( ooc; Johan comes off as calm, collected, and charismatic in an unassuming way. He smiles often and, probing deeper, seems to genuinely have very little ill will towards others. However, there's no good will there, either, not really, which likely leaves a weird mental aftertaste. Overall, that "nothingness", that lack is most apparent. In moments of heightened emotion, one might detect an obsession with death and a desire for destruction, on a micro- and macrocosmic scale. For the purposes of this test drive, his specialization is darkness manipulation.]
i. pentara prime
It's beautiful. Don't you think?
[This despite the echoing nothingness of it all, or maybe because of that. The subtle hum of sentient life's presence has always been easy for Johan to sense, and there's none of that here. Rather than being frightened, he's curious, his chin tipped up like he's trying to scent out the reason.]
[There's so much nothing here. He could walk for years, he thinks, and still not find everything there is to find. There's some kind of poetic serenity to that.]
[When he turns back, he's smiling. Beatific.]
Where do you think they all went?
ii. the court
[The beings here don't seem to mind outsiders too much. In fact, everyone's been invited to the court, whose finery seems to be a day-to-day occurrence in this place. Every day, they have been told, we live as though it is our last day.]
[More than one person has pointed out in stage whispers that that's probably why this planet is such a wreck. Living day to day does not promote effective long-term planning. Still, it would've been unwise to turn this invitation down. There's nothing like observation to understand the way people work, and that understanding is something they don't yet have. Most everyone is baffled.]
[Most everyone agrees--some reluctantly, some not--that Johan is a good candidate for fact-finding missions; he gets into people's confidence quickly, snuggles under their skin quickly. As long as he's not alone, it's probably fine. So: here he is, and here you are. Ridiculous as these clothes are, he acts like he's been wearing them since he was a child and nothing could be more normal. He's pulling it off. Hopefully you are, too.]
[Somehow, you've been invited to the queens' gardens. He sits on a bench, legs crossed at the ankles, and observes. His mind bubbles with laughter at all of this--the excess, the ritualism. With a glance your way, he opens his mind and offers the joke he's discovered, a thank-you gift for watching over him.]
(They don't even need to go to war. They'll neglect themselves into extinction.)
iii. rescue
[A nearly-vacant planet at the back-end of the galaxy. It's mostly desert, hot at the equator and frozen near the poles. Bandit country, or bandit planet, rather. They're not numerous, and they're not strong, but they just happened to have spies in the last place the nest was sent, and--okay. Sometimes mistakes happen. Sometimes hostages are taken.]
[Johan volunteered, not out of any sense of duty or fellowship but because it seemed the quickest solution. And maybe--maybe he thought being far enough away might cut off the link, that if he wasn't in such close proximity, or was perhaps in terrible, excruciating pain for a while, it would shut off.]
[This didn't happen. He has been in excruciating pain, thrown in a bare-metal freezing prison almost at the north pole. He's been beaten badly enough that his right eye is swollen up and he's pretty sure at least one rib is broken. It could be worse, though; the bandits quickly became impatient with him due to his total lack of response in the face of torture. It's just pain, he said, and shrugged against his probably-broken rib, and they left in disgust.]
[He thinks they might be dead now. He can feel the connection again, which is vexing; it's been coming closer, and now it's here, just in the next room, and he heard thumps and grunts and . . . ah. And that's the door opening.]
johan liebert | monster
i. pentara prime
ii. the court
iii. rescue
iv. wildcard