OOC: PROMPT 9
Scenario requirements: You reach a long barricade of thorns on the other side of the wall. They seem to be moving, pulsating with a life of their own and gift out a strange light. Flowers begin to bloom on the wall. When you press your hand against one, you are immediately assaulted with a strange vision (roll 1d6 to see what it is).
1. You see a skyscraper. At the very top there is a greenhouse. You feel yourself hovering above the greenhouse before diving right into it. There is a beautiful garden inside it, almost like a biodome. In the center of the biodome is what looks like some sort of chalice
2. You see hundreds of dead bodies, and a strange feeling washes over you. Apathy. You stand over the bodies and continue searching for at least one survivor. You hear yourself speak. "Are humans really so fragile?"
3. You fight against humans, but this time they are armed. Their weapons hurt. You are frustrated. They are eligible, but none of them will truly accept your wisdom. You kill many without ever feeling accepted. The feeling continues until the vision is over.
4. You fight against creatures of shadows, what you would consider your own breathren. They come in all shapes and sizes, large beasts and dragons, demons and even the undead. They refuse your knowledge. They are not compatible. They beg, negotiate and even fight against you to stop. You assimilate them for their treachery and refusal to serve.
5. You sleep in a long chamber of vines. Inside it are rows and rows of crystals. Each one is important to you. You tap against one, and it resonates, and you feel a strange sense of satisfaction. This is the power you have collected from those living and dead.
6. [ There is no actual image in this vision. Instead, you are assaulted with hundreds, thousands of conflicting thoughts, emotions, and ideals, all of them not your character's own. Your actual character's nose begins to bleed, and they fall to the ground, convulsing. They are unable to roll any other visions from the above if they reach this prompt and eventually pass out ].
Otherwise, you may continue rolling until you have fulfilled the 250 word requirement for it!
When the event is over, add +10 infection to your character's infection meter.
Characters involved: Joy Ann McKinsley
Extra effect: If you one person rolls a mob in a PRP/SOLO/ORP thread, nobody else in the thread has to roll for mobs! This post's effect is applicable to ALL characters, flashlight or none! // [stacked with] Any player in your party [ carrying a flashlight ] will be able to shine it in dark places. This does an additional +1 damage every time they hit any sort of mob (including boss mobs!) when they flash it at them.
Joy Ann walked around the hospital, hugging her backpack to her chest for lack of anything or anyone better to hug. Everyone's faces kept swimming in and out of focus in her mind's eye and sometimes in her physical eye---or so she kept thinking. The closer she looked, they always drifted away into the fog.
She didn't want to go inside the hospital, however, because she had watched way too many horror movies as an impressionable teenager. She had clicked her radio on for a bit, only to hear a bunch of static and very, very disturbing screams and shots. She'd thought she'd left behind the gun violence at the casino, but apparently not, and that apparently made her feel very angry.
Angry at what, she couldn't decide, but she was definitely angry. Angry and itchy. Were there some sort of killer mosquitoes around here or something? It figured that mosquitoes would survive the apocalypse.
It wasn't long before she came to a wall, and she instantly took three steps back as she realized it was covered in thorns. She knew all about the thorns; the voice at the radio tower had said that they were what was causing all of this nonsense. If it hadn't been for them, her life would have been as normal as it had been. Every morning dragging her overworked self out of bed, making it to her classroom just before the first student was dropped off, and enjoying every single moment of her school day before confronting the sheer amount of extra work she had to do every evening after her 'work day' was done.
No, the thorns had certainly wrecked all that, nasty, ugly things that they were. Only, was that wall blooming? Joy Ann couldn't help herself; she stepped closer as flowers opened all along the wall. Bright, colorful flowers, which she just had to reach out and...
She laid a hand lightly on the center of one of the flowers and was promptly overwhelmed by a rushing of sights, sounds, emotions, colors, thoughts---everything. It was all the world at once and yet none of it hers. She certainly wasn’t thinking these things. They just were, as if someone else’s brain had suddenly dumped itself into hers for the time being. It was chaos, pure and simple chaos with wonderful order and the whole of living things experiences and--
Joy Ann reached her free hand up to her nose, as she realized something wet was dripping down her face. "Oh," she uttered, before passing out cold. Whether it was the sight of her own blood or the act of thinking while someone else was using her head was anyone’s guess. She was definitely out for the time being though, and when she woke up with a sticky face and what she imagined the world’s worst hangover times infinity felt like, she wasn’t sure what had actually happened and what she had imagined. She sure wasn’t going into the hospital any time soon though.
[ Infection Rate: 35 / 100 ]
OOC
Character's name: Joy Ann McKinsley
Character's faction: Prison
Character's journal link: yum_puddi yum_puddi yum_puddi
Character's survival stats: yum_tea yum_tea yum_tea
BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER ++ Hardworking, Compassionate // -- Disorganized, Insecure
= Slightly shorter than average at 5'2", a little bit pudgy and known for giving great hugs
= 22 years old with not nearly enough life experience
= Mousy brown, shoulder-length braided hair
= Worn prison uniform, good for getting messy
= Large smile that has turned to worried grimace
= Usually awkwardly left behind or forgotten about in conversations
