TEST DRIVE 006

[phantasmods]

Hello and welcome to Phantasmal Rift's Test Drive Meme!

Test drive threads are assumed to be game canon for accepted characters unless otherwise noted, so don't feel like you'll have to introduce yourself a second time to everyone you meet! As an added bonus, participation in the test drive comes with the chance to earn up to two items of loot for your trouble! Characters who are accepted can earn one item for having a top level, and one for tagging out to someone else's top level! Your SWEET LOOT will be included with your acceptance notice.

Additionally, characters currently in game can earn themselves a piece of bonus loot for the dungeon by tagging people's top-levels on the test drive! Existing characters get their bonus loot along with the rest of their loot at the conclusion of the dungeon.

This test drive takes place in the Telovia Mines, an extremely abandoned magical crystal mine and the town and infrastructure that one supported it. The tunnels are in reasonably good condition and would be reasonably navigable... Except for one thing.

ONE MINOR THING

The magical effects of the Fissure cause those within it to lose something when they arrive - for most people, it's a sense such as touch or hearing, but it's also possible to lose a more esoteric sense (such as your sense of balance or temperature, but NOT things like "sense of morals" or "sense of style"), the ability to speak, or the ability to recognize faces. As a general guideline, whatever characters lose should be non-supernatural in nature, and something they would have taken for granted as a part of their ability to function.

ODDS AND ENDS

Just because the mines are empty of people doesn't mean that they've gone still. While for the most part, the carts full of crystals remain in one place, the huge amount of magic has left more than a few of the miners' abandoned tools still going through their motions. Rusted pickaxes swing at the walls, and dead lanterns swing from the ceiling. Crystals occasionally free themselves from shards of rock to pile into bins, which then empty into already-overflowing mine carts.

As long as you leave them to their jobs, everything will be fine. If you try to stop the tools (and it is the tools themselves, for anyone who might be looking for ghosts) from doing their jobs, they'll chase you down until you leave their general vicinity.

Of course, the eternally working tools don't care much about the structural integrity of the mine tunnels...

THEY ALL PILE UP

...And so, inevitably, there are cave-ins.

Most of them are fairly minor, and you can see them (well, if you can see) enough to just work around them. Some of them are big enough that you're going to have to dig through them first, if you can.

And then there's the handful that block passages entirely. But don't panic! The tunnels are designed around the possibility of this happening - rather than coming to an end, the majority of them loop back around to the main arteries of the mine.

E... ventually...

But you and whoever is stuck with you on this side of the cave-in might be wandering for quite a while before you get there. Hopefully one of you still has a sense of direction, assuming either of you ever had one in the first place.

Comments

Vos/Freya | Transformers IDW 'humanised' AU

[wearmyface]

(Italics is spoken Primal Vernacular, but feel free to understand anyway!)

1- ONE MINOR THING
[Soo, outside of being nowhere near where she was last she looked and not being able to smell anything at all (which means Vos doesn't know she absolutely stinks a strange, almost sulfuric smell (energon)), Vos seems to be taking the whole thing rather well?

...If you count a 5'1 woman semi-stalking the mine's tunnels in nearly full armour minus helmet and parts of the back 'kibble' and with a sniper rifle out and slung over her shoulder via strap as 'Well'.

She has Zero clue where she is, and it's enough to make her wary, though not outright hostile. Still greets anyone she meets with a head tilt and a coldly appraising look, though.] Who are you?

[Her nose wrinkles just a bit. As far as she knows, she's speaking Neo-Cybex because she wants to be understood. Also her pronunciation? It's horrid.]


3- THEY ALL PILE UP
[Cave-ins. Of course. She should have expected this given it is a mine. It doesn't mean it's not a nasty shock to run into a dead end though, and the Decepticon sighs, puffing a strand of hair away from her face.]

....Figures. What next, Autobots?

[Not that she'd object to a bunch of them suddenly showing up right about now. But, because they probably won't, she's going to take the chance to rest on one of the larger rocks.]

1

[anarchia]

[Thankfully, Carnivac managed to keep his sense of smell here. The stench of energon reaches him, and familiarity in such a foreign place hits him like a truck. He quickens his pace in the tunnels, catching up to the stranger, opting to stick to his wolf form - in case of the worst.

When he sees that armor, he's glad he did. But...that's not a 'bot in there. What was familiar had completely been discarded, and he warily stands his ground. There was no reason to give in to fear or hostility, now.

Besides, without his words, he just appears an ordinary wolf. Hopefully, that would be enough.]

[wearmyface]

[Thankfully, it is enough. Vos's quick scan of Carnivac shows nothing but a creature that might as well be an organic cyberwolf. A wary one at that and blue eyes flicker over the surroundings briefly, but Vos can find no reason for it other than her.

Joy. Where's the DJD animal wrangler when you need him? Not here, for one.

Her head cocks to the other side, the coldness giving way to consideration, hands on hips. How to deal with this... Then she's squinting as she gives the 'wolf' another look over. She's no expert on organics like Tessarus, but-] -Red eyes?

[It's Primal Vernacular, mostly because she thinks no-one will understand her.]

[anarchia]

[Carnivac might not be able to understand the ancient language, but in recognizing it, he understands enough.

He begins to weigh up his options- if only he could howl right now, it might be enough to buy him some time. There was retreat, he wasn't too proud for that. Looking at that gun, however, he'd only be at a disadvantage.

Fighting was...well, he didn't want it to come to that. He could wait. Watch, and wait.

Steeling his gaze, he slowly begins to pace around her. Best to get a good look at what he's dealing with here.]

[wearmyface]

[Vos would be down for fighting! But no. Not here, not in an unknown location, Primus knows where, and sure as frag not without backup a comm away if things turn sour.

Which, if she's reading the wolf right, they might? She's pretty sure she could take it down herself, but... She'd rather not be bested by organics again, thanks. While her armour is very much fitted and flexible enough to allow her to move when needed, it's not quite made of the same stuff as any sort of Transformer's plating.

Carnivac'll get about halfway around her before she moves her hands away from her body just a bit, wary and suspicious eyes still tracking him.] What are you...?

[anarchia]

[That gets him to freeze.

Was she reaching for her gun, or was it just a harmless motion? He curses himself for being so on edge, being unarmed and alone and completely thrown off by this stranger.

He tenses, just slightly, readying himself should he need to suddenly move.]

[wearmyface]

[There's no helping it, Vos laughs, a small grin creeping over her face, even as she raises her hands fully, the gun simply vanishing back into HammerSpace, for now.

It seems like the organic's intelligent- but probably can't speak for whatever reason otherwise it'd have made a sound now. But, can it understand?

Time to find out.]

Lo-st.

[...Gold star for effort maybe?]

[anarchia]

[He lets out a sigh of relief as Vos disarms herself. No doubt that she could get it back out as easily as she put it away, though. This wasn't a time to let his guard down.

When she speaks, he's glad he can finally understand. Lost. Not surprising in the least.

He briefly considers leaving her to be, but there were people here he wouldn't want stumbling across her.

Resigning himself to the best course of action, he turns in place to face the way he came, and gives her a nod of his head, a flick of the tail. Follow me.]

3

[motherfucking_ghost]

[Church always finds people with advanced armor plating pretty interesting, if only because it reminds him of home. He's all decked out in proper space marine cobalt blue, and since it feels weird to be back in the armor but not carry his rifle, he's taken to carrying around what looks to be...something like a soft air rifle? Little cannon bazooka thing? (It's a glitter cannon, but he doesn't intend to make a fuckoff old cave sparkly for no reason.)

The 'weapon' disappears in a little cloud of crystals, though, as he approaches the dead end, looking up along the walls, the ceiling, and then climbing up a little ways to start tugging at some of the rocks higher up. It's no go for the first few tries, but he manages to wiggle one and start easing it out.

Progress! He shoots a thumbs up to sniper lady. God he misses his sniper rifle.]

[wearmyface]

[The thumbs up is returned with a bit of a blink, but what he's doing's not what has her attention.

Energon-blue armour is always a good sight to see. It's not the weirdest armour she's ever seen though, even as her eyes rake over it and - yep. That's a low whistle of approval.

Who cares if he's not a Cyberganic? He's got some really nice taste in colours (could use some pinks and purples as highlights and make it a riot of energon) and she's not shy about letting that be known.]

You've got good tastes.

[motherfucking_ghost]

[You know what, that's cool. His husband already approves of it, and it feels like home to him, so if other people find his armor to be in good taste and makes him a hella hot space marine, then all the better. He does a flirty hip jut and flexes armored arms.]

[wearmyface]

[Yea. She's going to let her eyes linger just a bit longer than she should, before tearing her gaze away from the armour and onto what he had done.]

What doing?

[She should work on her pronunciation, but whatever. As long as she's understood, she doesn't care.]

[motherfucking_ghost]

[Meh, maybe she's Russian or like. Peruvian or something.

He motions to the cave in, which looks mostly like a pile of rocks, and grabs a big one he's pretty sure isn't going to move, and mimes tugging on it. Then walks his fingers like a person walking. Move shit, open path, get through.]

[wearmyface]

[Ah.

-Eh, why not. It beats retreacing her steps and finding a non cave-in'd route.

Here Chruch, have some help as she comes up to lend a hand. At least for as long as it takes to get some sembance of a path cl;ear.

She's going to start with the rock you just tried to move. Sure, she has in-human strenght, but as she's not putting everything she has behind this, it's heavy and her armour creaks with the strain.]

1

[daughterofthemark]

[Undaunted by Vos's equipment, expression, pronunciation, or odor, Arianna smiles, and moves her mouth like she's talking for a few seconds.

Then she stops and glances off to the side, frowning.

After a moment she pulls... a funnel cake? out of the Armiger and holds it out. If she can't give her name, maybe she can at least establish that she's friendly.]

[wearmyface]

[-Well. Vos isn't one to say no to food.

Especially not food that reminds her a tiny bit of the energon treats from- when she was much, much younger.

It's still inspected though before the woman takes a wary bite.]

[daughterofthemark]

[Arianna watches, almost curiously. Okay, definitely curiously. New people are interesting!

The funnel cake is not poisonous or concealing a bomb or anything like that. In fact, it's bizarrely fresh, as if it just came out of the fryer. Armigers are cool like that.]

[wearmyface]

[After a few more bites, Vos gives up and pretty much devours it down to the last crumb. Even though she can't smell, she still has her taste, and that was delicious.

It gets a thumbs up.] Go-od.

[daughterofthemark]

[Arianna nods. She thinks so, too! That's why she picked up enough of them that she still has one now.

Then she stops and thinks. There has to be something more than this she can communicate.]

[wearmyface]

No speak? [Neo-Cybext, that is.

But, at least Vos touches a hand to her throat, as if to get the point across.] Can wri-te?

Three

[bastilashan]

[Bastila walks up to Vos sitting on her rock.]

Who are the Autobots? Do you know if this way leads out? I have been wandering for some time now.

[wearmyface]

[This is- unexpected that someone else speaks Primal Vernacular. Not unwelcome though, even if Vos's eyes are drawn to the wrists before flicking up to the face.]

People bound to a system that stands on the backs of others.

[The other question simply gets a head shake. Sorry, you might have well opened a can of worms with the first question.]

[bastilashan]

[She is speaking galactic basic, not primal vernacular. The fact that they can understand each other is part of the magic of this place, but they have no way of knowing that yet. Why is she looking at her wrists? Not that she can see the direction of her gaze.]

They sound evil. I wonder why I have never heard of them. My name is Bastila. I am a Jedi Knight. I do not know how I got here. I was on my ship before. Do you know where we are? Do you know which direction leads out of here? [She did not see her shake her head.]

[wearmyface]

Vos, and it looks like we're both lost.

[Just to get that out of the way.]

The Autobots are- they still fight for said system. They'd see me and mine returned to tools no better than something to be used, as if we weren't people.

[Even as she's speaking, her face twists into hatred. 'Tools' is pretty much spat out.]

[bastilashan]

Well, Vos, I am pleased to meet you [she is polite no matter the circumstances]. Perhaps we can get help each other. It seems as though the cave-in has blocked us off on the right, so let's go left.

To what system are you referring? The autobots sound awful. People are not tools.