perch on his shell.]

Are you some kinda fucking dragon or centipede?! [Not that it mattered to him. It was in his way. This thing was nothing compared to what he had faced before. Too fucking bad. It would have made a pretty cool pet. But this thing was flammable, correct? Katsuki couldn't have asked for a more convenient opponent. It was almost too convenient, he was perfectly in sync to its attacks and he was going to murder it

When, somefuckinghow, his explosion switched entire directions and hit him, sending him flying through the trees.

Bakugone.]

pollen my leg;

FUCK YOU!!!

[Katsuki doesn't need a special flower to make him angry; he's already angry. That backfires when he attacks a patch of green flowers, pollen flying into his face as if offended.]

Fucking stupid allergens!!! [He aggressively swipes at his face to try and get that shit out. Where's some antihistamines when you need them? Satisfied that he blocked most of it out, he can only stare blankly when he lowers his hand... When the hell did it get so dark???

The next sound he hears, be it the snap of a twig or a voice, earns an explosive attack in that direction out of pure reaction.]

dragonna suck; aaaaah hello!!

[byhalves]

[Assuming that explosions are a sign of someone familiar is, well. Kind of wishful thinking. He's heard of all the explosives that weird, limit-pushing kid left for people before he just up and vanished. Explosions don't mean, inexplicably, that he's not alone any more.

(Though he's pretty sure if it was Bakugou, actually for real, he'd probably be alone anyways? Probably.)

It's that belief that an explosion Absolutely Could Not be Bakugou that makes him freeze in shock at the blur that rushes by him - literally, he can't move for a moment, feet stuck in the ground - but hope he's ready for the wall of ice that should hopefully stop him in his tracks.]

Yellowfang | Warriors

[taxusbacatta]

DAMMIT TOD!

Humph! How was this for a dying dream? Ridiculous.

The old grey cat stood flat-footed against the side of a Twoleg nest as though it were the ground and stared in through the window with what looked like for all the world a half-lidded pout. There was a reflection deep within the nest dancing along the wall and though she was no kit, she knew it wasn't anything that could be caught, it still caught her attention the way things in dreams often do.

But she shouldn't be dreaming about something like this! She should be dreaming about her family, her Clan, literally anything else but sitting on the side of a house and watching a not-a-real-bug like some wide-eyed kit. Yellowfang couldn't feel the sting of smoke in her throat for the moment and she was glad of that--and suddenly felt strange for being able to know such a thing to even be glad of it.

What was StarClan trying to tell her?

She had received visions before--terrible visions and wonderful visions, but never something as strange as this. With an impatient huff, she rose to her paws and started to walk along the side of the building. It did occur to her to wander back down to the earth but why bother? StarClan had stuck her up here for a reason, may as well suss out what it is so she can wake up and tell some cat about all this mouse dung with her dying gasps.

[demonpuppy]

Chip is walking through the ruins--or at least trying to, with how they skip-stutter back and forth in their movements. It's frustrating to say the least, but they don't know how to make it STOP and it's not any worse than when their dreams make them move through molasses.

Though now they think about it, nothing like that normally happens here on Mu...

Whatever.

Their attention is caught by Yellowfang's flicking tail, and they stop to stare before hurrying over (then skipping two seconds back, then forward again) and reaching to try and pull the poor cat off the wall. "How'd you get up there, buddy?"