Test Drive Meme 023

[voidtreckermods]

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

1. Post with your character, including their name and series in the subject. We’ve written out some prompts but feel free to make up your own, you have a whole train to play with!

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

3. Have lots of fun.

Happy testing!

Dio's Legacy

In an alternate almost exactly like the one inhabited by the Voidtrecker Express, fate went another direction. Instead of the first addition to the train's structure being the games carriage, this train's passengers voted differently.

What makes them happy?

Crocodiles.

The Crocodile carriage isn't a misnomer. It's teeming with reptiles of various sizes, basking under sunlamps or floating lazily in the raised tank built across half of the available space. To be even better for morale, they're all perfectly tame, and unnervingly friendly; it's rare that a passenger is able to cross the carriage without being accosted by some crocodile or gharial looking for attention.

Harvest Void

The greenhouse is a surprisingly bright room, its vaulted ceiling made of a transparent, incredibly tough material that shows the light of the Void along the entire length of the room. The single metal support beam is bedecked in roses. The aisle of grass running through the centre of the carriage is riotous with strange plants and flowers, small stone paths leading off to this patch or that of vegetables or closely clustered fruit trees.

And all of them are laden with produce. Whether a stray spell or a particularly good mood from one of the resident forces of nature, every plant in the carriage has matured at once. Shrubs overflow with berries, rows of stalks groan under beans and tomatoes, apples threaten to fall from overhead branches at any moment.

You may not normally be a gardener, but today it's all hands on deck!

Cold Iron, Warm Hearts

The duchy of Yipre is one of several close-knit factions on one continent, known for both her expansive clockworks and strong links to the Fey. Central to the capital is the Clocktower, the palace home to both the Duchess Stomen and her court of scholars, diplomats and engineers. Home also to a key point in the Ley, where the mundane world and the Fey intersect just enough that one may cross from one to the other.


But the Clocktower is sundered, entire sections of iron and brass sheared away in a great earthquake, and neither world is faring well in the aftermath.

Team One

The gear sprites of the Clocktower are missing, running amok in the streets and squares of the duchy. They're tiny things, fluff, metal filings and dust made quicksilver-fast, with small, glowing eyes and bell-like voices. While normally they keep the machinery of their home running, they aren't nearly as talented with anything else, and are causing general chaos with all devices and machinery they run across. Find them, and herd them back to the Tower. Maybe get them out of the typewriter first.

Team Two

The gateway to the Fey realm is torn, and dreaming magic is spilling out from the Clocktower. Finding the Voidtreckers' minds fertile grounds for its taking, imagined creatures and realms are conjured forth from all kinds of worlds and all kinds of lives. There are many ways to combat these - play them through until the magic is satisfied, for example, or find the Voidtrecker whose mind is the source, and stop them dreaming. It's up to the Voidtreckers on this team to decide.

Team Three

The Clocktower isn't quite in ruins, but large sections are crumpled like tin foil. In other places, steam and magic spill out into the air in a chaotic mix, burning and twisting the air into glittering leaves or long ropes of thorn. And through this, those that called the palace home fight to free themselves from the wreckage. Courtiers, servants, engineers… and, somewhere, the Duchess herself. Help who you can, but find her.

Comments

[darknessinzero]

"Explosive, frosty, enigmatic...magic comes in many forms, and I wouldn't be surprised to find some unfamiliar to me. This, thankfully," he continues, using a hand on the wall to help steady himself as they descend, "jogs enough of my memory for me to feel comfortable."

There's a wryness in his tone that suggests that isn't always the case.

[intelinside]

"Are you having trouble remembering things?" There's some sympathy there, but overall it's a nonjudgmental question, curious more than anything. Overt concern might not even be welcome; it might not be something Ansem wants to talk about or dwell on.

When they get far enough down the stairs, though, it becomes apparent that the lights below are flickering, off more than they are on, and they erratically illuminate the fact that thorned vines seem to have filled the floor of the basement and have started creeping up the stairs.

"...I guess it's a good thing the train gave us boots."

vaguehands at magic bullshiz

[darknessinzero]

"...before coming here, I was in a rather taxing place," Ansem admits after a moment. "Suffice it to say that I am still recovering from its effects."

No, he doesn't really want to dwell on it. He's willing to acknowledge it, but just as willing to move on.

"I find the frequent changes of scenario invigorating, even if some of them are more...hazardous than others." He takes a look at the vines, and then gestures for the other man to step back as he kneels down to investigate. With the rampant magic here, a Fire spell could be more than explosive, as much as it could destroy the vines- but a Blizzard?

Blue-white sparkles at his hands as he calls the magic- he's not nearly as skilled with it as Even, but amplified by the situation, what normally could only freeze the vine before him abruptly crackling to cover the floors, the wall, nearly everything but the two men in frost-

-which, considering that one of Ansem's hands is being held-up in a warding gesture, may also be a result of further magic.

"I hope you don't mind the cold," he drawls.

*impressive* magic bullshiz

[intelinside]

"Right." Ansem's answer is clear enough, and Phineas's tone makes it clear he's willing to drop it too. "That's fair."

He takes a step back and up two of the stairs, watching with interest as Ansem kneels down. "How hazardous would you say this one is? Comparatively." Because to Phineas, it definitely seemed like a post-disaster area that had calmed down a lot but was still somewhat hazardous -- a scenario he could handle. They probably did get worse than this, which meant he hoped other worlds would play nicer with technology.

...As it was, this world seemed to play very nicely with magic. The way Ansem was crouched, Phineas didn't actually catch the sparkles at the start, so the sudden rush of frost was a surprise, and he took in a sharp breath of suddenly chilled air.

Still, it had been harmless, and after a moment of being startled he calmed again, actually kind of amused by the way Ansem drawled that. "I run cold," he admitted. "But I can handle it. That was an impressive solution."

He did draw the hood of his hoodie up over his head, though, as he carefully headed the rest of the way down the stairs, one hand at the wall himself now as the frost might be slippery, frozen thorns crunching underfoot, breath faintly visible. "My flashlight's not working because of the sprites. I'm going to need to fix the lights first."

[darknessinzero]

"Tolerable, though not pleasant." Any amount of strife and disorder tugs at him, but here, at least, he can do something about it. He wiggles his fingers as he stands up, as if to warm them, shaking his head. "And it wouldn't have been nearly so if there wasn't such leakage- but mind your step. I don't know how far it went down." It simply seemed the best option, for now.

As for the lights...

"Those shouldn't be much trouble- I believe I saw electrical routing, and that means I can at least get a charge running if necessary. But I have concerns as to the stability of this system, when it's in such disarray..."

[intelinside]

Phineas nods in understanding, expecting something along those lines. "I'll be careful," he agrees, and does take the rest of the steps down carefully, no less cautious when he reaches the basement proper and 'even' ground. The vines keep it from being fully even, and he doesn't want to fall onto thorns, frozen or not.

"I don't think we'll need it." Tinkerer can allow that much at least, though he won't say for sure yet. "It looks it's a problem with the wiring, not a lack of power. I'll check the fuse box; I should be okay if you want to look for the boiler."

Either way, he heads to find the panel in question, opening it up and sighing. At least there aren't vines in there, but the thing is stuffed with leaves. "Are the leaves safe to touch? I can get them out with pliers if I need to."

[darknessinzero]

Ansem, likewise, keeps his eyes open. Not trusting the magic to have subdued all threats - even if it has stalled the growth of the thorns and absorbed much of the aberration in its air, hence the flare of cold - he keeps his senses alert for any sign of trouble, any possible warning before disaster.

"At least we'll be able to tell where the boiler is, with this frost," he remarks, searching for signs of melted ice. Just as he steps away, he turns back to look over his shoulder. "They should be- but tell me if you prick yourself. I didn't see any signs of poison, but I wouldn't be surprised."

Considering how he seems to address it as more an annoyance than a true threat, perhaps he has magic to handle that, as well.

[intelinside]

There's the slight cracking of frozen thorns underfoot, but a few cautious glances down don't give any indication that they're continuing to try to grow and break free of the magic stalling them just yet. Phineas just has to trust Ansem, though -- he has no idea how strong the magic in this place is or what it can do, or the strengths and limitations of Ansem's own magic.

He's used to working in teams, though, and putting his trust in other people, and he's only rarely been given cause to regret it.

"Good thought," he agrees. And the comment about poison gave him slight pause, but Ansem doesn't seem too concerned about it. He does still get out his tool roll and carefully use his pliers to remove the leaves, though. (There are quiet gear sprite noises from his penlight. He ignores them for the moment.)

Once the leaves are gone and the wires visible, it's easy to see why the lights are flickering; it's a quick enough fix and the lights finally come back on, stable and brighter than before. "Got it," he calls over. "You having any luck?"

[darknessinzero]

Magically-induced poisons, at least, are easy to remedy with magical means. At least, the ones Ansem has at hand.

He moves slowly, minding his footing- there's more danger than just the magical, here, frost or not. Steam hisses softly as he moves past a pipe, and he considers this a good sign- the boiler may be this way. Encouraged, he turns a corner, turning briefly once more as he hears the other man's faint voice-

-and then another. His head whips back around.

"There's someone trapped over here!"

The boiler is briefly forgotten as he moves to investigate.

[intelinside]

There might not be as much debris down here as above, but the thorns haven't come from nowhere and the hissing steam is a reminder: Pipes and equipment have burst here as well. Steam can still burn, any exposed wiring may still be live, the thorns might conceal hazards or just trip someone up themselves.

Though with the lights on it will be easier to navigate, and with the boiler off the steam will stop and maybe the plant life can actually be cleared--

Ansem's call is unexpected, but Phineas closes up the box, hurriedly putting his tools away as he makes his way, careful but not incredibly slow, in that direction. "Could be one of the engineers, if they were working down here at the time," he notes.

That seems to be the case, in fact; the man seems to have had a similar thought to their own, as heading towards his voice brings Ansem to the boiler after all. He can't get to it, because the boiler is red hot and hissing itself, and the thorns around it have been thawed by the heat, wrapped around the engineer's legs and restricting his movements.