voidtreckerooc | Test Drive Meme 002

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!tdm

Test Drive Meme 002

Welcome to our Test Drive Meme! Here is the place to see how your character might fit the setting, grab some samples and start having fun!

1. Post with your character. I’ve written out some prompts but feel free to make up your own, you have a whole train to play with!

2. Assume they have been around long enough for threads to jump right into the action!

3. Have much fun!

Happy testing!

Luggage Handling

The last carriage of the train is full of luggage. It’s all empty but there sure is a lot of it. Suitcases, old fashioned travelling trunks, rucksacks. And they are scattered everywhere, a safety concern to be sure.

Or perhaps the most fun place on the train, if you are thinking about it right. These cases could be anything, a fort, a bunker. How many can you stack up until they are too high to reach or they tumble down on top of you?

Let out your inner child and relieve some of the boredom of being stuck on a train by creating the luggage castle of your dreams, or step in before disaster strikes and attempt to bring some organisation to this chaos.

Scavenger Hunt

You’ve found yourself on a world that seems to be one huge scrap yard. At least all the parts you can see are and you aren’t the only ones there. A small fighter craft has crash landed here and the pilot needs help fixing their craft to get out of here!

Team One The parts needed must be around here somewhere! This place has all sorts and so it’s just a matter of trying to sort through all the junk to find what you are looking for.

Team Two Some parts from the actual ship are salvageable but it’s going to take a team to get this thing sky worthy again. Fix what can be fixed and get the craft ready for the spare parts that will hopefully be found.

Team Three This planet is not without its nuisances. Most prominent are some strange cyborg rats that have a taste for wiring. Fend them off before they get into the craft and render all the hard work undone.

A picnic with a view

Heroes deserve rewards every now and again and after a few days of protecting a settlement from strange shape shifting alien blobs there is a moment to relax before boarding the train once more.

What a place to relax in. High up on a cliff overlooking a vast plain of crystal stalagmites. The light of two suns reflects of them creating a dazzling prism mirror effect of colour, it’s almost like hovering above a sea of rainbows.

A picnic has been provided by some grateful villagers, the food is strange but delicious and a perfect way to unwind after a stressful few days.

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He sighs.

"We, or you? I'm not the engineer, Father. Unless you need me to weave something, I'm mostly good for fetching and carrying."

"Nonsense. You're perfectly capable."

You're his son after all. No getting out of this so easily.

"I'm not asking you to build this thing from the ground up."

Feanor looks around.

"No weaving necessary. Just..hmm. Where did I put it?"

The ship's manual should be somewhere here. He's sure he left it near the ship. Please, don't tell him one of those damned rats dragged it away?

Have another sigh.

"Don't blame me if something goes wrong."

He lifts an eyebrow.

"What are you looking for, Father?"

Hmpf! He can sigh too!

"I won't. And for the last time, nothing is going to go wrong...unless"

Feanor actually stops and looks at his son this time.

"A book. The ship's manual to be precise."

Nope. Still nowhere to be seen.

"Unless...?" He says warily, long used to his father's... eccentricities.

"I will go look." He offers. No point in letting dad free reign on something that might or might not explode.

"It can't be far. Where did you last see it?"

“Unless I make some irreversible grave mistake which I won’t. Don’t worry.”

That’s why he needs the manual. Feanor looks around. There’s a pile of parts nearby and some wiring on top of that that must have been coiled neatly by whoever brought it here but it’s not anymore. It bears clear marks of rat’s teeth.

“Probably there.”

He was thinking. That means wasn’t paying much attention where he drops stuff. Which has never been a problem but clearly it is now.

Caranthir looks EXTREMELY dubious at that statement, clearly having flashbacks, but he nods and turns to search the pile, which, considering he's not arguing about it, is about as close as Caranthir gets to saying 'I missed you'.

"Is this area safe?" He eyes the rat-chewed wires as he searches - he'd rather not have a repeat of the Balrog Incident, thanks.

That wasn't the best turn of phrase he could use. That his son does not comment on is in itself a good sign and Feanor is grateful for it.

"So far I have seen only rats. None of the others reported anything more sinister. Yet I wouldn' call this " He looks around, gaze gliding over the piles of debris "junkyard safe."

That they encountered nothing more dangerous than the rats unfortunately means nothing.

"Mph." He grunts, shifting through the bits of metal.

"Safer than Beleriand, at least. Is this it?"

'It' being a little tattered and chewed, at the moment.

"Nowhere near that level of threat. I hope. We're not equipped to deal with anything..."

Feanor looks up.

"Yes! That's the one." He takes the book from Caranthir "Let's hope the important parts are undamaged."

Caranthir's scowl deepens at the memories of those days.

"I sincerely hope they're not stupid enough to drag Balrogs onto this thing."

Despite his earlier grumbles, he drifts over to watch his father work - whatever his (many many) issues, watching Feanor work is always an education. Sometimes in things NOT to do. But it's never boring, at the least.

"That would be incredibly idiotic."

No one in their righ mind should want to have those particular fiery monsters on their land. Whatever the initial plan that could never end well.

Feanor sits on the pile of parts flipping the pages of the manual, looking through schematics in search of that one that's supposed to show placement of the heat shields.

"Well yes, obviously, but considering that they seem to be randomly picking people up..."

Caranthir comes over to read over his father's shoulder.

"Then I hope the luck will be on our side because I don't see anyone among the whole of the train's current crew who could get a working defense against one of those."

He stops finally finding the right page and looks up.

"Us included."

There are people on this train who are not weaklings but even they would be laughably underprepared to go against a Maia. Feanor doesn't need reminders on how exactly his skirmish with the Balrogs went.

Caranthir grimaces at the memory.

"We did develop better tactics and armor." He offers. "So long as it's only one, it is theoretically defeatable."

Or you're Echtelion, but Caranthir technically doesn't know about that.

"The dwarves in particular were quite into fire-proofing, according to our armorers."

Tactics and armor are one thing but to be able to withstand that flame a little more is needed...

Fire-proofing

"You know that could actually work if only I could find..." Feanor looks at the schematics, at the ship, then at the manual again. He drops the text springing to his feet. He rummages through the pile he was sitting on. "That one!" he exclaims as he finds an intact heat shields panel. His shoulders slump when he weighs it in his hand. That won't do.

"You don't remember what they were making their armor from?"

"No." Caranthir manages to sound vaguely apologetic. "I handled trade, not invention. If you ever meet Curvo again you could ask him. The dwarves are notoriously leery about sharing their techniques with outsiders though - only those who gained their close friendship would have known."

Apologetic is unnecessary. Feanor knows that he could do better than the dwarves. It would be nice to have a working template but it's not exactly necessary.

"Alright. I suppose that's expected."

Difficult to say what he's actually referring to. The dwarves being secretive, his son engaging in something as boring and mundane as trade or both.

Excuse you dad, that trade kept them all afloat and supplied their armies until the Nirnaeth (after that all his trading partners were dead)

"You didn't like sharing your methods either." He points out grumpily.

Touche but then he never liked to be bothered by practicalities of implementing his grand visions. Things like food supply, logistics and generally ensuring his people are fed, clothed and sheltered from the elements. The unglamorous side of any rebellion. That’s maybe because he’s never had to. Having conveniently made himself unavailable for solving those problems before they really appeared. Though it’s probably a terrible idea to call dying convenient. He’d really choose dealing with the boring stuff to rotting in the Halls on any day.

“That’s only because I have no patience for explaining the same thing over and over!”

Right. Of course. Not that only Curufin can keep up with any explanation because he’s basically mind reading half of the time and his guesses are eerily accurate and Feanor would never say no to his favourite son. Few had that privilege.

"Not everyone is as smart as you are, old man." Caranthir grumbles in return. "You need to learn to slow down for us sometimes. Even Curvo struggled to keep up with you at times. Tyelpe might be able to though. He grew up very promising, although he's not talking to us any longer."

He could argue that actually he considers all his sons rather smart... but he won't. Not this time.

"You know?" Feanor drops the shield panel onto the ground picking up the discarded manual instead. "I'd love to."

To have a chance to teach his sons something again. Those are some of his most cherished memories. He is certain that now they could show him a thing or two.

".............."

HE'S NOT BLUSHING IN PLEASURE S-SHUT UP.

"Well. If you want."

"Of course I want. Why wouldn't I?"

Feanor smiles. He might have not always been fair in his treatment of his children but never did it mean that he loved any of his sons less. He raises from his place. Enough of speculation about Balrogs and anti-Balrog armour. There are no Balrogs near, thank Eru. There is however one busted ship he promised to fix.

"Come, let's make this junk operational again."

"..."

Oh.

He had forgotten... what it was like when his father smiled.

"...alright."

Caranthir mumbles and trots over obligingly to help.

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Test Drive Meme 002

that is my general argument yes XD

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i was dumb enough to mark my whole inbox as read....

lol XD

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wrap?

yus