Scullyosis

Yourself, in an apocalypse

Cool! Well, I've got to go clean my dorm and pack up (going home for Thanksgiving break), but I should have my CS up at some point today :)

When Worlds Collide!

Shepard bristled in reaction to Sheogorath's questions. Give her guns away? This man certainly lived up to his title!
She glanced to the newcomer, determined that he wasn't a threat, and with a clipped, militaristic edge to her voice, she quickly replied to Sheogorath's questions. "I'm Commander Shepard of the SSV Normandy, N7 operative of the Alliance fleet, and Spectre. I'm wearing armor, thank you, and it's currently the year 2183 where I'm from. And these - " She hefted her beloved assault rifle in her hands - "are absolutely not 'toys'. Under no circumstances can you have them."

Her gaze shifted again to the other man. His hair caught her eye, as did the markings on his face. While hair dye and tattoos were more or less commonplace throughout the galaxy, she wasn't sure what the rules were here - wherever that was - and she tried to think of what they could mean about him.

Yourself, in an apocalypse

Huh! Cool idea!
I also like theme of other surviving humans sometimes being more dangerous than the zombies/monsters. Granted, that's kind of an overdone trope in apocalypse genres, but it's still interesting, I guess. :)

Also, for the "appearance" section, could we just put in a picture, if we're comfortable with that? Also, what kind of information is meant to go in the "description" section?
And is it okay to change or not include last names, for security's sake?

When Worlds Collide!

Commander Shepard was, to say the least, bewildered and alarmed to discover that the elevator she had just stepped off of had not brought her to the lower levels of the Citadel, as she had expected, but rather to some bizarre medieval outdoor feast, which currently seemed to be attended by only one other person. Her hand flew to her guns - it was an instinctive defensive action upon finding herself in unusual situations.

The man seated at the stone table before her had an unusual look to him - his eyes were too bright - and Shepard was inclined not to trust him. However, after casting a searching glance around the area she now found herself in, she determined that there was no immediate threat, and stepped forward, relaxing her hold on her pistol. She did not sit, however; merely stood still, keeping the table in between herself and the man.

"Who are you?" She demanded. "And where am I?"

When Worlds Collide!

Alrighty, sounds pretty great to me! I'm excited!
I guess I'll do my character sign-up in a slightly more official capacity, then.

Character: Commander Shepard (Female) [from Mass Effect]
Specs: Spacer/War Hero; Soldier; Paragon

When Worlds Collide!

That's rad :D

Oh, also, Rush - you say that they travel between each others' worlds. Are the characters going to start out being warped to a specific setting? And then, as the plot develops, they get randomly whisked away to different worlds, which they have to adapt to as they try to continue figuring out what in the ever-living heckfire is going on? Am I understanding that correctly?

When Worlds Collide!

OH, HELL YES
SIGN ME THE HECK UP :'D
Edit: I'm definitely gonna play as a hardcore Paragon Fem!Shepard (from Mass Effect).

Yourself, in an apocalypse

I too, also, would like to be officially counted in, as well! :P

Lantern

Just replied! Although if need be, I could easily edit it to have Starbuck do something more dramatic than touching a tree, if there needs to be more interaction with the environment or something. :P

Lantern

Starbuck had been on her way to meet with a ship's captain to barter her way on board when the world shattered around her. Pain unimaginable, blindness, terror, a feeling of falling forever -- and then nothing.

When she regained consciousness, she wondered briefly if she had tripped and broken her neck, and fallen into some bizarre Purgatory. The red light that currently filled her vision certainly seemed to agree with her, as did a vague, annoyingly persistent feeling that she had heard someone screaming.
"What an horribly mundane way to die," she thought. She'd always imagined that she'd go out in some way more heroic and exciting.

Starbuck pushed these thoughts from her mind, and checked herself for injuries. It was an instinct at this point; she'd fallen more times than she cared to count over the course of her adventures. She curled her fingers and toes, gently wiggled her shoulders and neck, coughed a few times to rattle her chest, and gingerly fingered her skull. Thankfully, she found nothing more serious than aches that would undoubtedly turn into nasty bruises. With a sigh and a grunt, she rolled onto her front and pushed herself to her feet, the better to take in her surroundings.

It was undoubtedly very different from the sunny coastal town she had just been walking through. The gnarled, twisted branches overhead and thick plant growth surrounding her seemed ominous, the darkness oppressive, somehow, and she shivered. She spied the silver box, and the hairs on the nape of her neck raised at the sight of what was unmistakably blood next to it, its red color intensified by the light of the lantern. Her senses, already on edge, were now put on high-alert, and her heart beat just a little bit faster.

The metal plate beneath her feet made a muffled clang as her boot shuffled across a patch of exposed metal, and she looked down. She could see the faint outlines of patterns, but the overgrowth obliterated much of it. It looked old, mysterious, and interesting, and she had half a mind to pull the plants away to get a better look. She was about to crouch down to do so, when a sudden realization about the nearby tree distracted her.

It was ticking. Or, not exactly "ticking;" the sound wasn't completely regular enough to be called a "tick." Rather, it was...whirring? Grinding? Curious, Starbuck cautiously approached the tree, warily eyeing the hole in the bark, its darkness impenetrable. She reached out a hand, and oh-so gently touched her fingertips to the bark.