VOICE TESTING POST

[fabricaketions.livejournal.com]

||Welcome to the Transmigration 9. Actually, welcome to this simulation of the Transmigration 9,|| a voice says from somewhere in the darkness around you. ||It is necessary for beings in stasis to receive occasional cognitive stimulation to prevent the onset of a vegetative state. This simulation should keep your minds within acceptable limits of atrophy until you are needed.||

The voice doesn't seem to be concerned about you at all, though. ||You may notice that your mental projection of yourself may seem sluggish, but we of the Transmigration 9 can assure you that this is just a reflection of how you always are. It has just been a while, so you don't remember.||

||You will soon find yourself on a copy of the Observation Deck, surrounded by other beings from the stasis pods. You are advised not to maim or kill other inactive crew members, as the effect of damage to mental projections on the body is not being studied at this time. Your dedication to experimentation is, however, admirable for considering such a thing.||

And then you are here.

[OOC: Feel free to tag this with anybody, from actual crewmembers to potential apps to people you aren't really considering but just want to play around with anyway. Anything helps when it comes to voicetesting! Consider actual crew members just part of the simulation.]

Comments

[kneecapper.livejournal.com]

"I don't have any for you! Go away!" Reliik responded from behind his couch fort.

[coldfire-adept.livejournal.com]

Uncooperative wretch. No matter. Wordlessly, Tarrant worked another Knowing, this time on Reliik. And...

Nothing particularly useful, at least not as far as Tarrant's newfound captivity was concerned. Frustrating. He concentrated harder this time, trying to divine something of their surroundings, but his probing was not met with new information, but the mental equivalent of a surface of polished glass. Protected by an Obscuring, perhaps. Inscrutable. Unhelpful.

Infuriating.

Of course, to the layman, he merely looked as though he was concentrating on empty air.

[kneecapper.livejournal.com]

Reliik risked a peek. Why was the human staring off into space? Then again, who actually understood humans? They were crazy. Mostly.

He'd met one or two who weren't, but not enough to convince him otherwise.

[coldfire-adept.livejournal.com]

Tarrant was getting irritated here. "You. Kobold. Let us say that I am willing to entertain the possibility that you are what you say. How did you get here?"

[kneecapper.livejournal.com]

"How should I know? Do I look like a shaman? You're the wizard!" Reliik hissed and finally clambered out and perched on top of the couch, eying Tarrant warily. "I don't know anything about voices in my head."

[coldfire-adept.livejournal.com]

Shaman. Wizard. Outdated, superstitious terms, used by those who had only a dim idea of how the fae worked and what it was.

"I am an adept," Tarrant stressed. "Not a wizard. What do you remember of the instant before you found yourself here?"

[kneecapper.livejournal.com]

"Why should I tell you?" Reliik snapped, instantly suspicious, "So you can track us down later and wipe us out?"

[coldfire-adept.livejournal.com]

Tarrant made a dismissive motion with one hand. It was strangely formal and precise: the product of a bygone era.

"The fate of you or your kind, as it were, does not concern me. I do, however, want to find out who summoned me to this place, and why. If it is a deception, it is elaborately crafted. I wish to know who would be capable of such Working."

[kneecapper.livejournal.com]

"Like I said, I'm not a sorcerer! I don't know! I'm not even sure where we are!" Reliik harumph, "Are you deaf, softskin?"

[coldfire-adept.livejournal.com]

"And are you incapable of telling me where you were before you were here, or is that similarly beyond your capabilities?"

He turned back to the bizarre view outside, posture dismissive, running a gloved hand along the wall. Uncomfortably organic, just as it looked. Was this supposed to be a living creature he was touching?

[kneecapper.livejournal.com]

"I'm not telling you anything," Reliik repeated and then hopped down from his couch. Well, the man had his back to him....

After a moment of steeling himself, he leaped, stubby claws digging into Terrrant's shoulders as he tried to make himself a perch on the human's head, "What are you staring at, anyway?"

[coldfire-adept.livejournal.com]

TARRANT

WAS SO MAD

Tarrant had a moment's forewarning of Reliik's intentions; he monitored the flow of the fae in his environment out of old habit and its disruption signaled that HE HAD A KOBOLD ON HIS HEAD.

Naturally, he tried to punch Reliik with one immaculately gloved fist. Out of reflex. Reflex also made his other hand twitch toward the hilt of his sword, which (of course) was not there.

[kneecapper.livejournal.com]

Reliik squawked in indignation and pain as the fist connected with hi side. He hadn't even done anything! Yet. He scrabbled for a grip in Tarrant's hair and then clung to him for dear life.

"I didn't even do anything to you, softskin!"

[coldfire-adept.livejournal.com]

"Get off of me." Tarrant's words were reinforced by the workings of the fae, giving them weight beyond a normal command. Hopefully they would take root in Reliik's brain and get him OFF OF TARRANT'S HEAD OH GOD HIS HAIR

[kneecapper.livejournal.com]

Will save failed.

Reliik yelped and after a moment dropped from Tarrant's shoulders. He darted back behind his couch. If the human couldn't see him, he couldn't kill him.

Hopefully.

[coldfire-adept.livejournal.com]

Cold blue light flickered into being as Tarrant summoned the almighty powers of the fae to fix his hair smoothed his hair back into place. He was irate, yes, but was he going to dignify this kobold by killing him?

Not for right now. For now, he was going to see if this hallway led anywhere...

...anywhere but back where he'd started. Tarrant's patience was beginning to wear thin. Bright blue unflames flickered into being once more, and he directed them to the walls of his prison.

To no effect whatsoever.