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SPRING TEST DRIVE MEME
⚰︎ ⍢ ⌲ ⍚ TEST DRIVE MEME:
Welcome to RUBILYKSKOYE — a dark, horror-smut game where player choices will drive a mod-run storyline about the world and its NPCs. This test drive meme provides a medley of prompts evoking the game's general tone.
THESE THREADS CAN BE GAME CANON if both players are accepted into the game and agree to it. However, if players who'd prefer to start fresh are welcome to reuse these prompts in their own personal logs upon acceptance into the communities. Note: the universal test drive arrival prompt will not be repeated on the coming event log, but players are welcome to reuse the prompt.
CONTENT WARNINGS for this game include: monsters, body horror, dub-con, non-con, religion, blood/violence, and marking/branding, loss of autonomy/self, and mental influences. This log additionally has warnings for: murder, bondage, sensory deprivation, aphro, coercion, waxplay, whips, free use, and orgiastic behavior.
If you have QUESTIONS about the test drive prompts, please ask HERE. Questions about the game itself or the general setting should be directed to the FAQ.
FAQ ✧ SETTING ✧ CALENDAR ✧ RESERVES ✧ APPLICATIONS
THESE THREADS CAN BE GAME CANON if both players are accepted into the game and agree to it. However, if players who'd prefer to start fresh are welcome to reuse these prompts in their own personal logs upon acceptance into the communities. Note: the universal test drive arrival prompt will not be repeated on the coming event log, but players are welcome to reuse the prompt.
CONTENT WARNINGS for this game include: monsters, body horror, dub-con, non-con, religion, blood/violence, and marking/branding, loss of autonomy/self, and mental influences. This log additionally has warnings for: murder, bondage, sensory deprivation, aphro, coercion, waxplay, whips, free use, and orgiastic behavior.
If you have QUESTIONS about the test drive prompts, please ask HERE. Questions about the game itself or the general setting should be directed to the FAQ.
SPRING TEST DRIVE MEME
TDMs in Rubi are posted every quarter at the beginning of the season. As such, this TDM is open until the next TDM is posted in July.
Feel free to post on this TDM until the Summer TDM goes up. Please check the Calendar (linked above) for more information on precise dates.
Feel free to post on this TDM until the Summer TDM goes up. Please check the Calendar (linked above) for more information on precise dates.
IN THE WOODS SOMEWHERE
The chirping of partridges in the treetops rouses you. Light barely filters through the canopy, just enough to suggest daylight. By the time it reaches the forest floor, the light has taken on a sickly green. You lie amongst the dewy mosses and ferns, upon cold soil and feeling just a little damp on your bare skin.Wherever you were before this moment, whatever you were doing or wearing, when you awaken in this forest, you find yourself naked and helpless as the day you were born. As you sit up and get your bearings, aside from a brief wave of disoriented nausea, you seem to be no worse for wear than you last remember.
You seem to be alone. The gnarled oaks and moss suggest no sign of civilization or sentient life. Just flickers of movement from curious squirrels or brave lizards emerging to cast a suspicious eye upon this new creature appeared in the woods. With your feet under you, you'll find the wood is filled with berry bushes and nut trees. The freshwater stream that runs north-south, populated by both poisonous toads and delicious crawdads, is running actively again as the weather warms into full spring bloom, a hint of humidity in the air.
As you explore, you may encounter caches of clothing left in painted crates or placed in hollow tree trunks. They contain loose shirts and trousers, perhaps even a moth-eaten coat, along with a note that includes a bare-bones explanation for your arrival and a sketched map toward town. You may also run into others with stories just like yours. Some may have already formed clumsy nudist groups, others may still be processing their confusion, with no memory of how they got here. Now is a good time to overcome any hang-ups you have about modesty; it's going to be a long hike, and the weather isn't quite amenable to your lack of.
Turn your back to the darker, shadowy parts of the forest and eventually the glow of manmade lights and the curve of a dirt road may come into view. At the edge of the wood, you'll find a town surrounded by a fifty-foot wall of beige stone. The only entrance is an iron gate positioned on the southern edge. When you arrive, the gate is already open, welcoming people inside.
This quaint, historic town of a couple thousand has cobbled streets and signs lit by gas lamps. Wooden shutters protect otherwise open-air windows on the buildings, which are all under three stories with gabled roofs. A number of businesses hug the main street – a clockmaker, a cobbler, a grocer – while residential homes sprawl outwards towards the wall. At the far end of the main street, visible about a mile to the north now that the trees and the enormous wall is out of the way, sits a castle with three towers. However, there's a stressed, ramshackle air about the town – multiple buildings in varying stages of disarray or construction, charred edges to wooden walls, as if some local disaster had taken place a few months back, and the townsfolk are still picking up in the aftermath.
When you enter, the streets are full of busy people bustling about, but despite any efforts on your part to hide or make excuses, they don't seem offended by your nakedness. Even families with children don't gawk or look twice. Those determined to find proper clothing regardless will find that modern clothing stores aren't available – the closest this town has is a tailor's shop and a stand in the central marketplace selling scarves and blankets.
breaking and entering
If you intend to have your character break into someone's house or yard to steal some of their clean laundry, please review the info about game laws on the FAQ and give the mods a heads up HERE.
Fortunately, the most of the townspeople are very generous! Anyone who ask the locals will be directed to the boarding house for both clothes and a place to stay. Accessible through an embellished iron garden gate and obscured by hanging plants, trees, and vines, beyond an overgrown yard in the residential sprawl of the town is a bright-red door, which opens to a spacious cottage of several stories. Parts of the house still bear the dust of disuse, gathered on various furnishings – bedding, sofas, curtains, wooden tables. However, it's already full of people! Once inside, you may notice patchwork repairs have been made, some scorch marks still linger from a fire about a year back, and the place seems somewhat in disrepair
Tonight, a few of the townspeople will help out with the new arrivals. They stock the kitchen and prepare a communal dinner: a thin stew of parsnips, pheasant, and squash. During dinner, they (and those outsiders who've already begun to settle) sit down at the enormous wooden dining room table and help orient the newcomers and answer their questions. The town has recently been brought back from the brink of a terrible calamity, newcomers are told, and everyone is doing their part now to restore it to its former glory.
FINDING ROOMMATES
Don't spend too much time in the dining room going for seconds, though. You'll want to claim a bedroom quickly because each one only has two full-size beds, and there aren't enough spaces for everyone. The last people upstairs will need to double up to squeeze in. Roommates will not be mod-assigned; players should coordinate directly with one another to determine their living arrangements.
Get a good night's rest. By the light of day, locals will help get the new arrivals set up on the coal stove with breakfast. You may notice they're dressed in a way you would almost call normal – at least, in a manner befitting 19th century Eastern Europe. As you find your way around town to get your bearings, folks are eager to help you find a place to apply your skills so you can contribute to your new home.
writer's block?
If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try: naked hiking, acquiring clothing or other inventory items, asking questions at dinner/orientation, or staking your claim on a bedroom!
SPRINGTIDE FESTIVAL
The flowers are blooming, the birds are chirping, and what better way to ring in spring than with sweet blood sacrifice in its honor?All around town, somewhat macabre decorations have been arranged... with a floral, spring-like twist. Animal skulls adorned with painted red-and-pink flowers hang from doorfronts, streaming flowing trails of woven ribbons and ivy. Garlands of dyed eggs are strung from lamp post to lamp post. Stalls line the streets, offering intricately worked leather masks for festival goers along with decorative bits of neckwear strangely reminiscent of a hangman's noose. In addition to satisfying the needs of the curse marks that afflict the townspeople, the overarching theme of the festival seems to be a celebration of communal endurance and defiance of death.
Festival Entertainment includes, but isn't limited to:
- A wrestling ring in which naked, oiled up combatants are also offered a choice of weapon from a wooden mallet to brass knuckles to a tiny knife barely the length of a pinky. Nothing that's likely to kill anyone outright, of course, just enough to spice up the competition a bit.
- Various competitions of endurance upon the stage, from lying perfectly still as hot wax is dripped over one's naked body to a whipping game where the first to yelp loses, and another where prone volunteers have clamps affixed to nipples and genitals, with increasingly heavy weights attached. Losers are hung upside down for communal use, thighs spread and notched for every person who partakes... but all in good fun and the spirit of shared pleasure.
- A version of blind man's bluff where several kneeling participants are blindfolded and their wrists and ankles hobbled with a knotted length of rope. The first to crawl up to one of the circle of onlookers and bring them to orgasm is deemed the victor and may leave the ring, while the losers may be expected to play another round… and another… until they've succeeded in claiming their own victory.
- A crude public shower and sauna have been set up to rinse off and relax after festival fun. Be careful to stay hydrated, because the temperature inside the sauna is steaming hot. Cups of cold tea are served to all in the sauna, leaving a refreshing tingle in your extremities... and an urge to put your mouth to use upon another person's body.
Almost all of the food and drink present are dosed with the Rubean's usual blend of stimulating aphrodisiac herbs, so common in their cooking as to be totally unremarkable – and not something they would warn anyone about before partaking. And of course, there is the ever-present orgy in the background, taking on a bestial, animalistic edge as festival-goers revel in pain and pleasure alike.
For every shared carnal experience during the Springtide Festival, partners will leave matching marks upon each other – a shared bloody 'X' carved on the left shoulder, a bruised imprint of teeth on the right buttock. These wounds are proudly displayed for all to see, with those who've accumulated many marks being treated like rockstars, adulation and cheers following in their wake, toasts raised in their presence, and people eager to approach and further add to their collection.
And of course, those who bear few-to-no marks are all the more likely to be propositioned by fellow Rubeans, and looked askance if they refuse. Everyone is expected to share in the springtime spirit, after all.
As a general rule, the Rubeans attitude toward the strangers among them, also known as Void-touched, is one of welcome, generosity, and social pressure bearing from gentle encouragement to actively overbearing, with an emphasis on conformity. Now that you're here, of course you'll want to start contributing and acting like a proper member of the community! But beware, for not all of the villagers are open and welcoming to the new Void-touched. Some, known as the Zlatniki, resent the presence of newcomers who don't respect their ways, don't offer proper worship to their Goddess, who flaunt their outsider status and lead members of their community astray. These villagers may resort to trickery, coercion, or even violence to ensure compliance.
WRITER'S BLOCK?
Join a competition on purpose to prove your endurance, or alternately find yourself 'helpfully' shoved into line to go up on stage. Find yourself dodging grabby villagers or swoop in to save someone else from being propositioned. Share awkward eye contact or a cup of tea in the sauna.
VESENYA LOVTI, THE SPRING HUNT
At some point, in the bath, while you undress, or even during the throes of passion, you might find the name of a stranger written somewhere upon your skin.
At some point, you might catch a glimpse of an act of wanton, inexplicable murder. A laundress toppling over with an arrow jutting out of her eye as her fellow washerwomen yelp and hurry to make sure she doesn't fall into the well. A farmer enjoying a pint in the tavern, only to fall out of his chair, coughing up bloodied bits of metal shrapnel while the barkeep looks on with a smile. In the aftermath, a shadowy figure skitters down the rooftops and rips a silver locket from around the laundress' neck, and the barkeep casually cuts the farmer's ear from his head. While most onlookers seem only mildly put out by the inconvenience, some even cheer or egg on the murderer.
At some point, you might hear someone asking around. Does anyone know who this is? With your name upon their lips.
If you ask around, you'll learn of Vesenya Lovti, the Spring Hunt and an annual cultural tradition among the Rubeans. For those not in the know, during Vesenya Lovti, a name of a fellow community member will appear somewhere on each Rubean and Void-touched's body. The Duchess has decreed that the goal over the month's standard festival revelry is to kill that person before getting killed yourself, and a trophy must be taken by the killer from their intended victim and cast into the festival bier in sacrifice. Worry not, for their benevolent Goddess will resurrect all who are killed just in time to catch the festival's closing ceremonies. And of course you'll be participating, right? Wouldn't want to disrespect your generous hosts' local customs, after all...
WRITER'S BLOCK?
Murder and be murdered. :') Or do your best to avoid both. Save a stranger from a knife attack, or whisper a warning into someone's ear about the poison lacing their meal. Ask around to find out about your target (feel free to make up NPCs), while trying to stay discreet. But be careful. Interfering too much in someone else's hunt or being too outspoken about 'barbaric practices' might earn you a trip to the stocks, at least until you've learned to be a little more open-minded about traditions that bring the whole community together.
THE FATHOMLESS DARK
At the outer edges of the forest, shadows grow long and the air grows thick. Though the sun never grows warm red-gold with sunset, the wood darkens. Birdsong is replaced by the click of mandibles and the skitter of many legs. Anyone who ventures out this way will soon find it difficult to see before them, even in the middle of the day – eventually, even the brightest magical light source or darkvision cannot stretch further than a few inches. In the void, the air feels heavy, as if it were not air at all but some more solid mass. Almost like liquid-smoke, it presses down upon you. Slowing your movements. Characters who push too far into the void may stop being able to move at all, and find themselves given over to insanity if they collapse, unable to draw themselves out. This is just one of many dangers.
Monsters thrive this far out. Huge, blood-red spiders the size of hunting dogs drop from the treetops. In addition to their venomous bite, which contains a fast-acting paralytic, these creatures are clever: they attempt to use their webbing to entangle any trespassers, binding limbs together or to trees. If you're unfortunate to become fully cocooned, you don't have long before this forest will be the last thing you see.
In addition to the spiders, you may come across the sharp-toothed furred yetis that emerged during the snowstorm, still looking for a meal. Each one hunts alone, a fifteen-foot-tall shambling creature that drips black ooze and super-chills the air around it until your skin feels tight and icy. If it gets the drop on you, you're likely to be its dinner. It has emerged from a long summer hibernation to enjoy the colder weather, and it's starving.
Those who seem lucky enough not to run afoul of the monsters here are in for a worse fate. The void can play tricks on your senses. As madness sets in and you lose all sense of direction, you may also lose control of your body – what is that steers your hands to turn against your friends? Why does it sound like your own voice whispering?
In the fog, you may also hear the voices of those familiar to you – people you know from the town, or people whom you know with almost perfect certainty aren't here. these figments may recreate unhappy memories or force trespassers to hallucinate their worst nightmares. Nothing is as it seems in the void, and when you swing at these figments, desperate to silence them, it might not be a figment at all, but a friend in the flesh trying to help you. By the time you see their true face, it could be too late to stop yourself.
writer's block?
If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try fighting a monster, hallucinating your worst nightmares, and/or attacking a friend or stranger!
RELEASE YOUR INNER BEAST
Something's wrong here.
The marks worn by all residents of Rubilykskoye aren't just cool body art, as it turns out. The town is full of rumors, whispered in shadows and over candles of a starving creature hiding in the dark corners of your chest. Feed your inner beast, they say, before it finds a way to feed itself.
Alas, its emergence is inevitable – sooner or later, the horrible things that happen here pile up and make someone repulsed by the idea of human contact. Someone holds themselves back, bites their tongue, or simply does not believe the stories. Today, for one reason or another, that creature is coming out. Someone hasn't been keeping it sated.
Symptoms escalate over weeks, from monstrous irritability to full-blown body horror transformation, where people physically shed their human forms and evolve into the monsters this place made them. Once a person becomes something more (or less) than human there's only one way to go back – sate the beast.
Abram, the potter, narrowly survives a poisoning attempt during the spring hunt, but the stress of it has sent him over the edge. The salamander shape of his inner beast – duchozweirz, the natives call it – rampages through the stalls of the festival, leaving a trail of char and ruin in its wake and spitting molten rock at those who might attempt to quell him.
(There are other monsters lurking in every townsperson – feel free to invent your own npc monsters and scenarios!)
The marks worn by all residents of Rubilykskoye aren't just cool body art, as it turns out. The town is full of rumors, whispered in shadows and over candles of a starving creature hiding in the dark corners of your chest. Feed your inner beast, they say, before it finds a way to feed itself.
Alas, its emergence is inevitable – sooner or later, the horrible things that happen here pile up and make someone repulsed by the idea of human contact. Someone holds themselves back, bites their tongue, or simply does not believe the stories. Today, for one reason or another, that creature is coming out. Someone hasn't been keeping it sated.
Symptoms escalate over weeks, from monstrous irritability to full-blown body horror transformation, where people physically shed their human forms and evolve into the monsters this place made them. Once a person becomes something more (or less) than human there's only one way to go back – sate the beast.
SOMEONE ELSE TRANSFORMS
Abram, the potter, narrowly survives a poisoning attempt during the spring hunt, but the stress of it has sent him over the edge. The salamander shape of his inner beast – duchozweirz, the natives call it – rampages through the stalls of the festival, leaving a trail of char and ruin in its wake and spitting molten rock at those who might attempt to quell him. (There are other monsters lurking in every townsperson – feel free to invent your own npc monsters and scenarios!)
YOU WAITED TOO LONG
At first, as you hide yourself from your darker impulses, a subtle itch develops under your skin. An irritability that makes you snap at the person who bumps into you on the stairs because all those fleeting emotions that you've been repressing bubble to the surface. Every dark thought you've had about being here, all the fears of never getting home, of being surrounded by ticking time bombs, the anxiety of wondering who you might hurt or what relationships you might betray by doing what you have to do. The anger. Oh, the anger.
Maybe you shut yourself in your room or run into the woods to hide away, but there's only so much you can do to deny the itch that grows into hunger like a spark catching and growing to wildfire. Someone comes to check on you. That knock on the door or crunch of leaves in the wood that fills you with dread at what you might do and hope that you will be sated.
As claws and fangs and scales and spines and fur grow and your body transforms with a sickening crunch of bones and peeling of skin, so do your appetites. If you won't sate them, you'll lose yourself to your beastly impulses sooner or later, mauling friends and taking your fill. Is it better or worse if only your claws get inside of them?
Maybe you shut yourself in your room or run into the woods to hide away, but there's only so much you can do to deny the itch that grows into hunger like a spark catching and growing to wildfire. Someone comes to check on you. That knock on the door or crunch of leaves in the wood that fills you with dread at what you might do and hope that you will be sated.
As claws and fangs and scales and spines and fur grow and your body transforms with a sickening crunch of bones and peeling of skin, so do your appetites. If you won't sate them, you'll lose yourself to your beastly impulses sooner or later, mauling friends and taking your fill. Is it better or worse if only your claws get inside of them?
Balthiel | Warhammer
The first thing Balthiel thought of was his Aspirancy, on Cretacia. Which meant that as soon as he was aware of being conscious, he rolled to his feet into a combat crouch, reaching for anything that could be used as a weapon. Everything on his home planet tried to kill you. He had survived, even before his augments, and he wasn't going to go down, now.
If you are nearby, he will hear the noise of you passing, and start following, stalking you through the woods. He's not making any show of being quiet. You'll hear him. He wants you to know he's following.
He wants you to be afraid. He won't actually hurt you. He just wants to taste your fear.
**Getting a room**
Oh, you thought this room was yours? How about now, with an eight foot tall naked man in the doorway. "The upper floors will not hold my weight." He's just being practical. Unless you want to be sleeping one night and have the full weight of the Emperor's most maligned Angels land on you with a bunch of flooring. "You can leave. Or make room." Awww look, he's giving you a choice!
**Hunting**
This was absolutely stupid, but like all of his kind, Balthiel feels the call of the Blood's curse. While so much here is different from what he knows, the curse of the Blood is still the same. But he doesn't just want blood. He wants the thrill of the kill.
He's easy to spot, so if you got his name, he won't exactly be hiding. He's no longer naked (praise the Emperor!) but he's also unarmed. Suspiciously unarmed. "I beg you to try." That sounds...not exactly promising for you. But in the interest of sportsmanship, he is giving you the first strike.
**Fathomless Dark**
He feels almost at home here, something that reminds him of the murk of the Immaterium, everything slightly askew, malignity seeping upward from the soil. He's never, entirely, unarmed, so the first spider to cross his path got an unpleasant surprise.
And then Balthiel got an unpleasant surprise, because the spider? Tasted TERRIBLE. Even he couldn't get it down.
But at least he has something more like a weapon now: spider legs held like a flail. Did you get lost here and need rescuing? Did you witness him trying to eat the spider? Who knows!
(ooc: I will match formatting! Also he's kinda dark so if you want to do *stuff* with him or get into his nightmares, LMK and we'll warn appropriately! He's actually a very nice guy just a LOT rough around the edges.)
in the woods
A demon? It's reminded of the heavy footsteps of a Cerberus. It pauses and, after some consideration, switches its arm to the Knuckleblaster before scanning the area, head twitching this way and that as it tries to spot what they're assuming, with no further information, is an enemy.
o/
But Balthiel would resent being called a daemon. He fought daemons. Big difference.
He pauses as the thing does, watching it between the tree trunks. Balthiel reaches out, tentatively, with his powers, trying to get some kind of feel for this...thing. It certainly had fought--that look was unmistakable, even without the sudden weaponry. It fought, and it had combat instincts. He's curious to see if it noticed his psychic reaching out.
\o
V1 does not have psychic aptitude of any kind and so does not particularly notice anything consciously (though its hand twitches, it reflexively looks in the direction of Balthiel despite not being able to see anything), but the reading is...strange. It certainly isn't a mindless machine, that much is clear. But it's been fueling itself off demons and mindless sinners in Hell - to V1, blood is fuel no matter where it comes from, but that blood running through its systems gives off a feeling akin to that roiling chaos from which daemons come.
[ ooc: ALSO PLEASE FORGIVE ANY BULLSHITTING, im trying to kludge together what the hell V1 would even like, Feel Like to Balthiel hahah, please feel free to do whatever if it doesnt fit exactly ]
no subject
His gift recoils a bit at the contact, because it felt like the Warp, but not. It has the taint of daemons to it, but it doesn't feel like any of the Chaos gods he knows.
As it moves in the faint moonlight, it seems to look like a Necron, barely. Maybe. But it doesn't feel like Necron. Not even close. Necrons felt bitter cold and ancient. This feels alive. His mouth curls, at the hint of blood, suppressing a growl of hunger. Not the time, he tells himself. He has to figure out exactly what he's facing, first.
"What are you?" His voice is barely above normal speaking--maybe this is a test, too, to see if it could hear him.
((ooc: it was all perfecto! TY!!))
no subject
It stops, as if startled, when it finally catches sight of him. It looks him up and down - quite a bit shorter than he is - and then tilts its head to the side, briefly, at his words.
It doesn't speak back to him. But it isn't attacking him either; it's simply watching him, tensed but not hostile.
no subject
"Can you talk?" Because it was not answering his question, but positioning itself, as though ready to fight, just out of his range.
Abominable Intelligence was a possibility. But if it were, it would have attacked on sight. So he, too, was wary, hands flexing, just in case they needed to be used.
What a fun little standoff. But what did he expect, stalking strangers through the woods?
no subject
That is a question it can answer clearly, at least. It shakes its head briefly. Its vocal components had merely been a drain on ever-vanishing power; for efficiency, it had removed it long ago. There was nothing to talk to in Hell, anyway.
It finally decides that this human isn't going to attack it, at least not immediately, so its defensive, hunched stance eases a little. It tilts its head this way and that, examining him from several angles, as if that will aid in comprehension.
Curious? It most certainly is. But it's smart enough not to pick a fight with a human that hasn't attacked it yet, and besides, it simply doesn't consider a fight worth it. Fighting spends power, fuel, like everything else; like a predator, it conserves its energy for things that will be worth the cost. Not that this thought process is obvious from the outside, of course...
no subject
"You smell like daemons." Of course he wants to know why and of course, if the creature can't speak, he's not likely to get a solid answer. "Are you a daemon?" A kind he hadn't seen before, but what did he know? They liked to possess everything--humans, librarians, weapons...why not this?
no subject
After a moment of deliberation, it steps a little closer, conceivably within striking range of Balthiel, as if wanting to see what he'll do.
no subject
Every Flesh Tearer, but especially a Librarian, like Balthiel, knows of Ronja Nokkan the first pilot of the Victus, and how the daemon son of Kabanda took her through the ship's cybernetic link, using her brain to make commands to fire upon others.
You didn't live long if you weren't at least a little paranoid, in Balthiel's world. And as a psyker, one erred on being a LOT paranoid.
He withdrew one step to better get into a fighting crouch, if necessary, but he kept his hands visible, opening the palms to show he was unarmed. Sure, it was redundant--he was naked as though fresh from a regen tank. No hidden weapons here. "What do you want?" He'd envisioned any possible encounter with someone here going 100% the opposite way, but hey, life is always full of surprises, none of them pleasant.
no subject
It just works here.Its wings shift up with a whirring of hydraulics, and then drop again as it considers the question. Then, it simply shrugs. It's exploring. If Balthiel hadn't started stalking it, bothering it, it would have kept exploring. It's a relatively simple person in that regard.
no subject
The only semi-mitigation to his ego was that Flesh Tearers weren't known, in the Imperium, as, well, diplomats.
Try again, fething idiot. "You just arrived to?" Must be nice to not be naked.
no subject
Quick or dead - you could only be one of those things. It knows which one it wants to be.
A sharp little nod, a dip of its head. At least it understands no and yes, and those gestures translate well enough...
Balthiel's nakedness doesn't even register to it. After all, V1 is also naked. It just doesn't need to wear clothing. As far as it's concerned, everything it's seen is 'naked', to greater or lesser degrees.
This is not helpful for getting Balthiel things like 'clothing' but oh well.
no subject
Balthiel notes the other's response--both the response time and the cause. He grunts, gesturing at his naked unarmed self. "Not really in any position to attack anyone here." If that's any consolation. Plus he kind of needs a reason, an actual reason, other than 'I don't get what the hell you are'.
Right, so time to play Twenty Questions. Surely, with someone with minimal patience this should go over well. "Am I the first person you've run across. Here?" The last word was added because he's trying to be precise. He's assuming the thing has met people before, if not Astartes.
no subject
It nods at being questioned directly, and then additionally and mysteriously gestures towards a particular direction. (What it's trying to convey: Yeah but I've seen some other people at a distance going that way. What gets across: Weird game of charades, comprehension unknown.)
no subject
"Yeah, all right." He got about half of that. At least there was a truce of some sort. "You trying to find more people or get away from them?" He wasn't sure which he was doing, himself.
cw for animal death just in case (v1 kills a small animal)
As if to prove the point it's making only in its own head, there's the rustle of movement in the bushes. V1 is off after it like a shot, closing the distance with its prey almost instantly before it snags the meat creature out of the bushes triumphantly.
It almost wriggles free, but then V1 clamps a hand onto its neck and stops that neatly. It inspects the creature (some kind of long tube-like thing*) and then, unceremoniously and without fanfare, crushes it with its stronger hand. The blood runs in rivulets down its arm, but doesn't remain there for long; V1's armor plating absorbs it, drinking in the fresh fuel as the robot continues to crush the animal, extracting as much blood as it can before dropping the mangled corpse.
* it's a weasel, V1 doesn't know what a weasel is
Not much, but as it didn't need to exert much force or effort to catch it, it's at least a little bit of a net gain. That done, it crouches down to inspect the body as if it's more interesting now that it's dead.
probably same CW
Except, and Balthiel would say this VERY guardedly, his method is a little less gross. Dare he say, more civilized?
Yeah, no that's...that's not accurate.
Still. "You're wasting a lot doing it that way." If you're going to take a blood shower
in this economy, do it efficiently.He approached, closer, also looking down at the remains of the critter. Which would be a lot easier to figure out if 90% of its bones hadn't been crushed to splinters. "Some sort of rodent." He hoped there were more. Because he was hungry too.
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It swivels its head to look at him, tilting its head in a curious, almost expectant manner. Yes, it will take advice. It's not unreasonable, just a survivalist.
While it's waiting for an answer, it keeps on high alert. This human is pretty understanding, and it knows humans need things like meat, so maybe the human is hungry? Hunting together isn't something it's done much of, but it understands the concept at least, so maybe they can find something bigger with the two of them.
cw: exsanguination?
"Also saves the muscle for those who eat that." You know sharing with others. You know what, though? Screw it. He's hungry and though most of the blood has been drained out for ...what? robot skincare? Whatever. There was still something he could make of it. He starts peeling the fur off, because even Flesh Tearers don't like furry mouths, crunching down on some bones. Hey. You weren't going to eat it, right?
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It has a shotgun function, but more importantly, it has fingers that can be sharpened into claws. That might do for this 'finding the arteries' thing, at least at close range.
For long range, it has the Whiplash. That seems simple enough. Like hitting a target with a trick shot, except more unreliable.
V1 turns its head to watch in fascination as Balthiel eats what's left. Clearly this is how humans eat, this is useful knowledge for later. It can see how maybe keeping the meat intact is a good idea, if it's going to share space with humans like this.
It doesn't get long to think about those things, however. There's a rumbling growl from the woods, the stare of pinprick eyes watching it (probably inevitable, V1 does smell like blood).
V1 thinks that this is going to be a great time to experiment with this 'cut the arteries for blood' thing!
[ ooc: please feel free to make up whatever horrible beast is about to come at them if you would like ]
hope this works!!
But Balthiel has a suite of organs that can allow him to eat just about anything, and it's better to have food now than wait and hold out on the slim promise of something better, in a strange place.
He'd thought this was an old Man of Iron, but they did talk and didn't slather blood on them for fuel--probably only because the Abominable Intelligences that designed them hadn't been that creative. But it was some sentient creature in a strange place and he was not trying to start writing an enemies list just yet. Especially not one that would just stand by and watch him crunch through some sort of rodent.
Balthiel turns when the other does, in the same direction. 'Ranodon' he thought, at first, one of the big vicious lizards of his homeworld. And him naked, without a weapon.
Well, not entirely weaponless. He still has his gifts. "Get back," he says, quietly, and takes a moment, and a breath, to start gathering power, hoping he can do it before the thing lunges.
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And then maybe it will inflict those expectations on other people to be funny. That's how it goes with V1!
Balthiel instructs it to get back, but there's blood to be had and besides, this is what it's made for. It steps to the side to give him room to work, and then there's the metallic ping of...a coin being thrown into the air?
Then there's a sharp, echoing crack as it fires its revolver, the electric bullet reflecting off the coin and straight into the lizard's eye. There's a spurt of blood (V1 is vaguely annoyed it's too far to catch) and the beast roars in pain, momentarily distracted.
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All right so the thing was either deaf or garbage at taking orders. Because when he said to stay back, it was because he was going to use his powers on it.
You know what, that's not going to stop him. He sends a blade of lightning from his hand, crackling toward the creature. "We split this one," he says, sourly.
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cw: larger animal death?
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