abraxasooc | TEST DRIVE MEME #8

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!test drive

TEST DRIVE MEME #8

TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to the eighth test drive meme for Abraxas! This meme is run a little bit differently than most in that you'll be asked to choose one of the three different arrival scenarios below for your character to take. If you have any questions about this mechanic or anything else related to the TDM, please take a look at the questions below or ask one of your own under the Questions header below. For general game questions please still use the FAQ.

Our Setting pages are full of information on the world of Abraxas, and an overview of the story so far can be found on our Game History page! Anything on that page - including information about the Horizon and the Singularity - can be assumed to be told to newcomers after they arrive, no matter which faction they are received in. For more information on Ambrose and the apprentice mages, Marlo, and Rowan, please see our NPCs page.

You can also find answers to questions asked on previous TDMs in their respective questions threads.

NOTED CURRENT EVENTS
◎ Rumor has it that two emissaries - a werewolf and a vampire - visited from Nocwich in early July. With them came some wares distributed to shops throughout each faction. A few sparse items may remain for purchase, such as glowing flowers or fine ales, but much of it has now been sold.

◎ New arrivals in THE FREE CITIES may hear a bit of chatter around Cadens about art, politics, and recent performances involving its sister city, Libertas. It's all standard fare - the kind of topics spoken about over a beer or in line at the market - but there's a small stir in the air.

◎ Lately, locals in SOLVUNN have begun to approach the Summoned with a sort of awe and respect. New arrivals will find themselves treated much the same way and may be asked for advice or given gifts that seem like offerings such as wine, harvest bounties, or some delicious goat cheese. Your character is free to turn these down and should they turn down enough people, they will not be bothered further as no one wishes to offend them.

Arrival

You awaken suspended in the abyss, silent darkness stretching out in all directions. If you try to yell, you'll find that the sound doesn't carry. If you try to move, you'll find it's impossible to tell whether or not you're actually getting anywhere. If you reach for an item you were carrying last time you remember being awake, your hand will only touch bare skin.

You're naked and floating helplessly through the void, and what little air you have in your lungs is running out.

There's a pinprick of light that almost looks like a faraway star but as it grows it becomes clear that it's actually quite close. Through the opening you can see a bright room, but it's hard to make out any individual objects, as if you're looking from beneath rippling water.

Scenario One: Welcome to Thorne

A hand plunges through and you realize water is just what it is. Whether you take hold of the hand or not it will grab you and yank you up through the surface, lifting you out until you're sprawled on solid ground. Once you catch your breath, you can get a better look at the surroundings: tall trees and even taller stone pillars surround the platform you're laying on. Behind you is an ornate fountain, the base of which is so deep and so dark you might be compelled to scramble away from it lest it suck you back in to that endless abyss. Ahead of you are the walls of a large castle with several tall towers reaching up towards the sky.

If you had any powers, they feel unusually weak. Attempts to use magic or enhanced strength or powers of any sort fizzle out without any effect, but they don't feel completely gone, either.

Set into an indent on a marble slab behind the fountain is a card bearing the image of one of the arcana.

An apprentice mage - the one whose hand lifted you out of the fountain - brushes the water off on their robes and runs back to join a group of three others, who all stare intently at a mage with highly decorated robes and a large, heavy book. He peers up at you for a moment and starts flipping through the book.

"One moment," he says, not bothering to look up from the tome. He looks tired. "I am Ambrose Rhett, the High Mage of the Kingdom of Thorne. We’ll explain everything in a moment, but for now, please calm down. You’re completely fine."

Regardless of your response, he keeps flipping through the pages, until he stops on one specific passage, stares at it for a moment, and then sighs with relief:

"Finally!"

Ambrose's expression brightens, relief visible across his features. He waves one of the apprentices over with a fine silk tunic, pants, and some basic sandals and with a wave of his hand they reshape to fit you perfectly.

"Oh, thank heavens," he says, closing the book and approaching you with a sort of worn-out relief. “I was beginning to believe we’d never get it exactly right.”

Now that he's not hunching over the book, he doesn't seem quite so stuffy and inapproachable. The apprentices all seem to visibly relax, and the one that handed you the tunic stops to take the tarot card down from the marble slab. If you show any curiosity about the card, they'll let you take a longer look, but won't let you touch it.

"Please, come with me," he says, motioning for you to follow him towards the castle. "As promised, my pupils will explain your current situation. And, ah - if you had any magic of your own, or other special abilities you can't access right now, fear not, they'll return within the week. The summoning takes a lot out of you."

One of the apprentices steps forward and rattles on and on about the castle, Thorne itself, the names of a bunch of royals and nobles, and of course, your reason for being here. The Kingdom and the world itself is in great peril, and tales of your exploits have reached far and wide across universes. If asked about these exploits, the apprentice will simply smile and shrug. The High Mage was happy to see you and that's good enough.

Once inside the castle you're taken to the North Wing, which has been set up as living quarters for you and your fellow newcomers. There are four people to a room, but each generously-sized bed has opaque curtains that can be drawn around it. You can meet your roommates here and discuss your shared situation (those who were previously brought in may have a great deal of information to tell you), or you can wander around and meet the others.

There's also a dining hall stocked with a rotating 24/7 buffet in celebration of the new honored guests. Somehow, your very favorite food is part of the rotation (or at least an attempted recreation of it given the limited technology available to the Thorneans). The town surrounding the castle is all abuzz as well, with most shops and services willing to give free samples of their wares to the new arrivals.

You may also notice that your sign is embroidered on your tunic: the same image you saw on the card from before with the name of the sign itself beneath it. If you ask the castle residents, they'll tell you a little bit about your sign (and will mostly stick to the positives, although some might point out the negatives).

Last (and, if you ask anyone else in the castle, least) there is a worn stone staircase leading underground to the dungeon. You can go there, if you wish, but all powers are restricted in the dungeons and most of the cells stand empty.

Scenario Two: Welcome to the Free Cities

You find yourself pulled from the water by a pair of strong hands. Dry warmth hits you at once as you're set on a warm hard floor. As your senses return you realize you're on dull ruddy stone and surrounded by strangers. Men and women in unfamiliar uniforms of brown and red leather stand in a semi-circle around a small pool of water. The very pool you were just pulled from. The water is still now, rimmed in pale gold tiles with odd symbols etched into them. Across it on the far side is a raised pedestal with a card propped on it. The card bears an arcana symbol.

You feel weak. Drained. Any abilities or magical powers you have seem far away and impossible to access. You're in what looks like a cave lit by dozens and dozens of torches set into the wall. There's no furniture or decoration to be seen besides the pool. It's almost uncomfortably warm and there's the sound of rushing wind somewhere in the distance. Flickering shadows obscure the faces of the guards. A robed woman stands off to the side, looking at you anxiously and then to the authoritative woman standing before you. She's grinning, dressed in a fancier uniform than the others. There's a sword at her hip. A guard covers you with a blanket and returns to their place in the semi-circle.

The woman with the sword gives a nod of approval and smiles warmly.

"Sorry about the circumstances."

She gives you a good hard look before standing again.

"Take a minute, catch your breath, you've had quite a shock. Take it nice and easy. I'm Prime Minister Marlo Reiner and you're in The Free Cities. That nice lady over there will explain everything to you and get you settled." A nod to the robed woman off to the side.

Marlo Reiner steps back and the robed mage approaches to help you up.

"Come with me, please." She brings you out of the cave through a corridor that angles upwards until you emerge in what looks like some kind of storage facility. Shelves of wooden boxes and cloth bags line them, unidentifiable parts of what might be machines are tucked into corners and propped against shelving units. "This is one of the Free Cities' outposts," the mage explains as she leads you. "We're honored to have you with us, I'm sure you have many questions but please save them. You need to recover!"

You'll learn you're in the Cadens Desert Outpost 003, a military outpost on the outskirts of Cadens city. You're brought to a room in the barracks that's been prepared. Each barracks room is rather sparse and utilitarian. Six simple beds set against the wall, three on each side of the room, each with a trunk at the foot of it. You're told the world is in a delicate and dangerous times and you're needed to help. You're important, you're told, and they're very grateful you're here.

You're asked to stay close for the time being, but to make yourself at home. The outpost is more a proper military base than the name implies, with full facilities. The barracks have a communal bathing room at the end of the hall, with curtains that can be pulled around the individual raised round tubs for privacy. There's a mess hall that has food available from sun up till a few hours after sundown. You're even encouraged to make use of the training grounds, if you'd like, with non-lethal training weapons available for use and obstacle courses set up. And the city of Cadens is only a couple of hours away by wagon - though you're asked initially to please be back at the outpost within a few hours of the sun going down.

For your own safety.

Scenario Three: Welcome to Solvunn

The feeling of floating is the first sense that comes to you as the edges of unconsciousness start to ebb. Sunlight filters through the rippling water as you open your eyes, making you squint. Before you have the chance to panic and inhale, firm hands grasp your arms and pull you to the surface of the water. Moments later, soft warmth is wrapped around your shoulders as you're guided on unsteady legs out of a pool of water. You're lowered to the soft grass. Men and women in simple garments with lavish embroidery stand by, waiting with bated breath, glancing seriously at an old man in an ornate robe. He holds an old leather-bound book in one hand and in the other is a card bearing an arcana symbol. His eyes move quickly over the page, and he mumbles idly to himself.

Any strength you may have possessed feels as though it has slipped through your fingers. Any abilities or magical powers you have don't come to the surface no matter how hard you try. You're in a grassy clearing in the midst of a circle of large stone slabs stacked to look like doorways. In the middle is the same glimmering pool you were just pulled from. A gentle breeze blows through, carrying the scent of flowers and herbs from an ornately decorated altar set off in front of one of the stone doorways. The mage closes his book and steps out of the water, addressing a matronly old woman. Behind her are two younger people, a rough-looking man, and a meek young girl, both of whom are also watching the mage.

“I detect no ill will from the gods, it seems we've been blessed with success.” Those that had gathered all breathe a sigh of relief and now seem pleased.

The old woman smiles and steps forward, offering to take your hands and help you stand. “Any gift the gods give us is one we will happily take. I'm certain you have many questions, and they will all be answered in time. For now, rest and know you will be taken care of.”

She pats the top of your hand and steps away with a serene smile, letting one of the others come forward with some clothes that seem to fit you perfectly. Once you're dressed, someone approaches to drape a delicate-looking charm depicting a long-horned creature with large wings on a thin chain over your neck. Ask around later, and you may find that it is a symbol of Vielehauffe, the God of the Herd.

The rough-looking man from before steps forward once you're decent and motions with his head outside of the stone circle. His speech is informal, his consonants harsh.

“Hold your horses, I can see all those questions coming about! Rowan March, at your service. I'm one of the council members of Solvunn. There's a lot to discuss, but it's best talked about over a hot meal.” He leads you to a horse-drawn carriage and helps you up into the back. He talks the entire ride to the settlement.

You find out you are in the Primary Settlement, the first of three that make up Solvunn's great territory. The settlement is situated between two lakes and is humming with life. You're brought to the center of town and escorted to an apartment above one of the establishments in town. Rowan explains that the living conditions are temporary if you'd like them to be, that local families would also be happy to host you in their home. That there are others like you who have also taken up residence within the three settlements. You're told that the world hangs upon the brink of disaster and that there are those in this world that are happy to see it fall to ruin with their meddling.

You're important. The gods have graced them with your presence. They're delighted you're here. Welcome to Solvunn.

Everything you need has been provided in this humble apartment, and if it hasn't, there are shops that line the streets and a marketplace in the center of town. Owners of some establishments or stalls are more than happy to give out samples or barter with your time for their goods. Babysitting can be a very lucrative business. You're told of the other settlements, that they'd like you to stay here for now, but if you can find a family to host you, the secondary and tertiary settlements are best to get to with an escort.

There are tales of travelers visiting the secondary settlement without invitation disappearing without a trace. The gods are as hungry as they are protective, young traveler.

You’ll find that there are more than enough activities to throw yourself into to better settle into your new life in Solvunn. Work is done in the first part of the day so that families can spend the rest of it together in leisure and work on their crafts - whatever those may be. For those children who are not of school age, they need nannies or storytellers, and there’s always a gaggle of them running about unsupervised. Families with livestock can always take a spare hand, especially since farms are so spread out, they have a tendency to wander. Whatever skills you may possess can always be of use to the community or to honor the gods.

If any of these options are no good for your lifestyle, the main roads between settlements can always use a bit of monster clean-up… just make sure you don’t go alone.

Questions

How many slots are open?
Please check the Taken page for how many player, franchise, and canon slots are available. Activity check will be processed before applications open, so the count may change between now and then. Existing players can apply for a second character without restriction.

How do I choose a scenario for my character?
Pick whichever situation appeals to you most. Which faction your character is drawn into has nothing to do with their personal morality, beliefs, or how highly they regard themselves and their own accomplishments. Anyone can be put into any one of the situations.

Can I try out more than one scenario?
You can! But please keep in mind that only the one you eventually choose can be game canon, if you decide to keep any of your TDM threads.

What happens if my character refuses to comply with the NPCs?
They will be forgiven for their moment of panic or anger if they have one, and the faction leaders will try to calm them and persuade them further. If they put up too much of a fight and/or start actively attacking anyone, they will be warned once that everyone is willing to put them back in the well where they came from (see below), and if they continue to fight they will make good on that promise.

My character intends on causing a lot of trouble (destroying parts of the cities, murdering the NPCs, etc.), what would happen to them?
Characters who make too much trouble for the mages and other NPCs would be thrown back in the well (which will mean drowning in the void, not returning home). Brawling with other PCs and causing minor damage is fine and will be greeted with a cranky attitude and intervention from various NPC guards, and there will be plenty of opportunity for destruction and murder later, but for now the Abraxans have no desire to keep huge liabilities around.

I want to wildcard a prompt or use one of the prompts from an earlier TDM that isn't on this one (eg. the library), can I do that?
Yes, in terms of the settings. As Thorne is no longer imprisoning any newcomers, that option is no longer applicable.

Is the power loss for characters permanent?
No, but it does take a week or so for their powers to be back in full, and certain powers (determined on a case-by-case basis) may require nerfs. If your character has world-breaking powers, please discuss with the mods what modifications may be necessary.

Can my character leave the bounds of the faction?
In Thorne, characters can leave the castle but not the city. In Cadens, they can take a trip from the outpost to the city. In Solvunn, they can explore the entirety of the Primary Settlement.

Can my character eventually change factions?
Yes. While the faction borders are currently closed, there will opportunities in the future for characters to relocate. For the time being, they are stuck where they are.

How much will my choice of scenario affect my character's plot later on?
This choice will determine where your character initially lives as well as the bias of the information they receive from NPCs (although other PCs can and most likely will give it to them a bit more straight). This decision - and every other major decision you make in game! - will also be used to flavor some mod surprises that will be coming down the line.

Don't get too anxious about this choice, though; this is just one choice you'll get to make in a game that has a lot of them, and every character in every scenario can work their way towards many, many individual goals and outcomes. You're not locking yourself out of anything in the future via the choice you made on the TDM. It will primarily impact the immediate future with the far-reaching effects being up to each player.

Are TDM threads mandatory for my application?
No, you may use other samples, but we encourage you to post to the TDM and get a feel for this game and its mechanics before you join. If you do not have a TDM thread you will still need to choose one of the three scenarios on your application.

What if I haven't settled on a sign yet?
You can ignore sign-related prompts if you're undecided (or try out different signs in different threads).

Can my character go to the Horizon?
First time visitors to the Horizon must be taken there by other characters, through either shared meditation or a physical journey to the Singularity, and all first-timers experience memory loss. For the purposes of the TDM, we suggest against using the Horizon.

What about making use of the network?
Much like Horizon they would need to be introduced to it by another PC, as no NPCs would be aware of the network or be able to access it. Because of this we would advise against using this mechanic for TDM top-levels.

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Threaded | Flat

1. Arrival/Barracks (cw for mention of a corpse and its state)

For a moment the last seven years or so are nothing but a distant memory. All there is for Kaz in that moment is water and memories. A bloated body beneath his own worn and weak body, clinging tightly to his brother’s corpse within only one thought in mind. Surviving.

Cold water numbed his extremities, too weak to make it, the lights of Ketterdam growing sharper, growing brighter even as he sinks further beneath the water, not sure he’s going to make it.

He breaks the surface of the water, realizing someone is clutching at his hands, his arms, hauling him out of the water. The stadwatch goes through his mind, wondering what they’ll do with him, how he’ll explain it all… even as reality comes racing back to him.

Jordie’s dead. Long dead and gone. He is Kaz Brekker. Bastard of the Barrel. Dirtyhands.

And he’s naked.

Scrambling backwards over the dry stones, ignoring the scrape and grind of it against his skin as he moves as best he can until his back hits a wall. Feeling as weak as he had that night when he was ten, still sick with firepox and fighting for his life, and he wonders if that’s what he’s doing here as well and just doesn’t know it yet.

“Don’t! Just don’t!”

Voice fairly quavering as he warns back the guard who absolutely does and settles a blanket about his shoulders. Kaz glares as he gathers it about himself. Taking it all in with a dark glower, looking as angry as he can muster and in his condition looking a bit like an indignant wet cat even as the stifling air already begins to dry the dark hairs over his brow.

He follows, though suspicious not only of this so-called prime minister but of the others around him in blankets and various stages of dryness. Staying close to the back, moving with carefully measured steps. The stones may be worn for bare feet, but moving without his cane is not the easiest for him, especially in trying to hide his limp… and knowing he’s failing despite that.

“Kidnapping people for conscription seems a bit much,” he mutters, taking in the building where they’ve found themselves.

Kidnapping is definitely how it feels, and he wastes no time going through what he’s giving once in the barracks, dressing with sharp, precise movements. Clothes are a start, even if he finds himself clutching and releasing his hands, as uncomfortable with their bareness as he is with his uneven gait as he moves through the outpost.

He explores what they have from the mess hall to the even the training grounds though he doesn’t participate. Kaz Brekker was never military material. Not this kind of military, at least and he makes that clear when asked though it supports what he had suspected upon being hauled from the water.

Being unwilling to join them doesn’t stop him from seeking answers in a careful and methodical way. There isn’t a door he won’t try, a book he won’t flip through, and if he’s found checking behind curtains and generally finding himself looking into every nook and cranny he can.

Even if the room is occupied, or he’s not the first one there looking for answers.

2. Cadens

Taking a day or two to explore the outpost and get his bearings, Kaz takes advantage of the wagon to the city of Cadens itself. Getting about isn’t easy as he explores the center of the city as best he can on foot and without his cane. It’s frustrating as it should be humbling, doing his best to disguise the damage.

Which means often being found in the shadows of a building, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed as he draws sharp breaths to work through the pain. In those moments, despite his need for answers, seemingly trying to avoid others. Even if he’s pale with pain that he ignores as if that will make it go away.

That pain doesn’t stop him from plying his oldest trade, easily unburdening others of coin or anything else they might have on them of interest. It’s been years since he’s had to use this on the streets like a common urchin, but it’s where he began and he’s good at it. Even if he hates how close it brings him to others, unable to find gloves thin enough to do him any good on the streets.

He finds himself exploring the taverns and bars most. People are more likely to talk when they have drink in them, whether in good spirits or bad. So he situates himself close to others, listening while staring moodily ahead. Not that he entirely hides his reaction to something he’s heard, frowning heavily as he glances at someone nearby. He shifts where he sits, offering what might be an attempt at a smile.

"So... Libertas? How far is that? Only had Cadens mentioned to me." Which might reveal how new he is to this place, which is harder to avoid than he'd like.

It isn’t as if he isn’t used to pushing on through adversity though, unwilling to let it slow him down as he tries to get a sense of this place that reminds him of home, oddly enough. If all of Ketterdam and Ravka and even the Little Palace itself were all shoved into the same city and just about as crowded. He misses the Barrel where the locals parted to let him through and even tourists didn’t often stand in his way.

So when he finds his way blocked, Kaz reacts like… well, himself, huffing a breath as his dark glare settles on someone in his way.

“Would it be too much to ask you not block the sidewalk? I’m sure the building is no different than ones you have back home. Bricks. Beams. Supports.”

Please, correct him on this. Even if it’s a lie.

Eventually he finds himself in a tavern called The Sarstina Inn that reminds him of home, even if he’s acutely missing the sounds and scents of the Crow Club. The Barrel is in his blood, and he could do with a bit of assurance he’ll find it again. Or make it his own here.

It’s getting late, or perhaps it's early on another day, but he settles in a chair watching the door, dark eyes taking it all in even when he’s not looking directly at something. Using coin that he obtained from someone - whether they knew it or not - he orders a drink and forces himself to sip it rather than drowning his pain in liquor.

3. Wildcard

(Open to any interactions around the outpost or in Cadens. Kaz is a very good pickpocket and a master of sleight of hand though he’s not used to metahumans beyond the Grisha and those with extra sensory powers though he will do his best to talk himself out of confrontations. Also I will match brackets or prose though I tend to default to prose.)

[Ben is coming in from just after the end of the Obi-Wan Kenobi TV show. LMK if you're comfortable with spoilers or not, I'll do my best to avoid them anyway.]

Solvunn-Arrival

Ben's not sure what to think about his present circumstances, but he takes the meal that's offered, and listens to what they have to say; they wouldn't have expended all this power just to bring him here just to poison him at the first opportunity. And if they wanted to capture him, it would have been easy to do so after he'd been pulled out of the pool.

More troubling is that he cannot feel the Force, not outside of a muted, barely-there connection weaker than even when he was at his lowest during his exile on Tatooine. They assure him his abilities will return in a week.

Regardless, they've been plenty generous with their meal. More than Ben needs. Finishing up, and wiping at his face with a napkin, he gestures at his plate to whomever is next to him. "I'm finished, but if you'd like to take what's left, be my guest. I think I may go explore a bit."

The Primary Settlement

Solvunn reminds him very much of some of the smaller rural Outer Rim communities he visited as a Padawan with Qui-Gon, before the Clone Wars and the rise of the Empire. People working, going about their daily lives without living in fear of an attack, or being visited by stone-faced authorities in uniforms. Though he's careful to remind himself that's at least the image being presented to him; he must be mindful of his surroundings, especially while his ability to commune with the Force is gone.

Unfortunately, he finds it difficult to reconnoiter without a well-meaning townsperson arriving with another gift. He politely refuses the wine, but did take some of the cheese, fruits and vegetables from the harvest, just enough to keep him going a few days.

"No, please. Thank you, this is very generous, but this is your harvest. I'm well-looked after, I assure you." His words aren't unkind, and he means what he says; villages like this live or die on their harvests, he won't take more from these people than he absolutely has to.

When he's invited to join the harvesting however, he decides to take them up on that offer. There's a farm on the outskirts that needs help with an apple harvest, so Ben once again finds himself sitting with others on their way out of town. But this is a traditional wagon, the kind of animal-driven vehicle the galaxy by and large abandoned a long, long time ago, and these people aren't the poor and desperate of Anchorhead.

One of those little talismans, the same kind that Ben was offered and now wears around his neck, falls to the ground of the wagon, landing by his feet. Ben reaches down and picks the small trinket up. "Someone lose something?" He asks, holding it up to the crowd.

As the workday draws to a close, much earlier than usual, Ben relaxes by a fenced field, drinking from a cup of water that was provided for him after a few hours of work, when something from behind noses him gently in the back. Turning, he finds he's attracted the attention of a fine-looking steed, who seems to have taken a personal interest in the man.

"Well. Hello, there." He offers, gently raising a hand to stroke the horse's mane and neck. "You're a rather friendly fellow, aren't you? Yes, hello." The animal seems pleased by the contact, and Ben seems in no rush to head back just set.

As dusk begins to fall over the Settlement, Ben finds a quiet, out-of-the-way place to settle down and meditate. While he would like to take his hosts at their word about his powers coming back, he'd be remiss if he didn't try to stir some connection with the Force himself through the old practices of meditation and stillness.

Sitting cross-legged, Ben closes his eyes and empties his mind, attempting to reach out, find some sort of connection. One connection in particular, one he had just finally become ready for in particular.

For a long few moments he feels or hears nothing but the wind, but for a moment, maybe there's...there's something.

"Master?" His voice is barely above a whisper. "Are you there?"

Abraxas Legends/Non-Canon: Thorne

For someone who's lived on his own for so long, the communal apartments offered to Ben and the other new arrivals are something he has not experienced in a long time, a long time. The accommodations seem fine enough, at least. Better than a sleeping roll in a desert cave, at least.

He hears the door open. Another roommate already, it seems. "Ah, hello there." He nods over his shoulder, absent-mindedly. "I'm afraid one bed's already been claimed but I believe the rest are still available." Not that he has much with which to claim said bed. "Please, make yourself at home." He'll be stepping out anyway before too long, try to get the lay of this place.

Ben spends some time in the library, looking for books of history primarily, on Thorne and Abraxas in general. Anything related to this "Singularity" that is apparently central to why he's been brought here too.

Later on, closer to the evening, he roams the gardens. Thorne has a general air and ostentation that puts him on edge; the pomp and circumstance seeming more like Serenno than the somewhat more egalitarian Nubian or Alderaanian nobilities Ben tends to prefer though he knows first impressions can be deceiving. And the gardens are lovely, and peaceful, removed from the hubbub and crowds of the castle. While he'd like to take his hosts' word that his connection to the Force will return in time, Ben would be remiss if he doesn't try himself first. The gardens seem like a good place to try via the old arts of meditation.

He hopes, perhaps, that someone unintended might have come along with him, and that by reaching out, Ben might be able to restore the connection he'd only just become ready to see.

Edited 2022-07-20 18:51 (UTC)

ʙᴀʀʀᴀᴄᴋs.

[ Having changed into clean garb - a pair of breeches that she needs to roll up at the ankle, and a loose short sleeved shirt - Kimiko wanders the military base and does her best to tease any potential knots out of her damp hair. She feels drained and sluggish about the feet, power having sieved its way out of her and left somewhere at the pit of the well. Keeping a keen eye open for anyone she recognises, she studies face after face, and offers no explanation should anyone catch her brief stares.

In the mess hall, she attempts to recoup her energy by helping herself to three or four of everything and going at it with a surprisingly tidy fervor. The contents of her tray disappear quickly and gladly, but no one will ever see a spilled crumb on the table or splotch of sauce on her face.

In the training grounds, she's capable enough; although it looks like she's getting the gauge of her current state of weakness more than anything. She runs until she's doubled over, wheezing. She attempts to punch a wooden training dummy right where its jaw may or may not be, only to end up cradling red and split knuckles with an oddly impish little smile. And she attempts to interrupt a companionable game of frisbee by attempting to jump up and pluck the disc out of the air, only to miss it by several inches and collapse into a heap. At least she's laughing about that last bit, if silently, with hands covering her face while her shoulders tremble.

At one point, she is able to get her hands on a map of the region. Being unable to make heads or tails of it, however, she doesn't hesitate to tap the nearest person on the shoulder and try to get their help. This will involve some miming. ]

ᴡᴀɢᴏɴ.

[ Having finally decided to check out the city of Cadens, Kimiko is sandwiched between the far wall of the wagon and a very gregarious young soldier(?). ]

— so that's when I decided I had to leave home. Da didn't take too well to it but Mum, well - 'make your fortune, Squiffy,' she said to me, and I —

[ The moment she leans her head against the interior of the wagon or her eyes seem to glaze over, he notices. ]

— oh, I'm going on again. What did you say your name was?

[ Kimiko blinks and says nothing. ]

Anne? That's a lovely name. So, Anne, I said to Mum, 'Squiffy' - that's me - 'Squiffy will be a name that rises through the ranks of the military!' Seven years later, I'm still in sanitation, but —

[ At some point, she finds herself eyeing the ground moving steadily under the wagon, and wondering if it wouldn't be worth it to hurl herself bodily out the side. ]

ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀʀᴅ.

[ Dealer's choice! ]

1. Arrival

On a scale of the weirdest things to ever happen to him, this is somewhere between electrocuting the school bully with his new powers and being worshiped by tiny fuzzy green aliens. It's disorienting at first and he’s not entirely sure he's not dreaming until he’s kneeling on grass and still trembling. He reaches for his magic and it's not there- not gone but unreachable. That alone causes him to start to panic. It's always there, simmering under the surface, and not being able to access it is like being cut off from air.

He’s trying not to have a panic attack when the old woman approaches him and helps him up. She seems harmless but Billy knows that doesn’t mean anything. She’s talking about gods and then he’s being draped in clothes and a pendant and he’s really hoping he didn’t land himself in another universe that worships him. He would be a terrible disappointment. It’s telling how out of sorts he is that it's only then that he starts to ask the question, ‘Where’s Teddy?’.

Right, so, he’s been kidnapped to another universe by their gods to try and save their world. He would have been happy to help, but really they could have just asked. He would have brought some backup too. He has a feeling asking to go home is out of the question. He’s a little relieved when they all leave him and let him explore on his own.

He wanders through the marketplace, going in and out of shops. The locals approached him to give him food and good and he took them up on it at first but once he realized they weren’t going to stop he started to decline their offers. There was only so much he could eat and carry.

2. The Primary Settlement

He doesn’t really have a craft to hone unless he counts magic but he can’t access his power yet. However, he is an older brother to two rambunctious boys, he knows how to corral kids and keep them entertained. He finds himself taking on the job of storyteller; who knew his own adventures would be so entertaining. He tells them about his gods, Thor and Loki, and superheroes, about the Avengers and his team and his family, his husband, his twin brother, and his mother The Scarlet Witch.

He tries his hand at helping out with farmwork, but Billy wasn’t really built for manual labor. He thought he was in pretty good shape for a mage who also needs to know self-defense, but it doesn’t take long before he’s being shooed off before he collapses, taking a seat against a fence and drinking some much-needed water. This would be much easier if he had his magic.

thorne option a; the dining hall

[ Later, the circumstances of his arrival will remind him faintly of his passage between Basawar and Nayeshi, the pool of water that he would twist his sword into like a keyhole. The Gate. This memory, the feeling of it passes through him like deja vu. He shrugs it off. For two years since finding himself under Alidas' care has his mind been attempting to string together a coherent history out of a life that no longer fits into history.

He barely feels any shock when they tell him he's arrived in another world, shows even less to the man who explains this to him. Why should it shock him at this point? He would laugh, except that he doesn't want to appear mad right off the bat. So he nods, follows instructions. Listens to what questions others are asking before formulating his own. There are only two things that truly disturb him right away. The first is that Alidas might think he's run off after all the kindness the captain has shown him these past two years. The second is that his access to the Gray Space has been cut off.

Deep down, the first thought bothers him more.

His stomach gnaws at itself painfully. The food on display in the dining hall is an extravagant spread even compared to what he's seen in Nayeshi. His gaze fixes on deep red, a bowl of strawberries. He pulls a few into his hand, feeling indulgent but not particularly guilty. He takes small bites, relishing in the burst of flavor on his tongue. He remembers a diner, sitting next to a man (John). He remembers the people at the table teasing him for how slowly he ate, and something in his chest pulls, but then his gaze falls on the nearest stranger. He takes another bite, swallows and nods at the strawberries in their bowl. ]

They taste the same as the ones from Earth. [ He remarks with eyebrows raised in honest faint surprise, offering the information of his origins freely to see how the stranger might respond. ]

thorne option b; the market

[ The next day, having explored all he can in the castle, he can be found walking around town. In Basawar free samples were unheard of, he'd never experienced such a thing until he followed John and his mother into a Costco one day. The memory feels real and unreal. He shakes away the feeling.

A woman hands him some pickled vegetable in wax paper, which he stupidly puts in his mouth right in front of her. He has to turn around quickly to hide when he spits it right back out into the paper as his eyes begin to water and he scans the street quickly for some actual water.

The shopkeeper selling daggers and knives has no free samples, sadly. Kyle balances the blade in his hand, giving the man a dubious look about the price. ]

cadens option a; city streets

[ The city reminds him a bit of Nurjima. He walks with careful grace through the crowds in an attempt to blend in with the locals, mapping the streets as he goes. From across the street he watches as a belligerent man nearly trips on a small child running ahead of his harried looking mother. With his access to the Gray Space returned he uses his talents to steal a few coins while the man is distracted, preparing to step in if the fellow tries anything more than yelling. Thankfully he doesn't, and when Kyle crosses the street he stops to show the boy a sleight of hand trick in front of onlookers, slipping a coin into his small palm with a wink.

The coins buy him a pint of something at a tavern, though he doesn't quite feel like drinking. He nurses the drink at the corner of the bar, his back to a wall and slow to notice the long, superficial cut on his hand from his use of the Gray Space. With an annoyed frown he glances around for a napkin or cloth. ]

Mind if I...? [ he's already reaching toward the edge of the shared space between him and the other person as he asks his question, eyeing the clean cloth. ]

Edited 2022-07-20 19:39 (UTC)

📖 o1. WELCOME TO THE FREE CITIES.

[ This is... a lot to take in. Sure, it isn't Robin's first time waking up in a new place (new to her), but it never gets easier. Like when she was found by Chrom, Frederick and Lissa, the tactician follows after Ambrose, not completely unlike a duckling waddling behind their mother. This is different from the forests of Ylisse—much, much different. Surrounded by stone on all sides, her heart still drumming in her ears after being pulled from the watery void, she only looks up from her sputtering after a blanket is thrown over her shoulders. It's a lot to take in all at once.

[ As they are ushered through the cave toward the Outpost, she feels a bit more grounded to what is going on around her. Even moreso once they make their way into the warehouse, and the fog of panic finally melts away, replaced by an odd sense of nostalgia. It's a bit more permanent than anything she was used to; until just recently, she was living out of camps, temporary headquarters erected as they put out fires in an effort to defend Ylisse and her people.

The details slowly start to solidify, and with each item the tactician finds herself... increasingly concerned? They were spirited away from their home worlds (worlds? wild!) in a seemingly widespread call for aid. That they were somehow important. It feels bit excessive, and that piece in particular makes Robin squirm a little. Yes, she has a record for helping others, but the fact that other worlds that she only just learned today exist required her assistance.

Ah, well... ]

I wonder if they realize that asking us to hold our questions will only raise more questions.

[ Hello new friend walking beside her. The silver haired girl leans in before whispering behind their benefactors' backs. She can't be the only one eager for more information, right? ]

📖 o2. A HOME AWAY FROM HOME.

[ After the brief orientation, Robin is more than happy to be left for a while to collect herself; and, more importantly, explore the grounds. She knows that she has a place in the barracks and roommates to deal with, but those feel like Future Robin things to focus on, and surprisingly she isn't tired enough yet to pack it in. She would much rather hear from the people who were summoned here, they would have the best gauge on what is truly going on at their level. And so, with the intent to uncover as much as she can before she is ushered back to her room, Robin will wander.

Her first stop? The mess hall, because she truly understands the power of food to bring people together. It's the most likely place for people to congregate and chat, and she is getting a little hungry with all of the... well, everything going on. She doesn't hesitate to grab this and that, piling anything that looks interesting on her tray. And yes, that does mean everything, even the weird foods that others seem to be turning their noses up to. Sliding toward one of the tables, she smiles down pleasantly at whoever is sitting there. ]

📖 oX. WILDCARD.

[ Nothing jumping out at you? Have another idea for a prompt! Feel free to PM me here or via Plurk (

impearls)! ]

Edited 2022-07-20 20:02 (UTC)

A. Cadens Desert Outpost 003

A1. Arrival
I'm telling you there's been some sort of mistake! Hey! Are you even listening to me?

[ Considering the unfamiliar mage woman had just left him standing in a barracks room with only a blanket clutched around him, he's pretty sure the answer to that is a resounding 'no'. Which is annoying in itself. He hates being ignored. Especially when it's by a woman. He could have told her that catching his breath wasn't going to ease any of his shock, but some answers might have.

Clothes wouldn't hurt either, for that matter.

Muttering under his breath, he frees one arm from his blanket to rake fingers through his red hair in agitation before turning to survey the rest of the room. And realize he's not the only person in here. Brown eyes narrow slightly as he turns to face the other occupant. ]

Let me guess. You're either as confused as I am, or standing here to spout more about how honored you are and don't ask any more questions. But at least you have clothes on. Please tell me there's more in here somewhere?

A2. Around the Outpost
[ Sylvain's not one to sit still for long, not when everything and everyone around him is an unknown. But at least having a little time to freshen up and find actual clothes have done wonders for his mood, despite his complaints towards the mage earlier. Not that he could be considered 'happy' by any stretch of the imagination, but he seems to be making the best of it and to anyone who doesn't know him well, he seems to be taking this abrupt relocation in stride, cheerful smile and flirtatious demeanor out in full force.

He can be found poking around the barracks, seeing who else is here and who else he might pester for information on this place. He lingers in the mess hall after offering a few invitations to nearby ladies to see if they'd like to get a bite to eat or a cup of tea with him - although those he approaches seems to be more a habit than anything and he'll not turn away anyone who looks intriguing to approach for a bit of conversation and companionship.

And while he can be seen lurking around the edges of the training grounds, he doesn't make any effort on his own to join in practice or sparring there, his attention far more intently locked on those making use of the weapons. While his posture might be casual and relaxed, his searching gaze is intent and focused, although he's quick to disguise that, should he catch anyone watching him too closely, offering up an easy grin and a laugh to hopefully dismiss himself from notice. ]

That looks exhausting, don't you think?

B. Cadens

[ After learning there's a large city not far from the barracks, Sylvain is quick to set out to explore it. The barracks are.... decent enough, he guesses. Rugged and spartan, for sure - not that he's unused to that, of late. But there's not much to do there and he'd prefer to have a broader group of people to elicit information from. So, arriving in the city, he can be found for the first several hours exploring various streets and shops, even though he doesn't have any of the local currency to spend yet. The weather here is much dryer and hotter than he's comfortable with, but as he's currently lacking his armor, at least the clothes he'd been given upon his arrival are decently suited to the climate.

Should he find anyone willing to spot him a drink or a meal, he might make himself comfortable in one of the taverns or bars, listening in on conversations or just soaking in the atmosphere of these places. Getting a feel for the city itself and those who inhabit it. He's long since learned you can discover a lot about a place and it's people in spots like this.

He's surprisingly fairly subdued early on, although after a few hours he starts to loosen up - and liven up, approaching strangers with a wide smile, a flirtatious wink and, in some cases, an outrageous pickup line. ]

Well hello there. I do believe I'm very lost.

C. Wildcard

(( Leave me a prompt of your own! I'm open to anything where Sylvain might encounter your character. I'm also more than happy to match brackets or prose. ))

i. arrival/barracks

[She does not lift her hand from where it remains poised over the handle of the hunting knife at her belt— or where it's uspposed to be— for the better part of the 'explanation' that is offered her. Only once she is assured that they are honored to have her here and is certain that these hosts show no sign of hostility does she relax, though she frowns as she finds herself ushered through the first steps of becoming acquainted with this place. Nothing here feels right.]

You are prepared to be welcoming people from afar— this is not unusual?

[Her arrival, it would appear, is hardly an isolated incident. The shock is slow to wear off, even as she is lead to the barracks, the sight of which is familiar enough to help her feel a bit more at ease, carefully holding onto the blanket draped around her. Some things are universal, regardless of where you are.]

... thank you. I will take some time to become settled, then become familiar with the outpost. You have been most helpful. Are there others who are newly arrived?

[If you happen to be in the same boat, feel free to cut in and answer that for her!]

ii. training grounds

[The outpost has many facilities that are worth investigating, but after a self-given tour, Petra finds herself drawn to the training grounds. While the weapons provided are non-lethal and the training swords offered are not quite like the blades she's used to, they'll certainly get the job done— though it's only once she's hefted one to test the weight that she's reminded of how drained she'd been feeling after being pulled out of the water. She's certainly not at full strength.]

I did not expect this to feel so heavy!

[Her remark carries both surprise and disapproval, and she gives the sword an experimental swing. It's certainly not bad, but a blade should feel like an extension of oneself. That is something she's used to feeling regardless of what weapon she chooses, and so she is willing to admit that the problem is not the sword, but her.]

My strength is lacking... this is not making any sense.

[She will look towards whoever happens to be closest, pointing at them with the training sword.]

You! I would like to test myself.

iii. mess hall

[Training has helped her to work up quite an appetite, and eventually, she finds her way to the mess hall. She takes what's provided without complaint, though she is certainly curious as she sits herself down with her meal and studies it more closely.]

This is... not boar, I do not think, but something similar. I do not recognize it, but it is smelling very delicious! These vegetables are also not quite like those I have seen before, but seem to have been expertly prepared.

[Sampling new dishes had been one of the things she'd liked best about her years living in Fodlan, and seems as though it may be a highlight here, as well.]

Edited 2022-07-20 20:39 (UTC)

❖ Free Cities - Cadens Desert Outpost 003, Arrival/Barracks

[ Claire Novak is, as a general rule, someone who likes to kick up a fight and ask questions later. Well, that's not entirely fair. But she's high on grief on adrenaline when she sprints towards the closing portal to escape back home, feeling like someone cleaved her in two and carved out everything she allowed herself so foolishly to feel for another person yet again. Perhaps it comes as little surprise, then, that when she is pulled from the pool of water, her flight or fight instinct kicks hard towards fight. There's an undignified scuffle by the side of that pool, one she's fated to lose, all her strength bled out of her.

As a result, when she is led out of the cavern and into harsh daylight, clothed with long damp hair drying fast in the desert heat, it's flanked by two of the soldiers, each holding one of her arms in firm grasps. It must look ridiculous - Claire is a short, lean thing, and between her heavily bruised and scraped face and the way her ribs are clearly tender coupled with the typical arrival fatigue, she looks like she would keel over at a stiff breeze. Yet still, her blue eyes are those of someone debating poor life choices, like she would take a swing at the entire world if someone let her, like the fight has left her by a long shot, lips curled into a sneer when she's told about the 'honor' of her forced presence in this world - but while she still looks about three seconds from kneeing someone's groin, she visibly thinks better of it, raising her hands in a placating gesture when she's let go. As much as her first instinct is to fight her way to answers, it's clear that she's in no condition to even make the attempt. Peace, then. For now at least. Although she flips the guards off the moment they turn their back and mutters and emphatic: ]

Bite me, Sir Vigilancealot.

[ Okay, her insults might need a little work right now - so sue her. ]

❖ Free Cities - Cadens Desert Outpost 003, Around the Outpost & Wagon to Cadens

[ Claire spends some time around the outpost, familiarizing herself with the layout. She moves through the structure like someone assessing hostile territory, wary of the soldiers, wary of all strangers. For as drained as she looks, this is a young woman in survival mode, frustration only mounting when the realization begins to sink in that not only is there no way out for her here - it's the desert in one direction, and hours towards a city in the other - but in her current state, she is quite dependent on local hospitality. This, of course, does nothing to quell her foul mood.

Still, she makes what she can of the chance to roam around unhindered. Tests the weight and heft of a few weapons at the training ground - the way she hefts a wooden sword suggests some basic familiarity with bladed weapons, even if she winces against the tenderness of her ribs. Claire doesn't actually intend to use the training weapons on anything except the dummies - but if anyone wants to take her demeanor as invitation to spar, she doesn't look prone to holding back - despite her condition.

Additionally, she's going to try to catch a ride on the wagon to Cadens at some point. And while she refuses the hand offered to her by one of the nearby guards to get on the wagon, opting to pull herself up, she almost immediately pales and has to drop back down before pulling herself up, reaching up a hand towards her ribcage. She's not too seriously hurt - but judging by the bruising on her face and the scrapes on her hands, she looks like she's had a run in with something nasty or other. Embarrassment immediately turns into stubborn, angry overcompensation, though, and she tries to pull herself up onto the wagon a second time. She might be more inclined to accept a helping hand if one is offered, though. If none is offered, she soldiers through the moment of pain to heft herself up and take a seat, jaw clenched and unwilling to seem weak. ]

❖ Free Cities - Cadens, Marketplace, Daytime

[ Having taken the first chance she got to leave the Outpost, Claire moves through the city as if she's never been anywhere else, as if she knows every nook and cranny, but casual air is an affectation to the practiced eye. She's pulled her hair from her face, hard blue eyes tracking movements around her and the curve of streets with the air of someone always looking for a way out, always expecting the other shoe to drop. Her heart is heavy, but she keeps pushing it down, keeps tucking something lost and vulernable and broken underneath a veneer of confidence and rage at the world at large. Volatile emotions have not always come more easily to her than anything gentle, but then, the growing up has shaped her harshly.

Old habits, it turns out, die hard. Claire is moving through the crowd of a marketplace, and perhaps it catches the eye of someone who knows what it is to be lost and overwhelmed. The way she glances, sly, at her surroundings. The way her hand seems to barely even move, yet absolutely darts out, grabs an apple from the display of a vendor - that's practiced ease, that's an old habit. She's good at it, too, for anyone able to make an assessment like that. Five paces later, and she's dodging out of the crowd, to the shade of a corner of the marketplace. Leans with her back against the wall and bites into the apple, unconcerned, the quick theft unnoticed. Her eyes still track over the crowd as Claire debates whether she wants to heed the warning to return to the Outpost for her own safety, or cleave her own path, unprotected, by vanishing into the city and beyond.

She turns her head when she notices being watched, and makes eye contact, one eyebrow cocked, as if daring the other person to comment - on the apple, on her bruises, on anything really. ]

What?

❖ Free Cities - Cadens Desert Outpost 003, Barracks, Night

[ Claire moves like someone used to slinking through the shadows and doging notice, weaving in and out of places whether she's meant to be there or not. But for all that years of running away from group homes, of becoming a pickpocket and menace to society, of learning how to infiltrate and take out monster nests have shaped her survival tactics, that by no means makes her impossible to notice or observe when she leaves her bed in the middle of the night, and slips not just from the room, but sneaks out of the barracks entirely.

It might not be entirely necessary to be so secretive - but if someone where to either follow her, or notice her outside, the reason for her slipping through the darkness like she's trying to disappear into the shadows might become obvious. Avoiding the soldiers and trying to avoid anyone else as well, Claire ends up in an isolated corner where she slumps to the ground.

Her hands are trembling badly as she clenches and unclenches them, eyes squeezed shut shut as her breathing turns ragged. Her shoulders slump, and she pulls her knees to her chest, wraps her arms around them and buries her head. Her shoulders are tense from trying not to shake under the weight of emotions slowly crushing her - from trying not to cry.

She thought she was used to being stranded and lost, thought she was used to loved ones dying, and yet life seems to have found a new way to screw her over and make her bleed from wounds as deep as trenches on her heart. What a damn novelty. What a damn tragedy.

And for once, her guard is down, and she gives no indication of being aware of company, should any be close by. ]

❖ Wildcard

[ OOC: For anything else not here, feel free to hit me up via PM or on inkcharm, I'm easy!

If you prefer prose over brackets, feel free to tag in with prose. I'll match preferred format happily <3 ]

i. Welcome
Quintet honestly isn't sure what they expected.

But whatever it was, a dripping wet cat, half-drowned, disoriented, complaining at first vaguely and then at increasing volume had clearly not been it. But she was a person, after all, and though her liscense was still provisional, a member of the Rationale. So she'd done what civilized people do, in situations like these: talked it through. It wasn't as if they were deaf, after all, just... weird. The whole place was weird, with a strangely artificial, almost manicured look to it, nothing like home.

What's more annoying is the way people keep staring at her, and cooing, like she's some kind of kitten, not yet out of her milkteeth. It's not as if it's the only time a cat's worn a mantle, after all, even if this one is pretty elaborate, with the embroidery and all.

Anyone watching will see just that: a housecat tagging along with the most recent group of newcomers, inexplicably dressed as one of them complete with the arcana stitched into her tunic. She rides along to the village, and wanders around, and if you draw close enough, she might even speak to you.

"Hey! Hey you," It's a sharp, almost nasal voice, of someone used to speaking to people both larger, and stupider, than she is— and she doesn't expect any better from you, "Listen, I need some help. Because either I'm losing my mind, or I'm going to have to come to terms with eating people, and I don't know which is worse."

ii. Educational Materials
And, if you aren't called out directly, then perhaps you just happen to notice the cat in the tunic sitting on a flat rock, convenient for sitting on, with both forepaws braced on a battered and somewhat soiled scrap of paper. She looks for all the world as if she were actually reading it, and if the lashing tail is any judge, not enjoying the read.

"...Weird deer?" She mutters, low but audible, "The dead rose up? Oh, you stupid cat, what did you get yourself into this time?"

iii. Monster Mash
"EE-mach!" The... thing, whatever it was, hit the side of the road, and bounced. Quintet's strike had carried tremendous force, enough to rebound her, and her own landing was more controlled, "Go on, had enough?"

People were resolute. They could think, plan, and fight back intelligently, with strategy. But would these creatures do the same? The monster cowers back from her, and Quintet readies her response again; it's got to be an odd sight from the outside, a thing like that cowering away from a little cat. The cat herself is pretty odd too, the way she's hunched over, front weight on the wrists and rump in the air.

She hisses, at the thing and for all its claws and teeth and too many limbs, it seems quite inclined to bolt.

iv. Horizon
To most, Quintet's corner of the Horizon will seem quite barren. There's little here but a patch of very smooth ground, packed hard, consisting of mixed soil and sand, an a bordering patch of grass that has been left to grow wild, easily tall enough to hide in, should one crouch down to do so. A wide-ish hole is the least natural thing there, but even this is just more soil, though the keen-eyes natural observer will wonder if an animal would really make an open so regularly arched, a floor so completely flat, or an entryway so open and visibly airy. Like a little house, rather than a bolt-hole or the entrance to a warren.

Oh, and there's also the cat, preoccupied with scratching in the dirt with one paw: drawing diagrams and writing notes in the dust.

v. Wildcard
Feel free to message me, or throw any scenario or ideas at me that you please

I. around the barracks

Despite all the wrong turns his life has taken in the past handful of months, Nikolai has to admit that being fished from a pool to find himself in an entirely different world was not a turn he anticipated. And he had a whole mental list prepared of all the ways things could go (further) to hell...

However, Nikolai is nothing if not quick to adapt, the too-clever fox that always finds a way to survive another day. He listens to the welcoming spiel and asks questions until the robed mage gently suggests that he get acquainted with his new lodgings and comrades. So off he goes, exploring every corner of the compound and easily approaching whomever he crosses paths with.

At the training grounds, Nikolai watches another Summoned practice from a few yards away, noting the form and technique, before walking over with a disarming grin.

"In need of a sparring partner? I promise that I'm a step up from the practice dummies," he jokes. Tall and trim, his physique lends some credibility to this claim. And with his shirt sleeves rolled up — he prefers to cover up, but the desert heat has forced his hand — the scars fracturing his hands are visible. They're curious things, black tendrils climbing up his forearms. From a distance, one might think he'd dipped his fingers in ink and made a mess of himself, but up close the tilled-up texture of his skin is unmistakable.

Eventually, he finds his way back to that storage room he'd been led through after his drowned rat episode. His curiosity leads him to the bits of machinery seemingly gathering dust on the shelves, and his sharp eyes to a small tool box tucked among the wooden crates.

Long story short, should you enter the storage room for whatever reason, you'll find this man kneeling on the floor, methodically taking apart a who-knows-what with an expression that wavers between intense focus and manic glee — and if you're especially lucky, you might even enter at the exact moment that a small screw or spring or what-have-you pops into the air and pelts your way. Nikolai looks up, reminiscent of a(n incredibly handsome) rodent suddenly emerging from its hole.

"Did you see where that went?" A frown and a thoughtful hum. "I imagine I'll need it to put this thing back together..."

II. around the city

Of course Nikolai jumps at the opportunity to explore the nearby city, uncomfortable wagon-ride be damned. There, he sponges up news, gossip, and political discourse from cafes and taverns. He peruses the history museum, uncovering the conflicts and triumphs that have made this nation. He finds his way to a particular corner of the city where several of its academies cluster together.

On a whim, he walks up alongside a student on their way to class — or who he thinks could be a student, but maybe it's another Summoned?

"Say, are you a student here?" he asks, all measured charm. "You wouldn't happen to have a bring-a-stranger-to-class day coming up soon, would you?"

North Wing; Rooms

[ Cal kept his attention divided between this little orientation and his surroundings, mostly watching other people in the hopes of seeing a familiar face or two. As the minutes went by, it began to look as if Cal alone was thrust into this strange place and his friends were still back on the Mantis. He wondered how long before they noticed he wasn't there. Likely a while. Cere insisted he rest in the back, that he needed to take advantage of the reprieve they were finally granted after what felt like decades of racing around the galaxy desperately trying to stay one step ahead of the Empire. BD-1 will probably notice he's gone first, and with any luck he'll tell the others.

But would that actually help? It's not as if he fell into a cave and got stuck, or got lost in a seemingly endless tomb. He woke up in a fountain stripped of all his belongings...his lightsaber. Something tells him he won't be so easily found.

First thing's first, he scopes out where he's meant to stay. He's desperately manifesting the belief that he won't be here long enough to need it, but he should check it out regardless.

The thought of sharing a room was new and, probably silly in light of everything he's been through, a bit nerve wracking. He's stopped in front of the door, contemplating if he should...just go in, or announce his presence and then go in, or announce his presence and wait, or—

—maybe someone should tell him to stop blocking the doorway. ]

Dungeon

[ There's no way Cal can ignore the stone steps descending deeper into the castle. He's not sure if he's allowed, but that hasn't stopped him in the past, so why start worrying about such things now?

Doesn't seem like much going on here, but you'll catch Cal walking through the dungeon and looking into the empty cells with curiosity, sometimes reaching out to touch the bars expectantly, as if waiting for something to happen. ]

...Nothing.

Library

[ What better way to find out more about a place than scouring its library? Aside from listening to force echoes, of course. But his connection with the Force feels weak right now, and apparently it's only temporary, however that's supposed to work. Until then, though, he can be found wandering about the grand library, opening books to read a little before he closes it and puts it back, repeating the process.

He sighs after a while as he sets a book back in place. ]

Don't even know where I should start.

[ Boy does he miss BD-1. He would have found so many useful things by now. ]

Wildcard

[ Feel free to make up anything, I'm super open and love unexpected wildcard things 👀 Also, as a note, I defaulted to brackets, but I am absolutely fine with prose. Just hit me with whatever you find most comfortable! ]

arrival/barracks/training ground;

[In one moment, he is in Masyaf with the Apple, clutching fire that doesn't burn, holding power he will not wield. And then all he knows is that he is somewhere else — wet, nude, greeted by strangers.

It would be no surprise to his brothers that Altaïr lashes out in this moment, certain that this is another phantom of the apple, an illusion sent by Al Mualim from beyond his pyre. It's very much a surprise to himself when he doesn't attempt to fight his way out and does, indeed, calm down.

(What else can he do? This is either more convincing than any illusion his mentor was able to cast while he lived, or it is real. And an Assassin by observing, learning, gathering information, always.)

In the period of time that follows, Altaïr is somewhat mollified when he's able to find clothing with a hood, which remains up at nearly all times. It makes him feel better to partially conceal his face, even if he can't truly blend with the people. For the most part, he keeps to himself in the barracks, though he will answer if spoken to. In the dining hall, he enjoys his food, surprised and pleased that cuisine of the Levant is available, and visibly confused by some of the other, more 'modern' options.

The training hall is more to his style, where he vents his frustration with weapons that may not be meant to kill, but if they could do so in anyone's hands, they would in his. Clearly, he is a fighter of no little skill. The obstacle course is also a favored location as he pushes himself farther, faster, making almost no sound as he goes.]

out & about/Cadens City;

[As always, he takes to the rooftops as best he can, certain that the best way to learn the lay of the land is from above. For the most part, he's able to escape detection, but that is largely because most people do not often look up — anyone who does so may spot a figure traversing what is not often a pedestrian space. And of course, eventually he has to come down, which may or may not be in a place of solitude.

Reconaissance achieved, he ventures into the region of the city that may hold a forge, a sheaf of papers depicting a hand-drawn mechanism under his arm. If asked what he is looking for, he will simply reply "a blacksmith, one of skill and discretion."]

wild card;

[TOSS ME ANYTHING I WILL MEET YOU WHERE IT LANDS. Apologies that Altaïr is not Mr. Social with his starters but if you care to tag this nerd I promise not to make actual interaction like prying teeth.]

((OOC: I'm happy playing in both brackets and prose!!))

1. ARRIVAL-- newbie apartments

The last thing Jack remembered was the shrill whistle of a military charge headed straight for his sleigh. The roaring wind and the hissing of fire lingered on the edge of his senses. And then there was nothing but the free floating feeling of falling through miles and miles of open sky. However, Jack did not come crashing down in an old cemetery surrounded by his ruined plans. He opened his eye sockets underwater and before he had the chance to question what had happened, he was gently tugged upright and given quite a welcome.

Human beings! All around him were humans and while they were all looking at him with varying degrees of awe, none of them had run screaming. Jack couldn't decide if he liked that or not. He felt...terrible. He felt weak, weaker than he had when he'd spent several nights awake unfolding the algebra of Christmas with only wine to keep him going.

After everything is said and done, the tall skeleton stands at the window of his apartment looking down on the foot traffic below. It is clear his quarters belong to a newcomer so should anyone come knocking, he will be there to answer.

2. ADVENTURES IN BABYSITTING--around town

The sound of wailing children can be herd emanating from a building down the lane. What at first may seem like an attack by some terrible undead creature on a household full of orphans plays out. Jack stands at the doorway with his arms pinned to his sides and his head dipped in shame. The woman in the doorway barring the way between Jack and a herd of unhappy children shakes a finger at him and shouts.

"You're supposed to be a chosen one and this is how you behave!"

"I'm so, so sorry, ma'am. But that is how I remember Cinderella ending! I thought they would like it, honest I did."

"You won't be telling any more stories on my watch." The woman picks up a toddler who is red in the face and scrubbing at her eyes with her tiny fists. "Go!"

Jack heaves a sigh and nods before turning with his metaphorical tail tucked between his legs. It wasn't his fault that kids these days couldn't handle the original Brothers Grimm fairytales! They were the only fairytales he knew! With a hand rubbing one shoulder, Jack skulked away from the scene, thoroughly embarrassed.

Nobody saw that, right?

3. SCARECROW--farmland

What better place for a man who prides himself on being terrifying than out in a field where his only job was to frighten crows? This is what the people of the settlement eventually came to agree on. Jack couldn't tell stories to children without making them cry, couldn't emborder robes without making grisly scenes of people being beheaded, and could hardly be counted on to carry heavy loads. He was only bones after all.

Yes, a scarecrow was the perfect job for him.

Jack sat perched atop a wooden frame that stood tall over a sprawling field of vegetables of all kinds. He looked the part of the scarecrow as well, having been gifted with a broad hat to keep the sun out of his eyes. He barely looked alive at all save for when his fidgety nature prompted him to turn and wave at those passing by on the roads or to fling his arms up and spook circling birds.

"Boo!" he would shout at them. "Go away!"

1) SOLVUNN ARRIVAL

[“I detect no ill will from the gods, it seems we've been blessed with success."]

Wha—?!

[“Any gift the gods give us is one we will happily take. I'm certain you have many questions, and they will all be answered in time. For now, rest and know you will be taken care of.”]

Eh? G-Gift?!

[There's an offering of clothes and a retinue of placid-faced mages, a gentle breeze, and a postcard-worthy tribute to Stonehenge curling around the clearing. It's serenity defined, something to daydream about when pining for the mystic. Fukawa would happily concoct such a scene herself, though she probably wouldn't be getting dragged naked from a pond.

A kindly hand reaches out to her.]

Don't touch me! [Fukawa snaps away, rolling and curling and hissing, doing her best to maintain modesty while threatening to bite a finger.] What is this, s-some kind of freaky cult orgy? Are you looking for a virgin sacrifice? I b-bet you are, sicko! You t-took one look at me and said that hideous girl has to be a v-virgin, didn't you?

["Ah, no, I think you're misunderstanding—"]

You can't fool me! If it's not a sacrifice, then it's some kind of creepy sex magic! Isn't it?! [The mages are uncomfortable. Fukawa cuddles her knees close and throws an accusatory finger at them.] Well know this! You can d-do what you want with my body, but you'll n-never break my spirit!

[There is a weary sigh. "Ma'am, can you please just put some clothes on?"

Sometime later, Fukawa finds herself neither killed nor ravished (and somehow put out about both) left to explore in town on her own. She was tempted to sulk in the free lodgings they gave to her, spooked by the medieval trappings outside, but she's loathe to stay in this hellhole for another minute. Whether it's a dream, a simulation, or a complete freak Narnian circumstance, it doesn't matter. She needs to find the way out.

First, she's been disarmed. The taser and scissors are as AWOL as her clothes, and so she slinks amid the shops, scowling over any displays of tools or blades. There might be a pair of shears or two, but they're rather large, and she has no clue what would be a good substitute for her usual blades. No way to ask either, outside the obvious. That's not happening until she knows what she's dealing with.

When she hears about the farms she also agrees to work, though she immediately disappears into whatever passes for a tool shed. She's dead set on finding a weapon, legally or not.]

2) STORYTIME

[Once Fukawa realizes that cash is king and her feeble body is unfit for any decent pre-industrial labor, she's left to grasp at straws. Oh, sure, anyone would think that the SHSL Literary Prodigy, wunderkind behind over eighty best-selling novels, would leap at the chance to play storyteller. Sounds perfect, doesn't it?]

Th-the wind blew...c-c-cold over the m-mountain...

[If it were in writing, maybe.

Fukawa shivers, glancing up at the cow-eyed passel of tykes she's been abandoned with. They're all waiting on her. Sweat beads at her brow. Her eyes skate over the pages and her heart thuds harder. The prose is simple but her tongue is tied. It's this fucking stutter. It's bad enough on a regular day, but add the pressure of performing? Public humiliation?

Figures that someone whose only gift is words still has to mangle them once they're off the page.

She sees a stranger passing by and hunches up tighter, voice dimming. Don't cry. Don't cry, you useless sack of trash.]

...b-bringing the f-f-first taste of winter to th-the v-v-village.

[A tow-headed boy raises his hand. "Miss? Can you go faster please?"

She shrivels further and feels a tear break loose. What a bunch of ungrateful brats.]

3) FREE CITIES - BARRACKS

[Being cast out into an alternate reality and landing in the middle of Jock Central is proof that this is actually hell. Fukawa has no patience for meatheads. Military, gym, sports, nature-lovers. All of them, revolting. She despises their can-do candour, their easy affability, their repetitive, incessant exercising and all the greasy sweat. And people tell her she smells. Ha! Have they ever been to a locker room?

She slithers through the hall with a non-stop grumble, the words muted but the bile inescapable. There was no refuge here. She was surrounded. There wasn't one single upside to...

She slows.

Backtracks to that slight crack in the door.

Is that a public bath?

A man breaches the water, droplets cascading down a fine-chiseled back, the shoulder blades winging wide as he scoops his wet hair out of their face. The lights make a gleaming pillar of his body, a glistening Adonis captured in the nude.

Fukawa, whose pallor leans more corpse than fair, goes tomato red in two seconds flat.

She'll just, um. Linger here a second. Don't mind her.]

((NOTE: if you're canon familiar and want the ~~better?~~ other half, let me know in the subject/a DM/Whatever! Happy to do a wildcard or spring her into a thread at the right moment))

( SHADOWBRINGERS + ENDWALKER SPOILERS BELOW )

north wing / communal bathing.

( Urianger has been here before.

Not literally, of course — this place isn't like any he's yet had the pleasure of visiting — but to receive a summons across time and space end up in a wholly unfamiliar realm? Yes, he knows this all too well. The most disconcerting difference is the fact that it seems in no way related to the struggle between Astral and Umbral, or between Dark and Light, but rather he's been dragged away from Bestways Burrow to aid in ...

Well. Something altogether different.

Ambrose could have been more helpful in his explanation, truth be told, however it's enough for Urianger that the world is allegedly in great peril. Whether the Ascians have a hand in this star's troubles remain to be seen — thus far it's hard to say for certain — which is why Urianger has resolved to spend what free time he has gathering as much information as he can about the place. Tonight, however, he's doing something far braver than information reconnaissance: he's left the study hall in favour of investigating the communal bathing hall.

That he's chosen a late hour to do so is hardly coincidental. Urianger may have moved on from the shyness of childhood but he's holding on to a little hesitance all the same, and while he aches for a good, long soak, the uncomfortable prospect of being percieved has put him off up until now.

Put aside thy foolishness, he mentally chides himself, armed as he is with a towel, a book, and a thick slab of archon loaf inexplicably provided by the groaning dining-hall table. Thy ablutions take precedence, and t'would be remiss of thee to overlook an opportunity to learn more of the inner workings of this castle.

Which is what he tells himself as he picks his way over to a secluded pool, before quickly shucking his robes and sinking into the water until he's submerged up to his shoulders. The slice of archon loaf? Sits folornly on the other side of the pool, surrounded by the haphazard scattering of the personal effects he so hastily abandoned.

... Somebody help him, before he trashes his brain trying to figure out how to retrieve it without breaking the surface of the water. )

the dragon's keep.

( It only takes a day or so of acclimatisation for Urianger to venture beyond the walls of Castle Thorne. Urianger is a scholar at heart — level-headed, curious, and always eager to learn what he can when faced with a conundrum, and when he'd heard tell there was an impressive bookshop to be found just north of the castle? He'd had to make the trip there himself, after securing himself some floor-skimming robes suited to the look of a scholar. The design is simple — high-collared, black, with a little gold detailing around the cinched waist, and sleeves voluminous enough to suggest him an academic well worth his salt.

... Alright, so the sleeves had been a moment of pure fancy that he may eventually come to regret, but for the time being he's quite enjoying the change from his usual garb.

It's an overcast afternoon, and he's more than happy to take shelter from any impending rain with a thorough investigation of The Dragon's Keep. If there are books to be found, Urianger is sure show up there eventually, and he has opted to begin his exploration of Thorne with a systematic review of works pertaining to its history. Researcher that he is, he's a firm believer in the power of the literature review, however the titles scrawled across the pile of books at his feet suggest a somewhat ... esoteric approach to research.

It's a mess is what it is — instead of focused research it seems to be more of a "grab a little of everything and see what sticks" methodology, but if asked he'd surely insist that there's some kind of reason behind it all. At present his nose is half buried in a tome detailing the history of Thorne's rulers, and he has the look of a man who, if disturbed, would be in for the shock of his life.

Who could resist? )

the winking cauldron.

( Perhaps unsurprisingly, Urianger's research settles upon his sign.

Death, or so he's been told by the residents of the castle, and while those he's asked have been eager to explain positive traits associated with such a sign? Urianger fancies himself well versed enough in the arts of the astrologian to know that there's more to any kind of arcana than that. Disconcerting as it is to think of such things without his planisphere, and while his connection to the stars feels so terribly weak, he is determined to press on in the name of his research.

Once he knows the truth of it — knows whether it's helping or hindering his manipulation of celestial aether — perhaps he can refocus his efforts into finding a way out of this place. Or, in the event of a worst case scenario, a way to save this place as he did with his dear friends back on the First.

... He's getting ahead of himself again, isn't he. One step at a time.

He turns the page of the book he'd procured named simply The Arcana as he sips at a steaming cup of tea, a sleek curve of black and gold against the otherwise cosy decor. Urianger is appreciative of any establishment that can offer him an endless supply of tea and fragrant treats while he studies, and he foresees the Winking Cauldron becoming something of a regular haunt for him. It does, however, seem to be an exceptionally popular spot today, and so if the only free seat happens to be at his table?

Looks like it might be time to distrupt that research! )

ooc.

( Or hit me up with something else! Feel free to DM this journal / hit me up on Plurk @ scry if you'd like to hash something else out, and please let me know if you'd like me to avoid spoilers at any time! )

{Some who wander ARE lost

OTA

Waking up in unfamiliar places is not Melanie's idea of a good time, so she's not in the best mood once she's left with no real answers, a vague idea of what the hell is going on, and to her own devices.

She's from England. Castles are not new to her as a concept, though, she can't say she's ever stayed in one. Been in them, sure. Tons of potential for hauntings in a castle after all, but this is different than having a guide take you round to the public rooms allowed for viewing in the touristy parts or sneaking round on her own after hours.

So honestly, at this point, she's just wandering. She'll check out all sorts of things in her digging around, so find her anywhere from the library to the dining hall, or simply lost in a hallway she could have sworn was meant to go back to her quarters, but clearly did not.

{omg they were roommates

OTA

"Oh, great. It's just like uni," she groans as she notes the four beds in the room, noting that she's living with three absolute strangers for the foreseeable future.

She is prone to poking around in the rooms just as much as she was anywhere else in the castle. Is it your stuff she's prodding at? Feel free to tell her off about it.

I. SOLVUNN (likely will be starting location)

[ klaus hargreeves opens his eyes, fully expecting to be a dead man.

he’d even argue it would be a fair assumption, given the fading memory he’s left with, given the chaos of another end of the world, drifting piece by piece into an endless vortex. it makes sense why he spends most of the duration of his initial arrival profoundly believing this to be the void. albeit a very interesting one. some particular afterlife of someone with a particularly overactive imagination, and there are just so many things that klaus doesn't understand, and hey look at that, people were even talking. maybe that's what happens when all you have is the afterlife?

he had nodded and played along, entirely content and only slightly growing more and more worried about his family, about reggie’a betrayal, about all of it, as it slowly builds and builds in the rising anxiety bubbling up in his chest.

but just the same, with that funny way of believing things will either work out or they won’t, klaus had navigated outside into the very quaint looking settlement.

he stands there, carving a long, lithe figure in the middle of the road and looking at the goats, head tipped to one side as he watches the world around him. it’s like a — commune. it even reminds him a little of the one he’d inadvertently started in texas. if you add gods and magic to the mix which, if he was honest, he’d probably seen weirder, this is what you got.

he tips his head, patience finally reaching some form of an end, the guilt and rising anticipation finally cresting it’s peak, as he turns to the first person he sees walking by. ]

Hi, sorry, excuse me — [ his voice is soft spoken, near sing-song in inflection. there’s a small wave around them, in some vague direction of the road or the trees or the — everything. ] — have you seen a girl around here? Rides around on a little bike, has the air of immortal contempt on her face? Kind of judgy?

[ of all the ways to describe the purported image of god — or a god? she said she was god — this is how klaus hargreeves chooses to do so. with a flourish of his hand and a small smile. ]

II. FREE CITIES (tdm)

[ klaus had once said, sitting at a dinner table as waves lapped at the shore behind him, as he stared at the face of a mother he never knew, that peace is overrated.

wondering around this fantastical place, with an easy sort of swagger that no amounts of dimension hopping or dying could seem to keep down, klaus concludes that he still agrees with that sentiment.

he wonders through a city he’s never seen, and really only becomes half-way convinced that this was real several hours in — in as much as it wasn’t the void, that god on a bicycle wasn’t going to chastise him with a dainty little fingerwag of judgement — convinced enough to stop by a place called mag’s inn. convinced enough to have a drink. watch the patrons of this fine establishment.

he sighs, and when the first buzz of the drink hits — low-key and simply pleasant, some habitual dulling of nerves (and another reminder that this wasn't entirely the void; what with no buzz in the thereafter) — he says outloud, to no one in particular, or maybe just someone within earshot. ] Well, this is certainly a change of scenery from before.

[ doomsday did skew perspective, and he tries to focus less on the fact that — for all intents and purposes — he was very much stuck, and very much without a way out. he kept thinking little five would come strolling in through the front doors, looking as crooked as the old man he really was. no such luck. ]

III. THORNE (tdm)

[ while this place was so vastly different from the halls of hotel oblivion, or the umbrella-turned-sparrow academy, or — really — anywhere else klaus had been, it held a particular air to it that reminded him a little too much of dear old dad. dear old dad who didn’t care, who betrayed him and killed him over and over (and klaus had let him, had fed right into that stupid little hope and —)

maybe it was the way that head mage carried himself. maybe it was the way the halls of this place were far too large to keep anyone from feeling impossibly small, impossibly out of their depths.

whatever it may be, klaus wanders through, with clothes emblazoned with the sign of fool. he’ll drop onto what is allegedly his bed. sit up when someone who looks to be his new roommate walks on in. he’ll even offer a friendly wave.

he’ll wander into the library some time too, walking through the tall shelves and humming some shapeless melody. he’ll pull some tomes out, before near carelessly tossing them onto a nearby desk. if he hears someone shuffling by, any footsteps, he’ll say, voice soft more by nature than by virtue of being in a library at all — ] You think there’s ghosts here? It feels like a place like this would be really haunted. [ but the odd thing is he hasn’t felt it, not even a little, since getting here. funny that. ]

(( ooc; or wildcard it! open to any interactions in any locations as i try to figure out where he’d fit in best! i’m leaning heavily towards solvunn, but would love a chance to have him run into more people! ))

SOLVUNN.
Choking, Chrissy is dragged from the water with a terrified scream, struggling away from whoever it is that has pulled her from the water, before they can even begin to attempt to wrap something around her. She’s panicking, gasping for breath as she stares at them, stares everywhere. Looking all around, wildly.

But there’s nothing there. No horrifying figure. No clock. No horrible images. Just men and women in simple clothes that look like they’re out of some kind of fantasy movie or something. Or D&D, maybe, she thinks, thinking of Eddie.

Something warm is wrapped around her, and she curls into it, shivering. She watches the man in the ornate robes, the one with the book, with wide eyes. She doesn’t know what’s going on. She doesn’t know where she is, except that it’s definitely not Hawkins. (Maybe that’s a good thing.) He says that he detects no ill will of the gods, that they seem to have been blessed with success. Success for what?

Are they talking about her?

The old woman helps her up and Chrissy lets her, in shock. She doesn’t know if she believes her. She doesn’t think she can be a gift from any gods, even ones she’s never heard before. She doesn’t even know if this is real. Maybe it’s just another hallucination. At least it’s better that what she’s been seeing. She’s given clothes, and a pendent of a creature with long horns and large wings that she doesn’t recognize.

She’s glad not to be naked anymore, and it’s weird, how little she misses her cheerleading uniform. Or Hawkins. Or her boyfriend.

The ride to the settlement she just… sits, curled up into a ball, skittish and on edge as she looks around herself in… shock. And a little wonder. But what she’s told bothers her. ‘You're important.’ ‘The gods have graced us with your presence.’ That’s impossible. She can’t be. She’s not. Important. Meaningful. A gift from the gods. She’s just… her.

But the people in Solvunn act like she is. Treat her like she is. She has an apartment all to herself, and there is a sort of… awe, and respect, in how they approach her. They give her gifts; a bottle of wine, and cheese, and she’s flustered and blushing as she accepts them.

By now she’s starting to believe that it’s all real. No hallucination.

Even though she wants nothing more than to stay inside this new apartment and never come out… she finally forces herself out the door and into the settlement. If this is real… well, she’s probably not going anywhere soon. She enters the shops like she’s doing her best to just… go unnoticed, looking at everything, brushing her fingertips against fabric, or pots and vases. Just taking it all in. Exploring the marketplace she’s still skittish, jumping at shadows and certainly other people.

When she starts and jumps back from someone coming around the corner she slams into someone else, and she spins like a startled deer, eyes wide. “I’m so sorry!”

Later, when she’s starting to be a little less skittish, a little less afraid (it helps that something feels different, here. She feels. Different. There are no hallucinations haunting her, no sounds of a clock chiming) she finds herself… laughing, REALLY laughing, for only the second time in… a long time, as a small gaggle of kids drag her into their game of tag. (She can’t deny their pleading with her to please come play.)

Which is how she finds herself running around as the gaggle of kids scatter and she chases, shrieking and laughing as she tries to tag them. She’s laughing too.

THORNE.
Choking, Chrissy is dragged from the water with a terrified scream, struggling away from whoever it is that has pulled her from the water. Scrabbling backwards until her back hits the fountain she was just yanked out of. She’s panicking, gasping for breath as she stares at them, stares everywhere. Looking all around, wildly. Frantic. Like she wants to run. Like she’s terrified.

But there’s nothing there. No horrifying figure. No clock. No horrible images. Just people in robes that look like they’re out of some kind of fantasy movie or something. Or D&D, maybe, she thinks, thinking of Eddie. She watches them, eyes wide, wondering what’s going on. She doesn’t know where she is, except that it’s definitely not Hawkins. (Maybe that’s a good thing.)

The… pupil holds out clothes and she takes them from him before skittering back a few steps, clutching them to her chest for a moment before she scrambles to get dressed. They’re loose… until the leader waves his hand and then suddenly they fit her perfectly.

Magic? Maybe. She doesn’t even know if this is real. Maybe it’s just another hallucination. At least this one isn’t… bad.

They ask her to come with them and she does. Where else is she going to go? And she listens as they tell her all about where she is. A castle someplace called Thorne. When she’s told that tales of her exploits have reached far and wide across universes she laughs softly, curling in on herself a little. That’s impossible. There are no exploits. She’s just a head cheerleader in high school. She’s nothing important.

She peeks into room after room, once she’s brought to the North Wing, searching for a room that looks like it’s unoccupied. And once she does, she chooses a bed, sitting on the edge of it and playing with the hem of her tunic. And startling should the door open.

The dining hall is somewhere she mostly avoids, choosing instead to explore the castle for a little bit. Despite how nervous and skittish she feels. There’s a symbol embroidered on her clothes and she doesn’t know what it means. But she wants to. “What does it mean? Do you know?” She asks softly.

Once she’s done exploring, she heads out into town. She’s starting to think that this is really real. She’s still skittish, startling and sidling out of the way when caught by surprise. But she’s starting… to realise that something feels different, here. She feels. Different. There aren't any hallucinations haunting her, no sounds of a clock chiming.

It's nice.

WILDCARD.

[Choose your own adventure, or message me and we can plot something!]

Arrival

It should be terrifying, to be suspended in the silent darkness of oblivion, senses muted, all a stillness so profound it could ring the ears and stir up nightmares aplenty.

It is comforting to the dragon nestled within it, save the slow starvation of air he rarely needed much of at all; shrouded in that abyss of shadow, he waits, aware on some level that he'd lost dragon-scales and now wore his "human" form. Still, darkness is his element and is ever familiar and welcome, and the intruding fragment of light -- light?

Water?

Water. Cold, unwelcoming water, not his element, not his mana, and before Zodiark can begin to fight for the surface, he's seized and pulled out regardless with gentler hands than he ever expects to feel. The surprise of it keeps him unresisting as his ashen skin is wrapped in something warm and he's guided to solid ground, eyes wide. That shock doesn't fade, even as a strange human declares him a 'success' (did they know, could they know they'd somehow drawn the Shadowwyrm to them? Would it end in disaster, as it has so many other times?), and clothing is provided. They're all so kindly, so relieved seeming. It's ... strange. So strange that their kindness aches somewhere inside. His disguise, it seems, continues to shield him.

Zodiark is nothing but compliant with those who do aid him, or offer him little gifts or a kind word, the information he's given absorbed and tucked away for later. These people need help. He can't feel the mana around him, he felt weak and helpless, but ... but his claws are still sharp and he knows how to use mortal weapons and he ... he doesn't believe in their gods, but he'd never refused to help others before. Starting now, even as strangely feeble as he is, simply can't happen.

"I will help you in any way I can."

Primary Settlement, Solvunn

To most people looking, he could be one of countless humanoids, albeit slightly dragonish at glance, given the tail, horns, reptilian violet eyes, and sharp claws. Not too tall, not too short though oddly gray skinned. It's meant to blend in even if he got the details of 'human' wrong. Still wearing his new charm, Zodiark has thrown himself into whatever work he can find and refusing any form of payment for it; weak as he is from arrival, that's not all that much, though he spends some time setting out hot pies for a vendor in nice neat rows for others to purchase, smelling strongly of sweet fruits, or a bit more in the afternoon aiding with general clean-up after the morning's activities. If there's something to do that can be done in spite of his unsteadiness and discoordination without access to the mana he's used to, Zodiark doesn't hesitate to do it. Nothing is ever asked in return. Given his willingness to help, he can probably be fairly easily coerced into helping anyone, really.

As midday rolls around, the dragon-in-disguise finds himself with some fruit and a cup of water no amount of refusal would allow him to leave without, and so sitting under the shady eave of a convenient home, he sets to work on his free lunch. Fruit may not be his favorite, but it's something.

With the arrival of evening, Zodiark relocates himself to an open field just outside of town to watch the sun sink below the horizon and darkness begin to encroach. With evening, he'd always felt stronger, but today ... today it eludes him. Still, he closes his eyes and draws a deep breath to savor the scents and taste in the air.

"What a strange, welcoming place this is. Is it its kindness that draws doom upon it, I wonder, like wolves scenting easy targets in the flock.."

Edited 2022-07-21 22:11 (UTC)

▶ one. arrival

⟪ The last thing she recalls of her world is to be submerged in water, so it doesn't surprise her that she is now, well... Drowning. It is a death so outlandish that she hasn't really bothered to picture it much: poison had seemed likely, in a palace full of traitors-to-be. Fire, obviously. Knives. She struggles against it, of course, tries to reach a surface she cannot even see anymore, and then, she is pulled straight out of this particular hell, and into daylight.

This, now, doesn't quite align with the fight, with that water peasant and the brother she'd finally struck down. In fact, everything about it, from the strangely-clad people to the bizarre looking fountain behind her, is enough to startle some relative sense back into her. When she had been screaming before water in her lungs became a sincere concern, she is now awfully quiet.

For a moment. One of the people - a lower-ranking one, she would wager, considering that he has been given the dull task of explaining what, in truth, she isn't quite able to absorb, prattles on at her forever. None of what he says is in any way sensible, and the longer it goes on, the more she is disturbed by his failure to bow to her properly.

She is adjusting her tunic, the cut of which is only slightly unfamiliar, when he finally says something that makes any sense to her at all.

He has heard of her exploits. ⟫

Of course you have heard of me. You would have to be daft not to.

▶ two. roommates

⟪ She has been made to understand that she will be lead to her quarters, which may or may not have something to do with her trying to set something valuable on fire – only failing, really, because her powers have not yet been returned to her.

The door is shut behind her, a kindly, if somewhat disturbed-looking servant of the castle being rather firm with it, and she turns to observe her rooms.

Room.

One critical piece of information has been left out thus far: she hasn't been told she would be sharing, and it's an outlandish concept to her, princess, no, fire lord until proven otherwise, to room with another person. Without cause, that is, and she most definitely does not see cause here.

It's only natural, then, that she goes with the most natural assumption: ⟫

It isn't much. ⟪ Her voice is sharp, as is her displeasure. ⟫ But at least it comes with its own servant.

⟪ Maybe correct her on that. ⟫

▶ three. wildcard

⟪ feel free to just assume she arrived in any of the other two locations, find her trying to eat the top three spiciest things thorne has to offer on about day four, or, really, anything else. if you want to do something but don't know what, hit me up on plurk @ nehelenia and we can bounce some ideas around! ⟫

ONE: ARRIVAL.

This is hardly the symbol of my house at all, nor is it my Crest ...

[ he is grumbling about the sigil in his clothes as he wanders towards the dining hall. there is a delicious smell about but he doesn't know who anyone is, nor where he is. loathe as he is to try the food, he is hungry, and his body makes that plainly known.

in the mess hall, he goes to a table and says, ]

Pardon me. Is this seat taken?

OOC. if nothing else, he can also be found in the training grounds. he is suddenly marvelling about the fact that he literally cannot break any of the weapons. he seems elated, at first, then awfully concerned as he picks one weapon, tries to smash it on the ground, and returns it.

TWO: FREE CITIES.

[ dimitri is seen playing with the children. it seems they've elected him as their leader, and he has a ball, so he's trying to make teams. ]

Ah, well - we have to make sure each team has the same amount of people in it -

[ his eyes alight upon you, and waves you over with a slight smile. ] Do you mind helping out? We're short of one player.

THREE: SOLVUNN. (MAIN ROAD)

[ dimitri can be seen at the edge of the settlement, looking over the notices they have regarding monster clean-up. ]

It's a terrible job, but one can hardly ignore the dangers of it to the people living here.

[ if you're near him, he'll ask you - ] Are you interested?

WILDCARD

ooc. i can roll with most things, just let me know.

𝔦. 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔰

[ for the past year and a day, imelda has been stuck in a castle with a man she does not love, kept company with only her own handmaids (who keep making her try to wear the shoes she buys, not seeming to understand that imelda would rather eat the shoes than wear them) and occasionally a rogue chipmunk that came to explore the castle. she's not used to living with other people, especially considering her husband lived in his own wing, and her mouth turns down in a frown when she is escorted into the barracks.

still, she has eleven sisters, she'll be fine, surely.

she opens the trunk at the foot of her bed, but it's empty save for a second woolen blanket and she straightens up. ]

Hello, have you see a brown cloak recently? He might think he's a horse. Might be attached to a man called Ambrose?

𝔦𝔦. 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔥𝔞𝔩𝔩

[ imelda eventually finds her way to the mess hall where she promptly grabs a plate of probably someone else's food.

in her defense, she is used to having food prepared for her. she's a princess! she doesn't know she has to stand in line. ]

Does this have tomatoes in it? I think I may be intolerant of tomatoes.

𝔦𝔦𝔦. 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔡

( go where your heart takes you! any of the scenarios would suit and she's very, almost obnoxiously curious. to note, she will not ever have shoes on. )

♠ CADENS ♠ THE RETURN
[ It isn't difficult to pretend that she's overwhelmed by her circumstances. Nor that she feels weak from the loss of her astral energy, from her connection to Dahna and the magic of the world around her. These are legitimate feelings, held steadily at the fore as Rinwell takes stock of her situation. And mentally masks the shock of receiving waves of memory from her previous time here.

It isn't hard to pretend she doesn't recognize Marlo, reeling as she is, and her mage escort helpfully takes her to the barracks, helps her pull together some smaller clothing bearing the symbol of the Magician arcana and tucks her into bed.

The exhaustion is unfeigned. At least that first night.

She doesn't lurk by the training yard, but fellow new arrivals might spot her in the barracks or mess hall. She'll be sitting reading a book she's scrounged up, her food more or less going cold beside her, if not staring into the middle distance distractedly. She's young, too - can't be that much older than fourteen, fifteen if you push it - and looks very out of place in such a military setting.

A couple of the guards on duty recognize her over the following two nights; she feels a twinge of guilt for feigning ignorance, but they don't seem to mind. If anything, there is perhaps concern directed her way, even pity, and they're willing to share some information about where she is, about the nearest city, and even some mention of arts and performances (and politics, but she doesn't really have to feign how her eyes glaze over at that mention).

Four days later, there's a wagon heading into the city. She's there at daybreak, read to help offload and load up (well, as best she can: those noodle arms aren't exactly suited to heavy lifting), and she'll be almost too eager to get going once it's time to set off. There's an obedient nod when there's a reminder to be home for sundown, but once the wagon's far enough away from the outpost, her expression makes it clear she has no intention of following that command.

Once in the city proper? Once past the gate, with the wagon moving through the streets towards its destination, Rinwell will wait just long enough to be past any armored guards before she's swinging her legs over the side and dropping out, ducking between figures in the crowd. She got to know these streets once. Who knows what has changed - and who else might still be here?

♣ THORNE ♣ LIKE HOME BUT NOT
[ Oh no. Oh no no no.

Rinwell does not want to be here.

Everything about this place screams "Renan" to her, from the fine clothing of the residents of the Castle to the fancy bed she's been granted in the shared dorm room. Lacking astral energy thanks to the portal spell, and with no spell book with which to focus her talents, it isn't hard to play dumb and afraid. She looks uncomfortable in the assigned finery, too, the silken tunic plucked at from time to time; the Magician arcana embroidered on it remains a constant, it would seem.

She recalls vaguely what little she picked up about the place and its native people from the peaceful gathering of the three nations - just how long ago was that now? (Not that Rinwell will be asking...) And remembers, a little too well, the harm that had befallen people she had known and trusted here at the hands of this kingdom...

Exploring the castle (where permitted at least) means you will most likely find her in the library, an all too big heap of books pulled from the shelves and stacked on the table before her. Magic, of course, is the foremost topic, along with various subjects such as local history and myths and legends. ..But mostly magic.

Another location she might appear is the mess hall, where the range of food available is regarded with an overt amount of suspicion. Eventually however, even she can't help reaching for at least some bread and cheese.

Eventually Rinwell's wanderings might take her out in the courtyard, or up on the battlements lining the high castle walls. All the better to give the lost mageling a view of the world beyond: far greener than the deserts of the Free Cities, it reminds her a little of Elde Menancia. (She's not quite brave enough to head to the town by herself, but perhaps, if you're going...?) ]

• WILD CARD •
[ Hit meh! I'm open for encounter ideas in both Cadens and Thorne! Rinwell was previously here, and has her memories of her previous visit - though her long absence means the Free Cities doesn't remember her. (And she'll be happy about that.) ]

Edited (minor tweaking) 2022-07-21 23:59 (UTC)

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