oasismods | March Test Drive Meme

March Test Drive Meme

Test Drive Meme #2

Fire and Ice

Days. Four of them, to be exact. Those four days--four days and four nights--have been nothing but rain of varying intensities, but it hasn't stopped. It pours down in heavy torrents, sweeping away the grime and decay of the crumbling city. It floods the banks of the oasis and it drowns all nearby plants. To the point; it's a right pain to anyone hunting for game. Everything has taken refuge to higher grounds. Well, everything except the infected. They seem confused by this phenomenon. It rouses them from their dormant states and pushes them to be more active. If you find yourself out and about in the rain, you may want to bring a decent weapon with you and a friend to watch your back. ~~Or to trip should you find yourself in trouble.~~

What's worse than all that precipitation, you ask? Why would you even ask that? Haven't you seen a single horror movie? Well, since you asked; what's worse than rain is hail. How could that possibly make the situation more dire? You aren't worried about the insurance on your car, so who cares? You're sure full of dangerous questions, aren't you?

Hail impacts the ground, the buildings, the cars, and the wall with a mighty raucous. The sound as it hits the pavement is deafeningly louder than the sound it makes when it impacts the waterlogged earth, slowed by the trees blocking its descent. It won't take long at all before the group of survivors holed up in the city will notice a mass of shambling Iraites beginning to congregate against the walls and gates, attracted by the noise. They're toppling over each other and pressing against the boundaries. The gate looks like it might buckle under all that weight like a dam about to burst. You might wanna do something about reinforcing that gate, or maybe even start taking out the horde if you can. There are still hunters and gatherers out in the forest. If they come back to this mess, they'll never make it into the city alive.

If that's not enough trouble, you suddenly have another problem. Between the rain and the hail and the infected, a loud crack of lightning hits a tree near one of the crash sites. You can see the smoke all the way from the city and it lights up the edge of the forest. But that's so far away, how could it pose any trouble? You ask, because you obviously have a death wish. Well friend, you may recall a certain crashed shuttle in about that very direction. Such a thing is leaking some rather potent accelerant. Find a way to contain that fire or you won't have to worry about the infected anymore. You won't have to worry about much when the blaze takes out the forest and creeps through the city with a lazy hunger that cannot be sated.

[Mod Note: Pick any scenario, mix and match, or combine them all into one chaotic mess of death and mayhem. Feel free to do a crash scenario from the first TDM. Enjoy~]

Threaded | Flat

Audio Option: Fire
[A voice crackled over the radios. It wasn't streamlined to anyone specific, it was a broad call for help. It could only barely be heard over the static of falling rain and the roar of the fire around them.

The voice itself is female, but garbled with a unique quality to it. Something inhuman. Slightly tinny with something rough woven through it.]

Whomever can hear us, we have a problem. We are in the woods; a lightning strike started a fire near the shuttle crash. We are trying to contain it, but it is quickly growing out of control and we are sensitive to heat. Please, if we had help, this would be much easier.

Action Option: Fire
A woman in a solid purple suit, from head to toe, was carrying a tarp of water to the fire. Moments later, that purple suit of hers sprung to life, latching onto a nearby tree with purple tendrils to pull her into the air and allow her to drop the water onto the fire. When the tarp was empty, she pulled herself away from the fire and dropped back to the ground. It might have been your imagination, but the woman's amorphous suit seemed to scream when it was close to the swell of heat. It shuddered and smoothed back over her body, all signs of tendrils were gone. The silver swirls and wisps settled into a new pattern set in the purple suit.

The fire is flaring further towards the crashed ship and the sand soaked in jet fuel. There were small pops and flares as the flames hit small puddles of fuel that had leaked further from the ship than the rest. The suit seems to pull the tarp towards her and wind around her arm as its reeled in. She takes to the trees and launches herself back towards the oasis to collect more water. It doesn't take her long to return with another tarp full to dump again.

When you approach, she'll toss a curved piece of metal to you. It's bowled deep enough to carry water, but not enough to weigh down a normal human.

"We are moving as fast as we can, but we are only so capable. Please, help us."

Edited 2016-03-01 14:31 (UTC)

-- A) obligatory crash scenario, now with precipitation

Well, that had been a shitty landing. Whatever fuck had been piloting this thing clearly needed to have their neck broken (and license revoked. In that order). Squalo takes a few minutes to take in his surroundings, panic (who the hell were these people? how did he end up here? what the fuck was going on?) and find something to arm himself with - any loose parts, chair pieces or cable, whatever could be found inside would do for now -- and then the obvious course of action is, of course, checking out what's outside.

He's ready to hop out through the hole when he realizes the source of that sound he's been hearing. It's raining. Hailing, even. The visibility is shit, and it's probably a good idea to stay put until it passes or eases up.

Except, of course, right as he's trying to get as good as possible a look without sticking his head out, there's a gust of rogue wind, and a couple buckets worth of water and ice drenches him in an instant.

Know what's really worse than rain and hail? Having like ten pounds of wet hair. His cheek twitches. Three, two, one...

"VVOOOOOOOIIIIIIII!!!"

...surely nobody heard that, right? ~~A few earpieces might've short-circuited.~~

-- B) clean those city walls eh

~~Assuming he (somehow) made it there,~~ It doesn't take long to notice the gates are being assaulted. It doesn't exactly take a genius to figure out who it is, either. Squalo makes a point to climb on top of the wall to survey the... zombies? They don't look much like the Vindice, but even less like normal people. There's a lot of them, all along the wall, though the thickest numbers seem to be by the gates. No surprise.

Well, spartans don't usually ask how many enemies there is, either, only where they are. This would be easy to handle if he at least had a decent weapon. As is, the best he could find so far was probably on the level of a rusty pipe or a sharpened stick.

But hey, he always liked a challenge, right?

If you've been watching him, you'll see him grin, send a mock two-fingered salute your way and jump right off the wall. To the other side. IS HE INSANE? Rest in pieces, weird excitable guy, surely that's the last we see of him. But wait. There's... a commotion.

-- C) i set fire to the raiiin

When he happens to wander upon the fire, his first thought is to bail. Fighting the elements isn't something he's equipped to do right now. His shark could easily form a firebreak to stop it from spreading. Piece of cake. But all he's got is some scrap metal and frankly, it's getting really annoying.

But as he starts walking away, it dawns on him that there's... nothing to retreat to, really. Who knows if there will be any natural stops in the fire's way, and if not, this piece of somewhat hospitable environment would just be reclaimed by the desert. What can possibly be done here, though? Getting some trees and bushes out of the way, retrieving enough water or sand for it to be effective, all of that requires --

Wait. Someone else was nearby. He doesn't need to get a proper look to know it's someone with a still functional brain.

"Heeey! Hey you!"

It's raining. That's the first thing she notices as she slowly wakes, other than the fierce ache in her body that reminded her of what being in a car crash was supposed to feel like. But that didn't make sense; she'd just been talking with Reg about the meeting Deanna was calling, and there hadn't been a cloud in the sky or a car in sight.

Maggie blinked into the dim light and tried to move, her hands lifting to grope at the straps that were holding her in place. What? She was in some kind of... well, it reminded her of one of those pods that you sometimes saw in sci-fi movies. The ones that only fit a single person. But it was also kind of like a high-tech coffin with how enclosed it was, the thought of which only served to send her adrenaline levels sky-high. No. No. She had to stay calm, and she had to get out of there. She had to find Glenn and the others, figure out how she'd gotten there and what the hell was going on.

Unhooking the straps was easy. Figuring out how to get out of the pod thing, that was a little more difficult. It wasn't night, there was too much light for that, but with all the clouds in the sky and the rain on the glass, it might as well have been. In all her fumbling around to find something to release the glass or a hatch or something, she found the backpack at her feet, and that was when she really started to panic. This hadn't been her people, they wouldn't leave anyone on their own like this and she couldn't seen any other pods out there. No, someone had done this to her, to them, and she didn't know who or why. But they'd left her with supplies and somehow that was more terrifying than if she'd just been dumped somewhere with nothing. Though it was practically nothing - they'd taken her weapons.

Something finally popped loose and she was able to swing the glass open, a torrent of rain rushing into the pod and instantly soaking her to the bone. "Glenn!" The first thing out of her mouth was a shout of her husband's name as she blinked against the rain "Rick! Daryl!" She couldn't see anything other than trees and a fire in the distance and -- walkers.

Two of them, moving toward her, attracted by her shouting more than likely. It was pure instinct to reach for the knife at her hip, except it wasn't there. She should have remembered that. "Shit."

Network
[More than a couple pods had come down in the last few hours and getting to them in the downpour was going to be hard. Especially with the gates getting slammed by the dead. He took to the network hoping that whoever was in the pods had survived. And that they'd thought to dig around in their backpacks and try the earpiece. It certainly hadn't been his first inclination when he'd woken up on the dropship, but it was better to check anyway. Just in case.]

This is going to whoever just dropped in the ships. I'm hoping you can hear me. It's raining hard and there are walkers between you and the city. If you don't know what they are, tell me and I'll tell you. Otherwise, stay where you are and tell us you're alive. There aren't many of us, but we'll get someone to you as fast as we can.

My name's Daryl.

[To his people, the ones already on planet, he added:]

The rest of you: try to keep the lines open and help who you can. Call if you need help. Keep to the buddy system. This ain't weather we need to be messing around in.

The Gates
"Get that post in place!" Daryl yelled, already holding the remains of a former telephone pole (about 1/3 of the size it used to be, worn down and rotted over time) wedged against the door. They needed more if the gates were going to hold.

"And get the ropes set up down the wall for anyone we gotta pull over," he continued shouting into the freezing rain. "More survivors will be coming our way any time now!"

ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ.

[ the first thing he wakes to is darkness, the oppressive kind that makes it hard to make out the lines of his own hands, and it takes him jerking forward to realize that he’s strapped into something. something that feels like a seatbelt, and he follows the strip of material with his hands, feels where it attaches to a clip and releases it after a moment of fumbling. it takes him a minute more, to find an indent in the container’s ( for the lack of a better term ) walls that might be a door. he pushes, and the hatch opens to reveal—

a dismally gray sky. a torrent of rain, that hits him square in the face, makes him wish he had windshield wipers attached to his glasses because the continuing fall of water makes it impossible to see anything. he scrubs at the lenses furiously with the edge of his sleeve, half soaked already and resigned to be fully drenched in no time. there’s a backpack, now visible inside the pod, tucked neatly under his eat which he picks up, slings over his shoulder.

and tries to think. mostly about the benefits of staying here, inside his nice moderately warm pod versus going out into the storm. is leaning towards the former, because he doesn’t even know where he is, how he got here, and which direction he would even start towards. besides his mother always told him and clary both, if you’re lost don’t go anywhere. stay put.

but that had been when they were five, and was said on entering a grocery store, not a… jungle.

grocery store logic, he thinks, doesn’t apply here.

he squints out into the darkness, because there’s a shape, something—or rather someone coming his way. and he huffs out a sigh of relief, because a person means getting answers, which at the moment he’s a bit short on. the first thing to tip him off, that maybe this person is bad news, is the moaning which is pitched low and cuts through the sound of the rain.

and then, of course, is the fact that the person’s skin is the same shade of gray as the sky, and it seems to be falling off. molting. and it’s still coming his way. there’s a moment where he’s still, frozen, before he moves. jerks to a standing position, hitting his head on the top of the pod with a resounding thud, before taking a couple steps out of it, the heels of his boots sinking into the mud on the ground.

and when he tries to take another step, gearing to run, of course he slips. falling backwards, palms of his hands slicked with mud, the back of his jeans covered with it and now the thing is so close he can see that it’s teeth are yellow-hued and rotting—

and he screams.

save the damsel in distress? ]

ɴᴇᴛᴡᴏʀᴋ . ᴀᴜᴅɪᴏ

Okay— okay.

[ the voice that comes through the audio channel is breathless, pitched high, and is punctuated with the sound of hail hitting the ground hard. there’s a deep breath before : ] Can someone just tell me that I’m not actually going insane right now. That I’ve been dropped here in a space pod with—

[ a moment. rustling, and then a bit of laughter that is more forced than anything. ] A flashlight, and trail mix that doesn’t even have M&Ms. What’s up with that?

[ a beat. ]

I just got hit by a golf ball size piece of hail, and I’m not waking up so. Not a dream? An hallucination? A very vivid hallucination?

Anyone?

There's way too much rain. She's already in the middle of freaking out after waking up in one of those coffin like things, and she sure as hell isn't planning on sticking around to figure out who put her in it. Her head's pounding like nothing she's ever felt before, but the important thing is she's alive. She ought to not be, she reckons, not with what happened at that hospital. Her memory about all that's fuzzy now and she's grateful for it, because she needs to focus on survival.

She doesn't have any weapons and a quick look around the area through the rain tells her she's going to need one. She's not the cursing sort of girl but she manages to let a choice phrase slip out under her breath as she decides to try climbing up on the pod to get a better view of the area. It's not a real smart idea, she quickly realizes, because she's scraping and scrambling and can't get her footing to hoist herself up properly. She slips and hits her chin hard, crying out as she feels the skin break and blood start to pour. Great, she thinks, she's got another mark to match the others on her face.

It's right about then that the hail kicks in and she lets out a scream of frustration. Her daddy's death is always going to be the worst day of her life, but this one is going down as one of the most frustrating. "You ain't gonna win!" It's shouted to the sky, right in time for hail to hit her in the face and the walkers that were shuffling nearby to come at her running.

It doesn't take rocket science for her to figure out that she can be frustrated all she wants later. She's got to run now, and she runs as fast as her legs can carry her, never stopping until she runs right into someone bigger than she is. She cries out, praying it's not a walker. Just in case it is, she reacts accordingly, and lashes out with both fists flying. It's more of an effort to push herself away than anything, but she's so worked up and confused that her self-defense methods aren't exactly up to par with everyone else.

The first thing Murphy did upon waking was, of course, to look to his left for his brother. He was met with the strange sight of a what he could only think of as the inside of a sci-fi-looking tanning bed. Confused, he looked to his right. Still no Connor. Still in a pod like he was in fucking Cocoon or some shit.

"Connor?" his brother's name escaped because of course it did. Even if he couldn't see the other, he had to be around somewhere near by. He had to.

Murphy undid the seat belt and began pawing around the small space, looking with his fingers more than his eyes. Those were locked on the glass of the window getting pounding by the rain and hail. Not good signs. Where the fuck was he?

"Connor, I swear, if this is a fucking joke, it's not a funny one," he muttered as he found the backpack and pulled it out from under his seat. The food and water and flashlight and - "You and your stupid fucking rope" - were mostly ignored in favor of the field knife. It was only after he got it out and went to put it in his hip sheath that he thought to check for his guns and ammo. Both gone, though his shoulder holsters were still there.

So, definitely not Connor's doing. Which meant he'd been separated from his brother without remembering how. Which also meant...

"CONNOR!" Murphy shouted into the rain as he popped the proverbial hood on his pod. "CONNOR! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU? CONNOR!"

Edited 2016-03-05 18:28 (UTC)

[The weather's least of her trouble. Not when there's zombies flocking toward the fire that's growing out around the tree that's been hit by lightning. She's made herself a shank out of metal she found on the ship that she crash landed in and has torn a seatbelt out as well. Some heavy metal parts were tied around the end of the seatbelt and she used it as a spinning weapon she could clock the zombies in the head with and easily retract back to her own body. She doesn't pay attention to anyone else in the area, just goes after as many zombies as possible. She uses the metal part to strike them through the head, and uses her seatbelt weapon to hit them upside the head and try and dislodge parts of their skull.

By the time she's finally brought down the zombies in the area she's breathing heavy and looks around the area. There's other people there now, ones she can tell are normal. Not zombies, they're here to help. Or at least they sure as hell better be.]

You best be one hell of a firefighter, or things are gonna get real toasty 'round here any minute now.

[Yeah. They probably don't have long to put that out, it's probably a good idea to figure out how to contain the flames, or take off running.]

[ooc: Will match format, prose or action!]

A. Sugar, We're Going Down
Ugh, did someone get the name of the bantha that stepped on me?

[Despite the fact that she's reaching up to touch her head, Leia's sharp eyes look around her surroundings. Dread starts to build up in her stomach. This is not The Millenium Falcon. Her husband is nowhere to be found and she can't remember how she got here. Which is not at all common for someone as rigidly controlled as she is.

She wastes no time in removing the restraints keeping her strapped into her chair and goes to check on the others who appear to be waking up around her as well.]

Are you okay? You're not hurt, are you?

Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying
[Rain in a such a desolate place such as this strange oasis in the middle of a desert is actually welcome. And after so much time on Tatooine and Hoth, Leia's realized that she actually hates most weather. Because of what it does to her hair. Her usual braid is frayed and messy due to all of the humidity.

And concentrating on her hair is far easier than considering the fact that she and the others she's met so far are stuck on this strange world. And that this strange world has decided to answer their presence with ice from the kriffing sky! Or that the hail has woken up...Force knows what that are trying to attack the barrier around city.

But, she's got a blaster and she's determined to use it to help the others. She knows there are people out there still and that they'll need a clear spot so they can return. Most of her concentration right now is split between mentally complaining about her frazzled hair and making sure she takes care of the creatures. There are others around here doing nothing and after taking one of the things out, she turns with a hard look to those wasting time.]

Either help me take them out or get the hell out!

Edited 2016-03-17 08:00 (UTC)

Well, at least all this rain'll clean me up some.

It seemed like a strange thought to think, but really, Rick wasn't sure what to think. Or maybe it was that there was no time to think, because no one in their right mind would hang around when it's raining and hailing all at the same time.

His pace was hardly slow to start with, but he was picking up speed with every second. Finding shelter was important, and the only thing more important than that was finding out what happened to his son Carl and to Michonne, both of whom were just with him. Just thinking about those two names and the people they belonged to brought on a conflicting reaction in Rick's gut.

He and Carl hadn't really been on the best terms lately, and there was a part of him that said it was his fault that things were the way they were. But just as quickly as that thought formed, another one bubbled up to counter it. He'd always tried to do right by his people, and to some degree, he stood by the decisions that he'd made.

Except in this instance, it seemed as though he'd wronged just about everyone. What helped was having Michonne around, which was why things felt so wrong right now. It would have felt wrong anyway, given the unfamiliarity of the area around him, but Michonne was like a rock, and not having her quiet but strong presence around left him feeling vaguely unsettled.

But he didn't have time to dwell on the lack of security, because right then, he picked up on the all-too-familiar sound of shuffling feet, and even if the noise wasn't coming from a walker, the flight response was too strongly wired into Rick's brain to just stand there mulling things over. The need to escape, to find anywhere that wasn't so exposed, overrode every other instinct, and Rick ran.

Where, he didn't know, but if luck was on his side at all, maybe his steps would lead him to an abandoned building where he could wait out the storm and at least try and collect himself.

[It was times like this that she wished she had kept her music box on a chain. Wearable Z-distraction, perfect for moments when you were trapped up on a sci-fi alien pod out in the rain with a bunch of zombies trying to get at you. She's not sure how in the hell she got here, or why anyone would want to transport her to someplace like this. As far as she knows, her old "family" isn't able to get at her anymore. She should be safe.

And yet, here she is. Without her group, in a strange place.]

Back off!

[She shouts at the Z's, as if they're going to respond. They don't, of course, and Cassandra takes it upon herself to kick back the ones who are close enough and leap. She manages to hit the ground flat footed and takes off at a run, not stopping until she spots someone.]

Yeah, you're not gonna want to go that way.

[It's with a firm look that she arches both eyebrows, and waits until she hears the Z's approaching at a fast speed. Somehow, their approaching makes her look satisfied.]

Trust me.

Threaded | Flat

Scorn (Tanis Nieves) | Marvel 616

Superbia Squalo // KHR! // any format is cool!

Maggie Greene | The Walking Dead

Daryl Dixon | The Walking Dead

simon lewis . shadowhunters

Beth Greene | The Walking Dead