voidtreckerooc | Test Drive Meme 026

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Test Drive Meme 026

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!

Stand Back

The long-awaited laboratory carriage is a place of many delights. And by delights, we mean 'unsafe thaumo-scientific practices'. Whether the chemistry stores, the machine shop and its welding station, the magitech benches sat right next to the physics research area... or the panic showers.

A strange, earthy smell is coming from the biology room. Green smoke is curling under the door of chemistry. The machine shop is eerily quiet, and within a metre of the physics room, things appear to be levitating. At least one of the showers is running, but who knows which room the erstwhile scientist came from? Dare ye investigate?

Autobiography

The library carriage is normally a place of quiet, two storeys of shelves and comfy seating. The shelves are normally a little empty, filled only with what the Voidtreckers have bought themselves... but today, every shelf is filled.

Some books are normal - that one novel you'd been thinking of last week, or the tome of old family recipes you wistfully mentioned to your friend. The lower shelves are replete with activity books for small children, covering topics such as anatomy (for kids! non-human kids, mostly!), holiday activities for familiar and unfamiliar national holidays, and an unnerving number of sticker books that bodes ill for the walls of the train.

Others are larger, gilt or bound in strange covers. Like this one, coloured in a familiar hue, its spine reading only your name.

Fools' Gold

The Voidtrecker Express has landed on the world of Pamsar. More specifically, it has stopped, floating and untraceable, above the mountains holding the castle and surrounding town of the Pale Marquess's march.

It would have landed, but the forests and gardens of the march have petrified. Trees are sweeping spikes and clusters of sharp, smooth jade. Gemstone flowers dot the meadows and twine up walls and around window frames. Mosses have taken on the rough texture of granite. Beautiful as it is, it threatens the march's survival.

Team One

What were cultivated fields of grain are now rows upon rows of pure gold. Blinding, shimmering in the morning light coming over the mountains, but useless for the people of the Pale March. Panic is spreading. This team is tasked with protecting the granaries and food stores from panicked citizens.

Team Two
When pressed, many people appear to know the source of their misfortune. Living at the frontier, the people of their march have grown envious of the palaces and styles of the inner kingdom, and their prayers the last year have been for wealth and prosperity above all else. A wandering deity granted these wishes, to the peoples' regret. This team is to locate the deity's temple in the outlands, and convince them to reverse the blessing. Or else find another of the outsider gods to repair the damage.

Team Three
The forests across the march are now gorgeous, sharped prison bars for the people and creatures that live within them. This team must ingress into the jade woodlands, and rescue those trapped within. For some, a discovery is made: living blood shed on the petrified plants slowly dispels the effect.

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Stand Back

Emet-Selch was not having a good day. The tall man is grimly looking over the facilities with practiced disinterest, a condescending sneer of the alleged 'accommodations.' Ohh, the facilities were leagues better than most of the primitives back on the Source, but compared to what Garlemald was capable of... well...

Within the chaos of the green smoke and ghastly mockery of physics was one thing that caught his attention. How in the stars did magitech benches appear in the train? Such one may find him were another were to go and investigate the ever increasing disasters that were occurring beyond the lab room doors. "Ah, you must be the help. Well, go on then, there is no doubt that whatever science is escaping will end us all should you permit it."

Autobiographies

The grim man was no less severe in the presence of books. Such primitive forms that one should pass on their words to scribed symbols and basic composition. There was no tact not art. Worse, how often were these tomes discarded or ignored by those with better things to do with their day?

"Oh... I suppose some light reading would not be remiss... now would that anything here would be worth the bother..." And so he goes, picking up a book, reading its first page and throwing it flippantly over his shoulder. "Great Strategies of Military Conquest Hardly... A Basic Guide to Horticulture? Basic is too kind of a word... I Want to Be Your Canary A Play Written by Lord Avon...?"

He cast an askance glance left and right before quietly tucking that particularly tome for future study.

Team Two

Emet-Selch had no interest in helping. The venture provided a fascinating opportunity for... professional enrichment. He was especially interested in what matter of deities the people were dealing with and just how capable they were of shaping their world... Though if they were content with using the powers of creation for something so fickle as granting mortal wishes, then perhaps they were not contemporaries he would want any sort of association.

But what was really getting his goat was the "team" part of this enterprise. Oh sure, he was told at the start that missions would be this way, but he didn't think it would be taken quite so literally. What a bother.

With an irritated flick he addressed the vanguard. "Now my dear valets, I know that this venture must be quite the exciting opportunity for you, but need I remind you that we're fighting a deadline? Now clear a path through those weeds and allow me to do the talking, lest you invoke further divine retribution beyond your pitiable existence."

Team Three

Despite, (or Twelve forbid, because of the venture imparted on Team Two, a rather pleased Emet is unusually chipper at the discovery of how to undo this shortsighted wish. "Well well. It would seem that the jade prison has a bit of a sanguine appetite. Now that we know how to restore them to full, we now have but one course. And so I ask you, who among you is truly willing to make this sacrifice for the good of these people?"

Zagreus chances back a glare at his new "teammate", fingers clenched tightly around the hilt of Stygius while the blade rests on his shoulder. "Look here mate, we're not your servants. We're here to do this mission, same as you. Would it kill you to at least pretend to be respectful to your fellow Voidtreckers?"

This particular individual in Emet-Selch's retinue would certainly be of some interest, in that his aether reads of an Eikon, though not assigned to any particular Element, or pair of Elements known to the people of his world, as is customary among most Eikonic figures. Though Zagreus is clearly borne of Fire and Darkness, with his flaming steps and his wan appearance, the magics of Life are just as strong within him, Wind and Water and Earth in equal measure flowing through his veins. It may call to mind the magics of the Padjali of the Source, White Magic.

"I would rather not risk that possibility." Emet smirked. "And we may be in the same predicament as each other, but we are hardly similar."

His appraising gaze did not miss those qualities of Zagreus. He felt similar to an Ascian and also less refined. Though perhaps with a little molding... Ahh, but he found himself moving two steps ahead once again. A poor habit of an overactive imagination (or so he tells himself). Regardless, Emet felt no need to pass on his knowledge of the special nature of this boy.

"Case in point, I am here on my own volition to have a conversation with these so-called 'gods.' And as for your intentions...? Well, I can only imagine that you are here to 'save this world.'" He scoffs venomously at those words. "But perhaps if your people prove themselves worthy of my patronage then I too may be counted among your number."

This man is reminding Zagreus of a certain smug Champion of Elysium the more he talks. Instead of giving into the impulse to sass him back, as he'd so often do with Theseus at home, he instead turns around, stopping dead in his tracks right in front of Emet.

"Of course we're here to save this world. That's why the Voidtrecker Express brought us here, because there are people here that need help, and we can provide it. These people here, around us? The Voidtrecker Express thinks them worthy enough to be here, just like you and I. If you don't like that, then go back to the Train." Zagreus squints his mis-matched eyes at Emet, sizing him up slightly, which is very easy to do seeing as Zagreus is far shorter than the Ascian, even on solid ground. "So you're, what, going to condescend the Gods to death to reverse their blessing, is that your master plan?"

Okay, maybe the sassing couldn't be helped.

Edited 2021-07-19 01:51 (UTC)

Emet-Selch was no stranger to threats, real or otherwise. He had been on the receiving end of such things for entire millennia, and a good number of them were quite sincere in their intention to cut his life short. The look this boy gave him was that of irritation and challenge, not a real threat of harm. Still, a moment's repose, just enough for him to think that he is weighing over the wrods, before playing his hand: "Or else... what, exactly?" He folded his arms defiantly. "You are the senior member of this little expedition, and are currently under the observation of everyone else present. Should you strike me in anger, you attack an unarmed man displaying the true nature of this fellowship. And for what? Disagreeing with my honesty? Perhaps you would rather I speak sweet falsehoods?"

"But allow me to continue my vow frankly. Though I don't see why you would deserve an answer for being so crude. I intend..." He took a moment to pause simply to let Zagreus wait. "...to listen. Though you may be unfamiliar, you would find that conversations tend to go much better when someone does."

"What--? No! I not going to attack you for disagreeing with me! What do you take me for?" He shakes his head, irritated that Emet-Selch drew his attention to all the eyes staring at him. Do they all think the same thing? "I'm saying we can handle this without you, if you're not willing to cooperate with us. So you can go back to the Train and enjoy the amenities of it at your leisure, and not be bothered by our presences, instead of ordering us around without so much as a please or thank you."

Zagreus' squint seems to grow narrower and narrower the more Emet-Selch talks. "I am listening, though you've done little but insult me since you started prattling on about your superiority. I've spoken with my fair share of Gods, mate, I know how this sort of thing goes. I even brought them a gift in the hopes of smoothing over any misapprehensions about our intention here. I'm willing to let you do the talking if that's what you want to do, but so far I'm not impressed with your ability to placate a God. Especially one that can turn living things into gold."

"I see your interest in theatre remains intact."

Elidibus has long been observant of finer details. When one looks left and right, one must certainly also think about behind. But the Ascian would be surprised if Emet-Selch had been unaware of his presence regardless.

In one hand, Elidibus bears a certain gilded book; one with his own.... name? Title? The spine is covered by the curve of his palm around it. The front of the book, if indeed the title is printed on it, is held against his thigh. No one will be reading its contents but the man himself.

The other hand bears something far less weighty. A book filled with cooking tips and basic recipes. Elidibus is nothing if not thorough in research needed to fulfill his duties. And eventually the Red Team will be on cooking duty. It only stands to reason he prepare accordingly.

Of course Emet had felt Elidibus's presence, but he dismissed it out of hand as some aberration in his senses. The fact that he was standing right behind him removed all doubt.

"What are we now but a continuing story?" Or, perhaps, an extended intermission. As he turns to face his contemporary he notices the books in his hands. Curious. Elidibus was never the type to explore such trivialities. Those 'human' details are more Emet-Selch's realm of expertise.

Of course he was going to task, but he couldn't just inquire up front. "Taking up a new hobby, are we?"

Taking up any hobby would be surprising in itself. Elidibus does not do anything without purpose and he's certainly not been here long enough for that habit to change. The difference, though it won't be apparent in the middle of the library, is the interest he takes in it.

"A duty," the Ascian corrects Emet-Selch. "In due time, it will fall on my team to prepare the regular meal. It would be unfortunate if my skills were lacking." There is just enough indifference to suggest Elidibus is going through the motions. But there are still a lot of questions.

Why the extra reading? Why not simply rely on whatever memories of life remained in his current vessel? What need did he see to participate in the team chores? It is not as though everyone did. It made a certain sense that if he were going to cook for the train's passengers, he wouldn't want to poison anyone.

But why is he bothering? Surely there are other ways to appeal that don't require participation in menial tasks.

Eldibus's words is shocking, though he is restrained in admitting so. Of all the ones in their order, his will was the most unbending; the most unshakable. The thought of him performing menial tasks for the sake of these so called 'teams' was ludicrous.

Emet-Selch had to let out a slow, joyless laugh. "I was not aware that domestic duties would serve to bring about the next ardor. That is, unless you intend to use poison or conceal a bomb to start an international conflict. This is the sort of minutia that you would accuse me of overemphasizing."

And should Elidibus find himself busy answering his question, Emet-Selch would attempt to reach down and pry the other book open to get a better look at its contents. What do we have here?

"If one were to consider this train and its passengers might be capable of reaching our Star, it would stand to reason that having them look favorably on our existence would benefit our goal." Think of the logistical nightmare of straightening out any 'fixes' Voidtreckers messing around on the Source might entail. The train and its occupants are a power. One capable of plucking even the Unsundered from their lot and adding them to its roster of talent. It should be little wonder why Elidibus might be concerned.

"If it does not, then our time here serves as a time to reflect and gain knowledge. And having no guarantee I would be joined by my brethren, I adapted." He.... adapted, is it? Well no matter, he's moving on.

"Still it is interesting you bring up our great task here of all places. This train offers many opportunities to indulge in a small respite. I would have thought that much would be welcome to you, Emet-Selch."

But any further remarks on the matter are stilled as his fellow Unsundered swipes the coveted book from his grasp. Without masks and robes, emotional tells are easier to see. A subtle darkening to otherwise calm features suggests a shift in mood. The corners of his mouth turn down and there are signs that his jaw tightens. He remains silent while Emet-Selch peruses the contents of this so-called autobiography.

How much is in there? Is it but fragments of the Ascian's life just like his tattered memories? Are there gaps between text? Countless pages empty of knowledge? Or is it all painstakingly collected in order of recollection, cutting off sharply where the finer details fail?

Either way, the ending would be more concise and detailed. A collection of events unfolding when Elidibus personally took to the field against the Warrior of Light. And a finale to those events.

But one that was not without a certain betrayal punctuated by a flippant wave of farewell.

Well, it really depends on where Emet-Selch opened the book and read.

"If you are done," Elidibus quietly offers after a few minutes, "I would like you to return the book to my care." His expression is nothing more than the carefully polite mask of a diplomat now. The tightly clenched fist of the hand which once held the book is the only indication that his emotions are anything but calm.

From where Idia is peeking his head in from his slouched position from the doorway, his spine straights suddenly in shock as he's spoken to, hesitating to turn towards Emet-Selch, almost in hope he's not talking to him and was in fact someone else. But it wasn't that easy, was it? Idia's normal hunched over form returned as he muttered mostly to himself, but also as an answer, just barely loud enough to be heard. "I'm not the help," Though he's not surprised to be looked down upon, even away from school. "And I'm not stupid enough to go walking into someone else's experiment without having knowledge of what it is."

The boy was barely a presence, and had he not responded Emet would have sworn he just insulted the air. "This is no purpose to be underfoot. Unless you have business here, I would suggest leaving it to someone who knows what they are doing."

To accentuate the next point, Emet formed a shadow, only to re-emerge a few feet behind him. "Oh, and do speak up: no one likes a mumbler."

Idia's shoulders slumped more, his mouth twisting to one side in annoyance at how he was being spoke to, but still not willing to bite back at it. Honestly, he's had worse thrown his way. "As long as the lab is open for use then yes, I have 'business' here." And this was certainly interrupting it. Why couldn't people just clean up after themselves? See? This was why he preferred to do all his work in his own space, so only he had access to it.

As Emet shifted before him to only appear behind him, once again Idia jumped at the sudden change of position, eyes wide with the quick shift, before he realized what had happened. "You're capable of a form of teleportation." At least it was less flashy than others he had seen, less sparkles and bright lights. More subtle. Equally annoying.

An interesting response. Were he as timid as he appears, he would have balked and backed down from those taunts, not stand in defiance. Hmn. "This isn't a physics lecture, boy. The work that is done here seeks to understand the nature of our present reality. It is not a place to put to proof what which you are currently studying."

As for the teleporting. "I do indeed. It is one of my myriad abilities. Pray you don't give a reason to see the rest."

This feels like he's being lectured to by one of his teachers, Idia's annoyance not shifting from the little speech he's given or the fact he's been assumed to be just like any other 'boy'. In a way it's an annoyance, coming here he's lost his reputation of just how brilliant he was in his own field. On the other hand it was nice to just be able to hide away and get on with what he wants to without anything expected of him. "'Present reality'," He shot back, still as soft spoken but losing more of the nervousness that was in his earlier tone. "Reality is subjective and able to be changed, if you're just settled on studying the current then you lose the chance to change it." It's maybe a little grander than what Idia's using the lab for right now, but it's certainly a future goal.

Right now he just wants some comforts of home to have here since they didn't come with him. Even if it meant he had to make them all from scratch. It's a challenge in a way, but more of a pain that he has to remake everything he's already created.

In regards to the rest of those boasts, "Yes, yes, I will." He won't, really, he doesn't care. Idia may come from a school which held some of the best in their fields, trained in magical combat and to raise their own skills to be the best, but he would rather avoid conflict if he could, including combat. It was such a waste of energy and time.

Q'uila couldn't be called a coward by any means, especially when you looked at the long list of foes and insurmountable odds her and the Scions had faced. But the train was not a battlefield and Q'uila would readily admit that she'd been purposefully staying away from the newest addition to crew from her home. Or another iteration of her home in the manner that Elidibus was.

However, the crystal of Azem had been burning a metaphorical hole in her pocket for a few days alongside an increasingly burning curiosity that culminated in many, many questions all of which Emet Selch was best placed to answer. And so she followed the darkness of his aether to the train's library and its play section.

"Hello Hades, 'tis good to see you well."

There was no falsehood to the sentiment, Q'uila had found herself enjoying the Ascian's snarky commentary on the First despite herself. That and the Emet Selch that had journeyed we her hadn't seemed to actually mind the many questions that her and the other Warriors had peppered him with over the course of their quest to restore the light.

"My apologies for disturbing you but may I have a few moments of your time?"

Through Emet-Selch's storied existence, he had thought he had run out of things that would surprise him. Having another person call him by name? That was surprising. The woman's aether was telling -- the distinctive hue of a Warrior of Light was undeniable... and yet this one wasn't his Warrior of Light.

"...ah, I see..." He remarked as he put two and two together. "...not only have we been pulled transdimensionally, but transtemporally as well. Such a design would be..." Ah. Wait. There was the Warrior of Light standing right there. That thought would have to wait. Moreover, how by her Twelve was she able to intuit his name? She could have been incredibly lucky, sure, but the tone expressed familiarity. There were only a handful of things that would permit this, and he could count on one hand the number of ways that would be good for him.

He shook his head, thinking quickly to direct the discussion away from his thoughts. "Of course you are disturbing me," he sighed. "The only thing worse than your questions is that grim fellow murdering me repeatedly with his eyes. So I suppose between him and you, I would indulge your burning inquiries. Perhaps the education would make you a better person for it."

Q'uila nods, "Aye, that seems to be the case. Neither you nor Elidibus are from the version of the Source and Shards I hail from. Although," She regards Emet intently, amber eyes piercing, "I wonder if the two of you are from the same universe or no... Anyroad, I am Q'uila Sunrise and there are some things we should probably clarify seeing as we are both currently stuck here."

Taking a seat nearby, Q'uila continues to watch Emet Selch closely, "'Tis likely that I come from a universe temporally further ahead than yours, so my first question would be; what is the last thing you remember before you ended up here?"

His eyes roll at providing her name. He never was one for particulars until it was important. He chooses to remember despite his presented indifference. The tidbit of information that Elidius himself may also be from a different time and place was worthy enough consideration to at least keep the name.

His posture doesn't straighten when she sits, the same appraising gaze considering both the words she says and the meaning of the words that she says. "What do I remember indeed." An Exarch, unveiled. A plan, ruined. The Lightwardens, slain. An aspirant, failed. A home, retreated. "It would seem that you are the one with the advantage over me in this regard."

His gloved hands steeples and draws close to his face. "May I also observe that you yourself are looking hale and hearty."

Edited (dem big arm gloves) 2021-07-20 05:33 (UTC)

Rather than any effect that Emet might have wanted, Q'uila instead grins in the face of his eternal eye rolling choosing the route of being disgustingly positive. The comment about her health gives more away to her than many of the vague yet double-meaning statements that Q'uila had been expecting Emet to come out with.

And wasn't it honestly like the man to cause more problems than he solve?

Her ears flick in annoyance, she was going to have to talk with Elidibus and renegotiate their agreement. And how long would it last? All it would take was a closer inspection of her aether or for Emet to note the distinctive aether of Azem's soulstone on her person to tell the story of how his future might proceed.

"Yes, I suppose the state we placed ourselves in did not look the most positive. Though surely you accounted for our sheer stubbornness, especially after stealing a dear friend in the midst of a reunion many years in the making." She shrugs, slow and exaggerated, a clear parody of Emet's own manner.

"What path was there left to me but to follow into the depths? I will say that your artistry certainly made the long swim worth it, Amaurot is beautiful."

Edited 2021-07-20 06:23 (UTC)

A sharp inhalation of breath, as his face softens if but a moment. "...indeed. It was."

Before his tone turns bitter and cold. "I do recall I asked for a monster..." he repeats a line he himself didn't know he made. "...but, tell me..." His eyes narrow.

"...how did you manage to kill me?"

Q'uila sighs, well if he was just going to come out and ask.

"Since when have I ever given you what you desire, Hades? In short, I had a rather illuminating conversation with Hythlodaeus when jumping through bureaucratic hoops. Tell me, Hades, what do you see when you regard my aether?"

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thesnarkitect - 2021-07-20 07:40 (UTC) - Expand

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dragoonrouge - 2021-07-20 08:15 (UTC) - Expand

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thesnarkitect - 2021-07-20 16:58 (UTC) - Expand

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dragoonrouge - 2021-07-20 22:06 (UTC) - Expand

K'zeka was not a man of science. He was a man of battle, song, and menial tasks and favors that gave him an excuse to not actually take a break whenever someone told to do so. If one wanted to use those terms. Therefore, the laboratory care meant very little to him except for the botany room, which didn't contain any man-eating plants so far as he knew.

The green smoke however...he was both curious and concerned about what it might mean, and though his face remained neutral, his tail twitched back and forth like he meant to pounce on the nearest potential diaster. But the Ascian's presence made him feel less like checking it at all, and he was firmly prepared to blame it on him anyway.

"Everyone aside from you, I'd wager."

The voice is new but the aether... oh yes... this was a vaunted Warrior of Light of the Source. But not his Warrior of Light of the Source, oh no. Its a curious thing to have verifiable proof of multidimensional theory being shown in action. How the students of The Akadaemia would have loved to have him as proof.

At the jab the Ascian simply shrugged. "It is one of the few perks of being functionally immortal." But that was it. No jabs. No snide retort. For now he would rather observe this new subject in his midst and see what he could determine of him.

He was already ready to be disappointed.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Test Drive Meme 026

Stand Back

Autobiography

Fools' Gold

Team One

Team Two

Team Three

Emet-Selch | FFXIV | Spoiers Possible

I have to, hello dad from another world!! Team Two --> Team Three, depending how far we get?

hello "son," are you ready to begin missing your biological father?

still haven't tried to kill me, so far you're ahead by 70ish!!

the day is still young, my lad

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Autobiographies

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Spoilers for FFXIV Shadowbringers Within!

Stand Back

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Autobiographies /throws the train's resident WoL at you

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Stand Back /throws a WoL who isn't in the game at you

oh goodie they are multiplying