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vivalaooc2024-07-31 09:00 pm
vivalamods) wrote in vivalaooc2024-07-31 09:00 pm
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TDM #2
TEST DRIVE #2
The day begins as any other, you’re going about your day, living your life, when, without warning, you feel the world around you shift on its axis. You feel a great tear, welling from the depths of your soul as you are ripped from all you have known. If you’re lucky, you arrive in the wilderness of an unfamiliar world, where the language is foreign and the people are hostile. To make your escape, you must learn some language, flee, and occasionally fight, all to find your way off the floating isles you find yourself on and to the great ocean below, where rebel forces will welcome you.
If you’re unlucky, you materialize within a room full of armed guards and are quickly subdued with charged nets, stripped of your belongings, fitted with strange devices that suppress your powers and pressed into servitude. Your days are unimaginable pain and toil.
Fortunately, even in this world, there is still hope. For the denizens of this world have not given up. And it is for that dream of salvation that the Crimson Corsairs raise their flags and sail - for liberation. Perhaps you are one who has lived their entire life under the oppressive yoke of the Empire. Perhaps you have seen first hand your family and friends cut down by nobles hunting men for sport, or perhaps you have run afoul with the church and barely escaped with your life. No matter your origin, the Corsairs sail for you, for your freedom, for your life. And today, a taste of freedom will be won for all.
ARRIVAL/LIBERATION
The Corsairs are flush with victory over the Hesaeth labor camp. A mining operation formerly under control of the Empire, this strategic victory will give the Corsairs access to desperately needed materials to build weapons and war machines. The former members of the labor camp are being quickly evacuated - packed onto ships and taken to the floating city of Flotsam for a hot meal and integration into the broader organization.
Many of the prisoners were armed ahead of the fight and took part in the rebellion themselves, while many others were whisked away by rescuers so their injuries could be treated. The mines were a harsh life, but for now, at least, the former workers are free. The mess hall of Flotsam rings out in merriment as the new arrivals are fed and clothed, but for those who took part in the fighting, they may do well to seek out their assigned berths… assuming they can find much of anything. Flotsam is many things, but organized and constant it is not.
THE TRIALS AHEAD
With the Hesaeth mining camp now under Corsair control, the arduous task of staffing and defending it now falls to them. Engineers and tacticians are convening in the Vault to discuss matters and make plans. Staff assignments, escape routes, potentially rigging the entire site with explosives, nothing is off the table. The Corsairs know that their victory will be short-lived, the Empire can crush a static operation with the full might of their army should they so choose. But so long as they hold it, the Corsairs must plan to use it. And when the time comes that the Empire attacks, they must do everything in their power to get as many people as they can out alive.
Scholars are going to be especially busy as schematics are being passed through the building. Every ounce of knowledge stored in the Vault’s considerable archive is being turned to this project, so meetings are frequent between committees and subcommittees as the Corsairs quickly and (mostly) efficiently prepare and execute a plan to secure the site and get it operational in short order.
AIRBORNE ASSAULT
The next mission is already being planned, and what scholars and tacticians can be spared from the massive effort of turning the Hesaeth mining camp into a viable operation have been tapped to plan the next mission - a daring attack on a VIP’s airship escort. The Corsairs are still determining how they want to approach the attack, but one thing is certain - they will need means to attack the airborne fleet before it arrives on Elysium’s soil.
With the miniscule amount of airships in the Corsair fleet, the Corsairs must carefully plan their troop placement and plan of attack. Gliders are already being churned out of the Vault’s lower workshops to support the boarding crew. Whether they sink or capture the airships, the attack crew will need everything it can get.
Beyond that, those who are preparing to take part in the operation are getting a crash course in ship combat. Glider usage will be critical, so glider lessons are taking place in Flotsam, and those who don’t have experience on airships will get to be taken up - best they get their air legs now and upend the contents of their stomach BEFORE the operation. Those hoping to fight will be spending their time flying up in the airship and using their gliders to return to Flotsam below.
FESTIVAL OF GAMES
In the waning days of summer, the world used to celebrate the changing of seasons and the start of the harvest with games, feats of skill, and banquets. While the Empire has mercilessly crushed all these old festivals, the Corsairs have managed to preserve the traditions and carry them forward.
Across the three cities, competitions are happening. In Vault, indoor competitions are held in large underground arenas set up specifically for these festivals. In Flotsam, there are chaotic boat races, swimming contests, spearfishing competitions and other such aquatic endeavors. Even Elysium is observing a hunt festival where people cull monsters and try to bring home the most game, although much of it will be siphoned off by the Empire. Spirits are high, good cheer is had by all, and the grog is flowing freely for any Corsairs who might want to participate or spectate.
WILDCARD
Have an idea for your own prompt? Feel free to make any prompt that you think would fit!
OOC
Welcome to the Second Test-Drive Meme for Viva La! All threads here may be considered canon once characters have entered the game. Threads here are eligible for use as a roleplay sample for applications, which will open on the 5th of August at midnight.
code credit
Iren Suto | Original | AU
Iren had no desire to risk her life in brutish front line battles. She preferred less direct ways of helping out the revolution.
For example, on the celebration of the prisoner raid, she was waiting at Flotsam's mess hall with several cases of mead that were of much higher quality than most of the grog available. Enough that everyone could get at least a taste. And for any particularly heroic figures, she had even supplied a few high end bottles of various sorts.
Iren herself was behind the bar, serving drinks and food. She moved quickly and professionally, to the point that sometimes her implements seemed to be moving themselves around.
...Actually no. Looking closer, it looks like some of the plates and mugs she's slinging about ARE moving themselves around to make sure they reach the right person. Apparently she's a mage of some sort.
-2: Festival of Games-
Again, Iren had no interest in actually competing in games of strength and showing off. She was more interested in information, logistics, and (most importantly) hospitality.
The Laughing Toadstool is a friendly looking bar in Elysium. It doesn't feature many of the more extreme entertainments the region is known for, but it does feature decent food and drink at reasonable prices, a welcoming atmosphere, and live music most nights. It should be utterly unremarkable, honestly, but there's just something about the place that draws the eye when you're tired or hungry. Almost like it was built on the ruins of an ancient shrine to a god of hospitality and travelers who was all but stamped out by the Empire but still lingered on as a shade in Iren's basement.
Iren herself did steady trade and kept her head down, for the most part. But it was known to the Corsairs to be a safehouse and a place where information could change hands discreetly. During the Festival of Games, Iren has put up a chalkboard where she's keeping track of who has hunted what, with promises of free drinks for anyone with particularly impressive trophies. It's her way of keeping morale up.
She looks over from her step stool by the board at you, when you come in, and shouts across the room. "Did you get anything good?"
-3: Wildcard-
The worst has happened. Your cover has been blown. Imperial agents are HOT on your heels, looking to take you in for "questioning," which everyone knows is a euphemism for "you will never be seen again."
Fortunately, the Laughing Toadstool is within reach, and known to be a safehouse for Corsairs in a bind.
Iren was all smiles, as she is to most people who enter her bar, but when she realized the situation her demeanor suddenly got serious as she bundled you off into a broom closet to hide just before Imperial agents burst into the room.
It was a pretty sad hiding spot, and probably wouldn't stand up to even a half hearted search, especially since Iren was standing in front of it when they burst in. So it's a bit of a relief when the wooden planks making up the back wall of the closet started smoothly sliding aside, revealing a ladder downwards.
Downstairs, in what must be a hidden basement, was a buried shrine to a dead god. But gods don't die like humans do. There was still a distinct feeling of being watched.
It wasn't until half an hour later that Iren came down the stairs (not the ladder).
"I thought they'd never leave. Are you alright?"
Festival
"Fins."
Wrong competition. ...Wrong city. And wrong place to bring dead fish.
"May I speak to the chef of this establishment? I understand it is meal time, and I do not wish to disturb the preparations. But to see these lives go to waste is to sow ill fortune, and I cannot consume these on my own."
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Iren craned her neck to get a better look at what she had.
Yup, that’s a bucket of fish. Iren’s customer service smile got a little glassy. She had learned to accept fish as food, and on a good day she might even be willing to admit it had its own appeal, but eating it always reminded her of how far she had fallen in society.
“Ah…yes. I’m sure they can come up with something to do with that. As trophies go it’s certainly creative.”
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It is becoming clear that this has nothing whatsoever to do with the festival.
"I will help prepare the catch, naturally. Would you show me the way?"
A pair of gloves, a fish scaler, and a rubber apron have appeared in her other hand. ...It is also becoming clear that this person is inviting herself into the establishment without the slightest thought of asking permission. Still, there is a warmth and charm about her despite her presumptuousness.
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Iren trailed off as she watched the girl just walk purposefully into her own kitchen. “Um. Miss?”
Iren slid down the ladder and followed her. “You really don’t have to do that. Our cook is perfectly good at their job.”
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Shu shakes her head as if she were not the one intruding.
"I will be quick. It is no boon if I were to cause more inconvenience than gratitude."
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Whups they’re in the kitchen now. The chef, who was for now a faceless npc, looked up in confusion but Iren just shrugged helplessly. “We might as well just let her cook something. We’re short handed tonight as it is.”
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Shu beams beatifically as she takes stock of the kitchen in a sweeping glance and sets up her fish scaling station in an unobtrusive corner. Soon enough, there are scales flying expertly into a plastic bag held open by Shu's tail.
"This restplace -- is it yours?"
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Unsure what else to do against Shu's extremely polite unstoppability, Iren leaned on the counter next to her with her arms folded casually, far enough away that she wouldn't get any fish on her. "It's as much a part of me as any building can be."
And here she is, invading the kitchen.
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"That is an unusual way of putting it." Her expression is unaltered as she glances up briefly. "It is an -- attractive establishment."
There is something about the way she says the word 'attractive' that suggests she is choosing it just as deliberately as Iren chose her previous statement.
"I feel much at ease."
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Just who was this woman?
"I'm glad. It's supposed to make people feel welcome. I don't think I got your name, though..."
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As a result, when Iren came down the stairs, the light and sound made her shriek. "Wha-oh, um, yes? Yes, I think I'll be alright, maybe?"
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Well, one did, but it was one she knew.
“You look exhausted, poor thing. Don’t worry. It’s nearly impossible to find someone here if I don’t want them to be found. Consider yourself my guest for as long as you need.”
The moment she said “guest” the energy in the basement shrine changed entirely. The shadows were less black, the light less harsh. The sense of being watched was replaced with a sense of being protected.
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She gets to her feet, a bit slowly, looking around the basement. "Um, and it was really dark down here. So I was just praying a lot and...you interrupted my concentration."
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Iren addressed the air. “I have the situation under control. You can stop bothering her.”
Then she addressed Angelika again. “There’s an old god who lives down here. He noticed your prayers and no doubt got interested, the same way a wolf would get interested if you started waving a steak in its face.”
After a moment’s thought, she added on “but less likely to bite you.” While eyeing the book thoughtfully.
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Angelika turned and bowed to the small shrine. "Sorry your Lordship, forgive me my trespassing." As polite and formal as she could manage, before she turned back to Iren. "I'll try not to agitate your divinity ma'am." Wait, was that the correct term? "Um, Priestess?"
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She gestured to the shrine. “Morrah is a god of travelers and hospitality. He’s exactly the sort of thing the Empire wants stamped out but, as I mentioned, you can’t find anything here that I don’t want found.”
2
Which is why she looks flummoxed when she brings in a bundle of varicolored waterproof feathers of impressive size.
"Did you know there were giant penguin monsters here?" she asks the bartender, even as she takes down the hood she uses to give herself a low profile in Elysium. "I don't get it, it's not even cold."
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Iren wrote “giant penguin feathers” on the board, then turned to her guest. “Can I put a name down for you on the score board?”
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Imperials tended to skip the Laughing Toadstool. The vibes felt off to them, for some reason. But even so…”you’re not under any obligation to use your real name. I just need to be able to find the winner at the end of the festival.”
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Ideas flit through Fiore's head as she considers. Eagle-1? Too generic. The Crimson Lotus? Color theme is good but it's kinda pretentious. Penguin-slayer...no, she'd never live that one down.
She's considering long enough that Iren could probably chime in with an idea if she cared.
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“How about that?”
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