Prototype

[bury the year]

OOC THREAD

 

It was cold.

 

It was never cold whenever he was with them. But, it was under his own volition that he left a potentially-stable and secure life for two weeks of “adventure” and “freedom.” Now, the only things protecting him were the new rows of scales that lined his back, scales that marked him as a freak of nature.

 

‘Wonderful, Vaughn,’ the Dragonair prototype thought as he leapt across the dew-coated grass of Central Park. ‘You’re starting to doubt yourself. This isn’t what you’re out here for.’ He stopped his bounding gait for a second and nuzzled his head against the inner crook of one of his forelegs to assuage a momentary itch, only stopping when the horn on his forehead got into an uncomfortable position. Vaughn growled in discontent and flopped down on the moderately-wet grass, the damp not overtaking his sudden feelings of exhaustion. He had been dashing about all night, after all. There was this uncontrollable... Wait. It wasn’t uncontrollable, persay. It was just... he had to find something. He knew not what nor where it was, but he knew it was important for some reason or another.

 

Peering up, Vaughn met the gaze of a squirrel on a nearby bough, who was staring intently at him and chattering under its breath about how unusual the dog looked. He responded with a terse growl, frightening the tree rodent and sending it skittering up into the higher branches, scattering leaves as it went. Stupid squirrels. They were such gossips.

 

His little train of thought, though, was cut off by another rustling sound, this time from the bushes a few feet behind him. Leaping up and raising the deep-blue fur on his back in aggression, Vaughn started to growl. “Who’s there!?” he barked, half nervous and half suspicious. He would’ve normally smelled the being by now, but this... another one like him? Quite possibly.

 

(((For the sake of ease of RPing, we’ll assume that all animals, prototyped or not, can speak a common language and can therefore understand one another. The different species can be considered to have different “dialects,” though. Also, you may only post if everyone else has already posted once; e.g, no bouncing back and forth between two people.)))

[Shradow]

Ragror had been wandering aimlessly for days through the throng of New York City. He could only thank his new adaptions for his survival, gaining nutrients merely from the sun and whatever water he could find. Surely without that he would've perished by now. He had learned much about the outside world from his late master, but it wasn't quite enough preparation for what he had endured. He was naturally slow, faster since his prototyping but not fast enough to make it through New York's traffic. Resorting to flying was his only option, and it was making him tired. Eventually he finally found a green area where he could hopefully relax.

 

Ragaror made his way through the bushes to the open field, but right before he pushed through the final bit of brush, something stopped him, instinct perhaps. He heard a growling noise, and someone bark out something. He slowly crawled into the open to see a dog, but not any normal dog. He was blue, adorned with a horn, among other things. "Hello?" The animal looked quite vicious, and Ragaror wasn't the fighting type. (OoC: Or a Fighting-Type, lolPokémonhumor)

[fenrir]

Flying was weird, he thought.

 

It was night, and there were less people. It gave him an excuse to try. Try he did, within a few moments he was in the air, floating. Truthfully he didn't know how far he could fly, okay well, hover. Honestly he didn't want to find out any time soon. For the moment he was happy with floating just above trees. It was nice really, being able to view the lower ones in a suitable position. Those mutts and strays had no idea what he was capable of. He was greater than them, and for this he was happy.

 

...But he was also a freak. A freak with no compatriots of any kind. What was he even doing up here, enjoying it? Enjoying what, being a freak?! Unacceptable!

 

Orion lowered himself to the ground amidst a few bushes. He couldn't be seen by other dogs, it would just be awful.

[Guest TheFinalFan]

Meanwhile, from the treetops, a pair of blue eyes watched the canines warily. The owner of the eyes was pretty sure she wouldn't be seen, but she couldn't trust the dogs. They were just like the dogs that attacked her a while back, all...changed...like she was. Her alterations weren't as noticeable, and humans still petted her, but they kept trying to take her home with them! How dare they! She had a home with a master and a mistress and a little master and a younger little mistress and an elder little mistress! She loved the elder little mistress, though she wasn't as little anymore. She had grown up and changed from liking all sorts of pretty colors and bubbly sounds coming from her sound-making box to preferring dark colors and blasting out terrible sounds from a newer sound-making box she had! But her elder little mistress who wasn't so little still petted her regardless. The owner of the eyes then tried to calm down, because if she got too excited, she would transform, and transforming now with the dogs nearby would be bad. She continued to watch the dogs, hoping they wouldn't notice her.

[Quiksilver]

"Come back here!" A vain voice suddenly squawked, and if any of the prototypes within the clearing dared to look to see where the voice had come from, they would have seen a sudden rustling in one of the bushes on the outskirts, an action that would be promptly followed by the arrival of a small red fruit, landing smack-dab a few feet away from Vaughn. A second rustling heralded the presence of a second object that was incoming, but this one was alive; a small, brightly colored bird burst through the bush, zeroing in on the rolling apple with a happy caw.

 

"God almighty, who knew fruit fell downhill so fast?" Napoleon said happily, his talons now tightly clutching the fruit. "Oh well, at least I can finally enjoy my dinner in peace- oh, hello." In his desperate attempt to retrieve the rogue apple, Napoleon had not noticed that he had company. Oh, he saw them now- a strange, scaly dog with a horn was standing only several feet away, and beyond him was a small turtle, half concealed in the foliage. This animal seemed ordinary- but wait. What were those things...oh, of course. The turtle had leaves growing out of him. Why had he not guessed?

 

"So, I presume you two fine fellows are experiencing the same changes as me?" The bird said dispassionately, surveying the oddities his new companions possessed once more. Indeed, this bird too was odd in a way- a small brownish shell grew around his slender red-yellow body, with five red holes glowing merrily on his back, belching smoke. The smoke had grown substantially in the last couple of minutes, a sign of Napoleon's newfound interest. "Oh, oops, did I just ask you guys a question without telling you my name first?" The bird said politely, but with a touch of arrogance also. "How rude. It's Napoleon- at your service."

[Otaku-sama]

Epsilon was quietly eating crabapples on the top of tree. He often ate on the tops of trees as humans of this particular region were quickly alarmed by the sight of a giant snail. He had already had his daily requirement of computer data, which he had taken from a passerby's portable computer. The data was purely for nourishment, as he already had extensive knowledge of human mating rituals. 

He heard some commotion below on the ground. Normally, this would not concern him, but this time, the combination of canine, reptilian and avian dialect made for an interesting difference. Descending lower on the tree, quickly located the source of the sound. It was a strange between a dog, a turtle and a parakeet, all of which had dramatic physical modifications. 

"Three anomalies. Initial assessment: All with increased sentience and physical abilities. Canine identified as main threat. 65% chance of hostility for canine, 14% of hostility from avian, 3% of hostility from reptile. Chance of survival in combat: 32%. High endangerment to grand directive of survival. 99% relevance to main objective two: Find others with dramatic mutations. Course of action: observe and do not be spotted."

Epsilon slinked to the centre of the tree and watched intently, reassessing the situation constantly.

[Shradow]

Ragaror made his way out of the bushes to stand in front of the creature. "So, it appears there are others like me. I hadn't seen anything on the news, so I was unsure if this strange disease had spread..." He curled his leaves around him. "Please do not fear, I have no wish to attack. Greetings, my name is-"

 

Suddenly he was cut off as a fruit bounced down a hill and a fell between them, followed by a strange bird. He was also prototyped, brightly colored with a smoldering turtle shell grown on its back. He introduced himself as Napolean, and it would be uncourteous for him to do anything but the same. "Well, as I was saying, my name is Ragaror. A pleasure."