voidtreckerooc | Test Drive Meme 011

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!

Crisis On… A Ship!

The train has a game carriage and the VR video games are always popular. A good way to relive boredom as well as teaching some good skills.

Crisis on...This game can be played with two to four players. It is essentially a crisis simulator mixed with an escape room. You can chose the scenario (the bridge of a space ship, a camp in a jungle, a high rise building, a sailing ship etc) and you are thrown into the middle of a crisis of some kind. Teamwork and a cool head are important as is using the surroundings wisely.

Ahoy there! You and your small crew are on board a sailing ship in the middle of an ocean. But you are being chased by an enemy ship and there’s a storm brewing! There are many roles for you to chose from and different puzzles and problems to be solved. Batten down the hatches, flee the enemy ships and if necessary man the canons! Bring yourselves and your crew to harbour safely.

Dressing up

The upcoming mission is one in space and the void treckers have been told to blend in. The dressing room has been opened and what awaits them looks like it walked out of a old science fiction film. Shoulder pads, metalic colours. Everything over the top, ridiculous and not practical at all.

Yet the mission brief said to fit in. So swallow your pride and try and find outfits that aren’t too ridiculous. Or go all out and make the most of it, it’s not every day you can wear elaborate outfits after all.

Space Battle

As perhaps the outfits had suggested this world is an odd one, the outfits given to the voidtreckers make them some of the most subtle dressed people in the space city. Big, bold and loud. But the crisis is clear, an enemy force attacking this city filled with non combatants and children.

Team One

Space fighting time! The space ships are designed for two so voidtreckers will need a partner. There’s not much time to train so it will be mostly learning on the job, but it’s fine. The voidtreckers job is mostly to make up numbers, to split the enemy’s focus whilst those that know how to pilot go in to defeat the enemy.

Team Two

The problem with space battles is, there are a lot of injuries and a lot of damaged space ships. The space city is not one that has a large military so damaged ships need to be fixed as quickly as possible.

Help out the engineers. It might be the voidtreckers know a little about repairing ships themselves but even if they don’t, extra pairs of hands are always useful.

Team Three

This city is loud, bustling and full of life. But with the battle raging outside everyone needs to stay safe. Help people get to shelters. Clear the streets and begin the evacuation, though hopefully a full evacuation won’t be needed.

Space Disco

Enemies vanquished, this city does what it apparantly does best. That is, party. The music is way too loud, different songs out of each building, people dance in the streets, lights flash far too fast. There is strange street food to try, new dances to learn and a victory to celebrate.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There's a long, long pause from the blue haired man, hands still, gaze fixed upon the stone he made. And then with excruciating slowness and care he sets the stone upon the half-built altar. When he speaks again, his tone is gentle, the same one that someone might use on a child with a skinned knee.

"I overestimated you terribly, I do apologize. Thank you for the drink."

He quirked a brow, amused. "Or maybe you're having as much trouble expressing yourself as you seem to think I am," he said, unbothered by the implied insult.

"If it pleases you to think so," Fandaniel murmurs, moving the stone to a better spot and then settling down to see if he has it in him to make another today. There were surely easier ways to get this accomplished, but nothing short of perfection could be worthy of Zodiark.

Probably rest was advisable. He doesn't have the aether reserves he used to. "Do you wish your cup back, or should I leave it in the kitchen?"

"I'll take it back. I think I know what you might have thought you were asking, however."

The cup is thusly offered back, mostly empty. There's still a tiny bit down there but that's how cups work.

He never could get them completely dry through mundane means. "Is that so?" He doesn't sound particularly interested, but perhaps he's focused on the task at hand again in pulling gemstones out of nowhere.

The cup vanished. He'd wash it later.

"He nodded. Your premise had two problems," he said, choosing to lay on the ground and stare at the ceiling as he spoke. "One is that even a Landen from another realm with as little brains as you mentioned... would know a lot of the things I would have to explain for this to make sense. And probably's heard of Witch already anyway. The other reason," he leaned up on his elbows a bit to grin, "Is that I enjoy having fun, and you made it easy."

Smiling, he lay back down. "I've had a lot of practice recently explaining the things that everyone in my world knows from the cradle up, so I don't mind doing it again for you. I'm telling myself it'll be goof practice for when my daughter starts to talk and hits that age where she asks a question about everything. Helped sit Daemonar a few times, so I know more or less what to expect."

He took a breath deciding where to begin. "My world is divided into three realms, two for the living, one for the dead. I am from one of the living realms, specifically Kaleer. We'll leave **** aside for now, since the realm of the dead is different in almost all ways, and just discuss the two living realms for the moment, Terielle and Kaleer. Until about fifty thousand years ago, they were more or less the same, so mostly just going to discuss Kaleer, because it is simpler."

"Now, in the living realms you can break the people down into two groups. Landen and Blood. Landens have no magic, cannot reach the Darkness at all with anything but prayers, and those only help if one of the Blood are listening. The Blood were created to be the caretakers of the Realm. We can use Craft and are charged with protecting the land, the Landens, and those of the blood weaker than we are. In top of that you have the part-humans and the animals, and among them as well are Landen and Blood, usually in the same ratio. The Blood are vastly outnumbered in most parts of the world, really. The exception being the Kindred territories, that is the territories of the animals who are also Blood. In some territories there are the Landens of their races as well, but I am fairly certain I've never met a Landen Unicorn," he said with a grin. "With me so far?"

"Pray spare me the 'giggle I did it all to pull your chain' claim when you obviously did not," is the still-gentle, distracted response. "It is ever the fallback of the young and foolish trying to save face, and it is an ill-fitting coat for you to try to wear."

And distracted he is, for those little motes of light have begun to do their work again, a tiny glossy black pebble forming between his now-empty hands. It's really not certain how much he's paying attention, if at all, though nothing Kaleer says is interrupted, either by word, gesture or even a glance in his direction.

Silence could mean ignoring, or listening.

The only way to tell which is going on here is when Kaleer falls silent, and after a minute or so, one calloused hand rises to gesture in a way that could be taken as 'continue'.

"Believe it or not, I've nothing to prove," he said, shrugging against the grass. And he didn't. He was quite content to be amused at this person thinking he was young and saving face.

He waited to see if he'd be asked to continue, at the gesture, he did so. "As Blood we're born with the Craft. Our magic. We train it and Protocol almost from birth. When we are old enough, we have our Birthright Ceremony and gain our first Jewels. That is also where Paternity is acknowledged or denied." He would never admit that there was some small part of him that would always be running scared until his daughter's ceremony. He knew his wife loved him, that he had never done anything and never would, to make her question him. That they served the same Court. That any issues would be addressed in advance. But like all fathers of youngsters he couldn't fully avoid the fear that paternity would be denied. He just chose to bury it and pretend it wasn't there.

"The darker a Jewel the further into the abyss we can go, and the stronger we are, power wise. The ranks go, generally from White to Black. Opal is the dividing line, between Light and Dark."

There is zero verbal response again, the Ascian seemingly absorbed in his work. It's progressing no faster than the last time, but rushing things had consequences.

Only briefly does he turn enough to look sidelong at the stranger for another long silent moment, expression unreadable save what looks awfully like a momentary flicker of ... something. Pity? Contempt? It's hard to tell, it doesn't linger long at all, and his gaze turns back to the stone in his hands.

Nothing at all prevents Khardeen from continuing should he wish so, but it seems Fandaniel's not interested in being a verbal participant. Making altars, perhaps, is very serious business.

Since the other no longer seemed interested, he was fine to wait until asked again. He closed his eyes and let himself doze lightly, after adding an extra layer of skin tight invisible shielding around himself.

The silence extends to considerable lengths if it waits on the Ascian; Fandaniel doesn't interrupt it. He merely turns all his focus on his self-appointed task. Khardeen has plenty of time to nap.

But dozing too long will find the altar completed upon waking, its untarnished black surface smooth and gleaming, the arching wings of some indistinct form curved over it, a delicate runner of purple flowered vines winding up and around it. No such plant grows anywhere else, but it's certainly alive.

And Fandaniel himself, seated directly in front of it, head resting against the surface, exhausted. Silence is a gift.

He lives at some times with up to a dozen small dogs that can speak mentally and herd everything and anything. Including people. He also had an infant. He very much understood that silence could be wonderful.

He stirred and studied the alter curiously. It wasn't quite what he was used to and wondered if it would serve. A Priestess would know, but that wasn't his Caste or gender.

Test Drive Meme 011

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I am sorry I keep changing the spelling on Terrelle, I can;'t ever keep it straight in my head.

Remembering names is a pain sometimes.

Especially with repeating letters and dyslexia. >.<

I just copypaste everything frustrating, it's easier.

Lol, I used to. Too many tabs open now.

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