Test Drive Meme #1

[vivalamods]

TEST DRIVE #1

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
This month, the Crimson Corsairs raided a Larendt labor camp in order to obtain much-needed parts and textiles as well as liberate another batch of servants for the cause. The raid was executed under the cover of night, with one team sweeping the dormitories and gathering as many servants as they could while the other team hit factories as they could, focusing on taking important items like ship parts and clothing, loading them into prepared trams and fleeing before the guard could mobilize. The operation, thankfully, went off without a hitch, and the Corsairs were able to usher a number of servants into their waiting ships.

As dawn breaks, the raiding fleet docks at Flotsam as the city-fleet begins the long journey away from the continent before a retaliation fleet can be mobilized. The former servants are finally let above deck. The sun is beating down hard on them, its brilliance marking their first step into freedom.

Corsairs on the fleet will have a lot to do - the new arrivals will need to be sorted, clothed, and fed. Many are emaciated from the conditions in the labor camp, and the former servants will be immediately ushered to a mess hall for their first meal as free folk. Corsairs will be needed to organize the movement, prepare and serve the food, and also just sit with them and talk to them, helping them adjust and filling them in on the situation.

Former servants will have found the entire process exhausting to say the least. They were awoken in the dead of night by heavily armed people quickly moving through, shattering their chains and ushering them into ships. The entire night was spent sailing, and while the hull is dark it is crowded and difficult to sleep in. Finally, upon arrival they are ushered into a meal hall and served a humble meal - but a meal that far exceeds anything that was ever served at the servant’s table. What is known is that they are now free.


MEANWHILE IN THE WATERLOGGED ROW…

With another successful mission under their belt and their duties more or less complete, the triumphant Corsairs observe a time-honored tradition: heading to the Waterlogged Row and getting absolutely shitfaced on awful grog.

The mood is jubilant and self-congratulatory, with drinking songs ringing out across Flotsam. In consideration to other residents, the Row is currently moored a good distance from the residential areas to keep the celebrations from disturbing what little peace there is in the chaotic town that is Flotsam. But for those who participated in the mission, tonight is about celebration. Singing, storytelling, socializing, this is the glue that holds the operations team together. And as the Crimson Corsairs do not officially recognize a drinking age, everyone is welcome! Even if they probably shouldn’t be!

New arrivals are, of course, not at all restricted so those who finish their meal and go exploring will quickly find the Row, as well as many Corsairs eager to buy them a pint to toast their newfound freedom.


MAKING THE GOOD STUFF

Elysium often serves as the crux of Corsair operations, and the next operation is no different. While the operations team is carousing and toasting their success, the planning team is hard at work preparing for the next mission.

The order of the day is gathering, which has brought the team to the forests outside of Elysium. In the coming month, Elysium will host a lavish party for the guards of a certain continent, and it is the duty of the gatherers to ensure that any drink served is “enhanced”, with such potency that they won’t be in any position to do their duty when the raiders strike.

Any herbology specialists will be absolutely vital for this operation. While the Corsairs have some documents and know, generally, what they’re looking for, there are a wide variety of things that grow within the forest, many of which can be quite dangerous.

Those new to gathering will really need to watch their step. Elysium is rich in hallucinogens, and a whiff of the wrong flower or mushroom could leave them contemplating their navel for the next hour. Tasting is out of the question, but what they don’t know can’t hurt them right? After all, the Elysium workers spend a lot of time eradicating poisoned growths to keep wandering nobles safe so anything they find can’t be THAT bad. Right?

And of course, for experienced foragers, they will find an entirely new duty thrust upon them - keeping the newbies in line. Really, how can they expect anything productive to be done when they send a bunch of green recruits into a forest full of hallucinogens?


EDUCATION AS THE BOMBS FALL

New Corsairs almost always find themselves in the Vault. Nestled in the earth and subject to the constant pounding of munitions overhead, the Vault is the repository of knowledge for the Crimson Corsairs and the place where new inductees are educated. Language instruction, education on the world and its people, writing, reading, arithmetic, just about any kind of learning can be done in the Vault’s halls.

Notable about the Vault’s education is how deeply tied it is to the Crimson Corsair’s broader philosophy - everyone’s unique talents and insight have value. As such, Corsairs are often called to the Vault to share their specialized expertise. While many Corsairs do choose to become full-time teachers, any Corsair can come and teach a class.

For the new Corsairs, now is a time to learn and train, acclimate themselves to their situation and figure out where they want to go from here. For established Corsairs, this is an opportunity to meet the new recruits and help train them so they can help with the cause. Those who might be students today will be comrades standing at your side tomorrow, so teach them well.


DANGER AT SEA

As the most mobile of the Corsair’s settlements and the only obvious Imperial target, Flotsam is well equipped to deal with any number of dangers. One such danger is the enormous sea monsters who dwell within the Eternal Ocean. While many are not too keen to tangle with such a large fleet, occasionally a monster will become angry or territorial enough to try to attack the fleet.

And it is for that reason that the Corsairs now find themselves battling a massive sea serpent that has stretched itself across the western edge of the fleet. New Corsairs aren’t expected to assist in this battle, but as the sinking of Flotsam would be VERY BAD for those who are currently trying to live on it, many will jump in anyway, especially as they should have been issued weapons. As to established Corsairs, well, you know the drill by now. Monster bad, try to sink ship, let’s convince it that there are easier marks than the pride of the Corsair fleet.

Some Corsairs will need to man the cannons to blow it away, but many will get up close and personal, jumping into melee range to drive it away from the ships and mitigate as much damage as they can. Others still will provide support from the back with magic or ranged weaponry, and still others will need to weave their way in between the battle to carry out wounded Corsairs for medical attention. Whatever your specialty, your city needs you. Best get to work.


WILDCARD

Have an idea for your own prompt? Feel free to make any prompt that you think would fit!

OOC
Welcome to the first 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 15th of June at midnight.

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QUESTIONS

[vivalamods]

Ask any questions here!

[guidingbookworm]

Would it be alright to make a couple prompts before and during the Crimson Corsairs raid on the labor camp, instead of after?

Are there any labor camps close to Elysium, and could a servant be trusted to run small errands outside of the labor camp? I want to keep Sirius as a servant for awhile so my thought is that he can secretly meet up with the corsairs gathering in the forest. Could that work?

Preme | Precure All Stars F | OU

[curebootleg]

[[OOC: Don't sweat trying to figure out Preme's pronouns; any set is fine.]]

- Liberation -

[ For Preme, imperial slavery was a unique experience. It was the first time it had ever experienced weakness.

While its first reaction was anger and hatred against this 'Empire', but it pushed back against that reflex. Those girls were fragile and weak before; was that somehow the key to their power? If nothing else, this could be a chance to test a few theories. For now, it just had to survive.

After three weeks of brutal toil, Preme had a pretty solid grasp of the local language. Weakness and suffering had so far failed to provide any useful insights, other than that she wanted to become powerful again as soon as possible. Learning from the foundation was a solid concept, but there had to be a better foundation than this work camp. Was there any way she could escape? In this wretched state, she couldn't even break metal chains. The overpowering weakness of unmodified humans surpassed all expectations.

Then, suddenly, a new faction arrived, breaking their chains and ushering them away to a new place. The piercing brightness of an unfamiliar sun. Apparently they were 'free' now.

Preme stares down at the bread on their plate. What was it that one of those humans had said? It had sounded asinine at the time, but eating real food after weeks of being half-starved, they felt... something. It wasn't a smile, but the same experience of eating ordinary food seemed to carry a different meaning now. ]

What was it? "Food is happiness"...?

[ They mutter softly between bites, as if unconvinced of their own words. ]


- Waterlogged Row -

[ Wandering the area at random after being liberated, Preme has come across the apparently-infamous Waterlogged Row. The spirit of good cheer sets of unpleasant memories, but before she thinks to leave, someone's shoved a drink into her hands, and the next thing she knows, she's surrounded by jubilant chaos. Maybe this is something else that she needs to understand.

So, near the edge of the revelries is a... girl? Honestly it's hard to pin their gender down at a glance, but they couldn't be more than 16. They don't look like they belong at all, staring blankly into the happy crowd as if it's full of aliens. Which, in a sense, it is.

Should he catch anyone looking his way, he raises the mug of grog and asks, ]

What is this?


- Education -

[ This one actually draws Preme's attention. Education? That's exactly what he was looking for. He needs information, and if anyone's going to provide anything useful, it'll be here.

However, they don't get far into the first lecture - one about the Crimson Corsair philosophy of cherishing all talents and insights - before speaking up. This seems like an important idea, and it's worth properly understanding it. ]

That can't be true, can it? If there are multiple people providing the same function, one of them must be superior to the others. What value is there from learning from inferior talents?

Liberation

[transrobotism]

_{[ A woman dressed in the familiar togs of a fellow freed captive takes a seat across from them. Her airs are rather relaxed for the circumstance; a firm-set smile, dozey eyes and... ]}

Pardon me... Didn't that one go, "food is love, food is life?"

_{[ ...a soft, warm voice. ]}

...but I could be wrong. I haven't heard very many local proverbs.

The T-800 | Terminator 2: Judgment Day (OU)

[knowhyoucry]

Liberation

The big man has been quietly and efficiently working since he arrived at the camp a few weeks previous. He doesn't talk much, but he watches. Watches the guards, watches the other prisoners. When the Corsairs come to the camp, he's not asleep. Fortunately, one one would-be liberator gets picked up by the neck one-handed and tossed against the wall before the others manage to tell him they're here to rescue him and the others. He lets himself be led with no complaint after that.

(A few cracked ribs for the Corsair, but nothing too serious.)

In the hold, he tries to make as much room as he can, and he watches. He doesn't make conversation unless approached.

It's not until they're all back at Flotsom and a meal is kindly, if unnecessarily, being put in front of him, that he says anything of his own volition, in only slightly-accented Imperial.

"This is unnecessary. I do not require sustenance to function."

Danger At Sea

The T-800 understands how it came to be here, and what it needs to do to return home to its original mission. It has decided that working with this resistance is the most efficient way of doing this, so for now it counts itself as a member of the Crimson Corsairs. Which means when the sea monster attacks, it leaps into the fray.

Its directive to not take any human life does not apply to this creature, but lacking weapons, it makes do with its own strength, leaping into the fray to attack the parts of it attacking the ships directly.

It may also find someone wounded, or in need of rescue. Though this is not part of its mission directives, it has extrapolated that the protection of human life would fall under the parameters set by John in 1997, and reacts accordingly, offering a hand to help you up, and a single reassurance.

"Come with me if you want to live."

Patrol

Since it requires no sleep, and since the danger of attack, from the Empire or elsewhere has been proven, when night falls, the T-800 patrols the decks of Flotsom, scanning the horizon for potential dangers. It does not ask for company, but does not object to anyone joining it if they so choose. However, it does feel the need to give a reminder.

"I will be patrolling until dawn. Sleep is a human necessity, and it would be tactically-unsound for you to ignore it. Get some when it becomes necessary." A beat. "Please."

It is, in fact, learning already.

Liberation

[freearcadia]

The words 'do not require substance' catches his ears, causing the pirate to look up from his carefully picked at meal. A Machine man? Here? Harlock's good eye wanders to the conversation, and the rather flustered corsair trying to insist on giving the rather built stranger food.

"I don't think... he's trying to be..." Harlock pauses, fishing for the right word in the language. "Considerate. There are people in other... worlds that don't need to eat regular food." The man added, more as to reassure the corsair they don't need to waste their time insisting on the matter.

Ziel of the Wastelands | Cradle | AU

[achelord]

-1: The Good Stuff-

Ziel, lost in a world that wasn't his own, sat down and stared at a fern.

Had he ever really considered a fern before? It was a fern more than anything else could possibly be a fern. It existed in a whole world of being a fern that he could never imagine. There was an infinite amount of subtleties and texture to being a fern that he had never considered before this moment. What must it be like, he wondered, to be a fern? To think fern-y thoughts and see the world from a fern's viewpoint? Ziel was suddenly struck by an incomprehensible feeling of the vastness of difference between his own perception of the universe and that of the fern's.

Ziel explored an infinite world of alien viewpoints in an internal world he could scarcely comprehend, while in the real world he sat on the ground and stared at a fern for twenty minutes without moving. Those spores had REALLY done a number to him.

-2: Waterlogged Row-

Ziel had hoped for a quiet drink and instead found a tavern full of drunken hooligans. He settled for a quiet corner that he hoped no one would bother him in while he slowly dissolved his brain in alcohol.

Unfortunately, nature called before he got more than mildly buzzed. As he returned from the facilities to his seat, Ziel bumped into someone. He muttered "Sorry."

Bumping into Ziel is like bumping into a cargo ship. He has a sense of inevitability and mass about him that's hard to overcome. He's a big guy, but even beyond that you're as likely to knock him over as you are to knock over an iron post set in cement. More likely (especially if you've been drinking a bit) he just sent you tumbling onto your ass.

-3: Danger at Sea-

Ziel sat, staring at the horizon and trying not to feel sick to his stomach. He felt the best when his feet were on solid ground, not on the pitching deck of a ship. Pitching more than usual, perhaps...

When the sea serpent appeared, Ziel sunk deeper into his spot and thought that explains all the rocking. He was tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of hurting. Tired of being tired. Someone else could deal with this. There were plenty of other fighters in Flotsam and they didn't need that and why was he suddenly feeling so wet?

Ziel realized, after the fact, that he had just instinctively leapt to his feet to bring his massive warhammer around in a brutal swing that had stopped a loop of sea serpent from knocking someone off the deck of the ship while also sending a spray of blood from ruptured scales in a circle around the point of impact.

Immediately, his muscles screamed in agony. Ether flowed through him to reinforce his body, but that also caused flows of agony, like his blood had been replaced with a sea of glass splinters. Despite the agony, Ziel felt good about it, for a moment.

Huh.

Apparently he wasn't QUITE ready to just roll over and let someone else die quite yet.

"Are you alright?"

-999: Wildcard-

Or make up your own prompt for a depressed, disabled monster hunter!

Good Stuff

[redprayer]

Rezo would like to say that he's normally quite observant, and that he only bumps into other people at the same rate that sighted people do. It's just that he's still getting used to being out and about again without chains and besides, Ziel was being unnaturally still and quiet.

All this is to excuse the simple fact that Rezo, while he was trying to look for herbs, has accidentally poked Ziel in the thigh with the end of the long cane he's using to navigate.

"Oh-"

After stifling his initial startle, Rezo's quick to offer an apologetic "Pardon me."

Snufkin | Moomins | AU

[wontreadthesigns]

Not Partying
[The only reason he's in Flotsam was because it was a convenient travel point to get a few things that he can't forage or make himself. There's clearly some kind of celebration... and he hates it, too loud, too crowded, hard to listen to anything. After finishing his drink at the bar, he pushes his way out - a distinctive small, green blob among a mess of tall-folks]

Ah... That was a little too much people for one night.

[Snufkin wandered towards the shore, picking up a score when jumping over some driftwood, and a few notes from the ever-present seabirds, and the crashing of the waves against the sand, there's the tempo he needed. With that, he removes a harmonica, playing something quietly moody with a thread of cautious hope for something exciting around the corner.]


Mushroom Hunting

[Snufkin sighs as he can see they're roping in the new people in foraging. Well, someone has to make sure things do not go too badly for them. As he meanders in the green, having slipped away before he officially got roped into helping, but he couldn't quite ignore things]

Careful with those, they'll be useful for what the Corsairs want, but you must not get them wet.


Sea Monsters ate my bait :(

[There's people battling bravely against monsters, there are those who are sheltering in place, and then there are those running around in a sheer panic.

Then there's this guy, strolling to one of the calmer spots in the water as far as one can feasibly get, and starts to bait the hook of a fishing pole... surely he isn't fishing now of all times, is he?]

Wildcard
[Anything else, Snufkin can be found essentially roaming anywhere. hit me up at RShini]

Not Partying

[tisfinished]

Senshi grunts agreement. It’s quite loud in there, overwhelmingly so. He’ll just appreciate the music.

Still, he does wordlessly offer Snufkin a mug of something and a whole lemon. Glass harping is thirsty work, and the scorby will pounce on anyone.

Donnie | Rise of the TMNT | AU

[purplexing]

Waterlogged
Donnie knows better than to join in on the heavy imbibing. He'd made the mistake of trying a drink once and it had not agreed with him in the least. He's been here long enough that he knows how it all goes, and while he's not particularly one for this sort of celebrating, or at least being in the middle of it, the turtle beastkin is fine with hanging about at its fringes or just outside of where the drunken revelry occurs.

Come bother him if you dare! He likes listening to the singing and the stories, the scattered bits of conversation, but he shies away from people when they get chummy, and he's learned that they get especially so when they're a few mugs of grog in. Togetherness, bleecch. That on top of grog-breath? Double blech!


The Good Stuff
This might not seem like a mission one would find the young engineer but when there are plants involved, Donnie is sure to take an interest. He's however a mixed bag of emotions as they set out, though he keeps most of it buried deep, surfacing only in the anxious tap of his feet or his fingers. He's always like this when they venture out to Innistis. It's a place he'd called home once.

The forests of Elysium are somewhat familiar territory for him. He remembers simpler days when he'd roam about exploring, collecting new and interesting plants to study. It's always been a hobby of his, outside of tinkering with machinery. He comes well-prepared too, especially given the specifics of the sorts of plants they're seeking. Maybe if you ask nicely, he might have a spare filtration mask for you.

"Ask before you touch anything," he'll warn whoever ends up stuck with him. Maybe he'll be a little more lenient if he thinks you're competent enough to know your way around the deceptive flora of the area. If not, don't be surprised if you find your way abruptly barred by the sudden flick and extension of his collapsible staff. He's not above smacking someone with it either so don't tempt him.


Edumacation
School may not be for everyone, but here's one teenager who absolutely loves it. In his opinion, it's by far the best thing about joining the Corsairs, and Donnie attends all his lessons with equal eagerness. He excels at arithmetic, and it's probably no surprise that he's picked up anything math and number-related faster than other subjects.

Reading and writing is what he works hardest to master. With free access to so many books and no one prepared to punish him for poking his nose where it doesn't belong, the only thing that frustrates him is that there are so many things to learn. Speaking a language is one thing, but understanding shapes made into those words and the sounds that go with them, how they change- there are so many little things! And that isn't even covering sentence structure and tenses! It also doesn't help that everything he'd like to read is very science-oriented.

One might come across him as he's picking his way through writing exercises or frowning over a history book, but he might welcome a distraction.

((OOC: Will match tag format/prefs!))

waterlogged

[simpletripletime]

While lurking on the outskirts of the celebration, Donnie might well run into another person eschewing the questionable delights of freedom. No 3 is tall and almost comically thin, the blue wings on their back and the large hat that casts their face into shadow making up a great deal of their height. They carry themselves with a stiff, almost petulant arrogance as they eye the carousing Corsairs with something between judgement and reluctant curiosity.

They aren't particularly friendly, though. As soon as Donnie gets too close (which isn't really that close), a glowing eye will turn on him.

"What is it." Their words are as stiff as their posture; clearly not someone used to conversation.

Maomao | Apothecary Diaries | AU

[2mao]

[ MAKING THE GOOD STUFF P.1 ]

Seeing somebody about to do something stupid in the distance, Maomao shouted. "Hey, you! Don't even think about touching that unless you want your skin to turn purple for a week! It's not even close to what we're looking for!"

Gods, how did she wind up looking after other people? This was the worst! Some sort of devious torture, perhaps? All she wanted was to be left alone with her plants and her herbs, making powders and medicines and occasional poisons in peace. (Well, really, all medicines were poisons, in the wrong instance or with the wrong dosage.)

"And don't even think about gathering anything not on the list! Not unless I tell you to!"

[ MAKING THE GOOD STUFF P.2 ]

She grumbled a bit more to herself as she made her way over to a dead tree. Then she quickly glanced around, a maniacal glint in her eye and deranged grin on her face, before she leaned in, pulling back a piece of broken tree to reveal a plethora of mushrooms growing in a hollowed interior. "Ahuehueh... yes, these are growing nicely!" She quickly began gathering a number of the larger ones, shoving them into her own shirt instead of the gathering baskets everybody was using.

...She stopped only when she noticed she was being observed. She slowly shoved the wood piece back in place, disguising the opening and hiding her trove of mushrooms from view. "H-Hey, don't go getting any ideas," she said. "This is all for... the cause..."


[ EDUCATION AS THE BOMBS FALL ]

Why was Maomao doing this?

Oh, right, she was being forced to.

She let out a sigh as she got into the classroom. What was she teaching today - sex positions, poisons, or medicine? Well, she saw some guys in the class, so probably not the first one. Medicines and poisons, then. Or just one of them. Eh, she'd make do. She knew enough, she could wing it to work for both.

"Let's start with an easy opener today," she said, a bored tone in her voice. "Not all poisons, once ingested, can be treated with vomiting. Can anybody give a possible example of why?"


[ FLOWERING BEAUTY? ]

Maomao was delivering another batch of medicines to the brothel, The Vale of Flowers - contraceptives, mostly, but also a number of other useful medicines and a smattering of the general medicine that any place would need. Almost all of the girls inside knew her, giving her hugs if they knew her long enough or otherwise exchanging pleasantries.

The problem came upon leaving. She'd assumed, now being empty-handed and obviously leaving, that there'd be even less reason for people to pay her any attention. Unfortunately, she didn't account for Big And Drunk Guy.

It started innocently enough - for a brothel. Asking how much a night with her would cost. However, the issue was that he wouldn't, couldn't, or was too drunk to accept that she didn't work as a courtesan inside. And he was only becoming louder and more belligerent as Maomao kept turning him down.

She needs a rescue, please.


[ WILDCARD ]

Maomao is a 17-year-old apothecary in Elysium's red light district, as well a poison taster for a noble girl who is staying in the area.

She works as a provider with the Crimson Corsairs, providing both medicines and (mostly non-lethal) poisons. She also sometimes doubles as an infiltrator, since she is attached to a noble girl (who is also an infiltrator for the Crimson Corsairs.)

Once in a while, she hits up the Vault to teach other people about what she knows or, even more occasionally, to learn something new herself. She generally never visits Flotsam.

Hit her up wherever you may find her.

Flowering

[cloakofafox]

[Well, thankfully he was already masked up when he saw the obvious situation of a man three sheets to the wind being too belligerent to accept the no. On the other hand, he has some rather uncomfortable shooting pains in his arm.

What wonderful timing. But he supposes given the man's state, he didn't need to be at his best, just quicker. From the shadows, the drunk would feel something sharp poking right at his back]

I believe the Lady told you to leave her alone, and I suggest you listen.

Marcille Donato | Dungeon Meshi | AU

[fuckthatdragon]

-1: Arrival/Liberation-

If she was going to help the Corsairs, healing the injured after a battle seemed like a pretty straight fowards way to do so. She wasn't a professional healer, but she knew a bit of healing magic and figured people would prefer a half trained medic to bleeding to death.

That was the theory, anyway.

In reality, as Marcille moved from patient to patient she found that people were starting to recoil from her offers of aid. Maybe it was because the people she HAD healed were now writhing on the ground in agony while groaning and shrieking about the pain. She figured it might be wise to reassure he next victim patient. Who happened to be you.

"Oh don't worry about them, it's just a bit of backlash to healing magic. It's natural for forcing the body back into it's natural shape to hurt a bit, just as it hurt to break it out of it's natural shape."

She held her hands out, an aura of friendly and entirely unintentional menace radiating outwards. "Anyway, where are you hurt? I'm not a healing specialist, but I know enough to get you back on your feet, at least! You still have both your feet, right?"

-2: Watterlogged Row-

Marcille was all about celebrating a victory with a good meal and maybe a glass of wine if she was feeling fancy.

Acknowledging that her current lodgings couldn't be expected to live up to her lodgings from when she lived in the empire, she was willing to put up with ale instead of wine, but she drew the line at seafood.

She poked at the lobster broiled in butter and garlic with a horrified look on her face. "There is NO way I'm eating this! Don't we have any real food?"

-3: Magic 101-

"Now, I don't know how magic worked where you came from, but you won't make much progress without understanding the fundamental principles of how it works here on Esthere. Don't worry, it's not too complicated..."

Some time later, Marcille stood in front of a blackboard that was covered in intricate formulae that used at least three different alphabets. She had spent the duration of her class blasting information like a firehose aimed at a teacup with little concern about if anyone was keeping up with her. She kept on assuring that everything would be clear in a moment.

Are you a genius at magical theory? If not, it probably is not clear. That didn't stop Marcille from underlining a particularly complex looking formula before turning to her class and beaming.

"-which is why as long as you keep Abenthy's theorem of sympathetic connection, all magical theory should be simple to work out with nothing but a bit of time and scratch paper! Any questions?"

-999: Wildcard!-

Or just make your own up! I'll roll with it!

2, these are real emergency rations

[tisfinished]

The dwarven man offering Marcelle a plate shrugs and shakes his head. “Nothing fresh, or that isn’t intended for emergencies. I doubt you’d prefer hardtack and dried suet soup.”

“I recommend squeezing out the lime over it -“ he demonstrates with his own lobster tail - “putting it on the roll and pouring the butter sauce over.”

Shionne Imeris | Tales of Arise | AU

[nevercravetherose]

A. Liberation
[The Crimson Corsairs have yet another new face on board their ship; in Shionne’s defense she was halfway through her own breakout from the Empire’s labs. She was just also determined to augment her wardrobe with better outfits. Meaning she was in the exact right (or wrong) place as the raid happened.

And it also means that now she’s aboard the vessel in a plain white dress, doing her best to keep her distance from everyone else and with plenty of scowls to spare if anyone gets too close. That scowl doesn’t last if she sees someone genuinely injured or looking like they’re about to keel over, though. Then she’ll cautiously approach the injured or starving person with either a bowl of porridge ready, or with a healing spell glowing on the tips of her fingers.]

“Let me take a look at that. You’ll waste the rescue effort if you keel over.”

B. Fashion Row
[Shionne has her own way of celebrating. And that isn’t drinking, but rather staking her claim on some raid supplies, and finally upgrading her clothing into something more suitable. Maybe a bit the edges, but still of finer style and material. And anything is better than that sterile clothing from before.

As for any calls for drinks? She has her own way of declining them:]

“I don’t want any grog. Or booze, or whatever you call it. Not interested in that for a celebration. I just want copies of this outfit in red and… What other colors would you choose?”

C. Class Time
“Curative magics, fire… And shooting things.”

[During her trip to the Vault, Shionne mostly seems to be there to record her skills. Though she is also more than ready to demonstrate those same skills as needed; she can be found at whatever passes for a training range, lining up shots and showing how to keep one’s aim steady.

Alternately, she’s also ready to fill out some records on how magical healing works for her.

The one thing she’s adamant about however, is that NO ONE touches her. That’s one thing she wants to avoid studying, and any suggestions about contact make her tense.

In fact, towards the end of her stay, she’s looking more and more jumpy and liable to flinch away from people. Seems like she doesn’t always mix with research.]

D. Danger At Sea
[Fire and sea serpents don’t mix, as it turns out. Whether that is conjured magical fire, or magitek gunfire. Shionne is busy dealing out both, and giving the sea monster plenty of grief for intruding. She tries to stay at range as much as she can, and well away from other people.

But if she sees anyone taking on injuries, she’s also ready to trade out her attacks for healing.

And… Then there’s also the fact that her gunshots might skirt by people a little too close for comfort.]

“Head down!”

[Is the best warning she can give, before another shot just skims past combatants and thuds into the serpent’s side. Shionne risks a step to whoever she had to shoot past.]

“Not bleeding? Looks like my aim is still working fine.”

((ooc: will match tagging styles, also game for any wild card shenanigans!))

Danger At Sea

[knowhyoucry]

The Terminator hears the call out, and quickly steps to one side as Shionne's shot goes by, embedding itself into the serpent. It turns back as she steps towards it. It does not react to how close the bullet was to where it was standing before it moved away.

"I have taken no damage." It replies, looking at Shionne, then at her weapon. "But I am not armed. Do you have a sidearm?" A gun would complement its abilities, if she has one to spare.

Stone of Indigo Cloud | Books of the Raksura | OU but been here a while

[scarsolderthanyou]

I. Liberation

Stone is the transportation today. Or, well, one of the transportations. The great black winged creature alights on the slavers' den and drops two or three people from his back and arms to start rushing through the cells breaking people out. He stays up top, flaring his wings and making as big a target of himself as possible, taking full advantage of the psychic disturbance of his great age that makes him difficult to look at directly and even more difficult to hit at range.

He happily swats guards with his tail, swipes them with his claws, and stomps them if they get too close. He's been in this world long enough that he's perhaps half his usual size, almost fifteen feet tall at his shoulder when he's crouched on all fours, so he's a lot of monster to deal with.

Hopefully the rescuers warned the newly liberated slaves what is waiting for them outside, however, because as soon as they start fleeing outside, he snatches them up and launches into the air, two at a time. He can't speak in this form, so good luck getting an explanation if nobody said anything about him first.


II. Waterlogged Row

Stone sits outside one of the rowdy houses, hissing to himself as he tends various scratches he sustained while on the raid. Alcohol does nothing for him, and the crowded ale houses just tempt his prey reflexes, so he avoids going in, but he's listening for potential trouble he might need to break up anyway from the outside.

Besides, he does have a lot of cuts to dab ointment on and cover in plasters, both from enemy guards and from some friendly fire startled by being scooped up and flown away by what most people would call a dragon. Back in his groundling form, looking mostly human except for his sharp teeth, hard semi-clawed feet, and completely gray skin, the damage to wings, arms, and legs have translated to many smaller rents in his skin.

"I wouldn't go in there," he warns a newcomer, or even a potential friend. "They're going to wind up starting a bar fight in a few minutes, I'm thinking."


III. Making The Good Stuff

Stone is not a herbologist. However, he does have an incredibly keen sense of smell, and once he's got the scent of the things he needs to find, he can track them unerringly. Even better, he's immune to most drugs, so he's not in as much danger as everyone else. A couple plants can affect him, but they just knock him out and make him unable to shift, so he's been good at learning where to spot them and avoid them.

Anyone who got a lift with him to the forest will find him impatient with lollygagging and quick to swat the back of his charge's heads, though gently. "Keep your eyes in your head, fledgling," he warns. "And your nose, too. That flower you almost walked right up to would have you seeing monsters in every shadow."


IV. Danger At Sea

Oh, this is fun. Stone circles above the sea serpent, waiting for pauses in the magical and cannonball barrages to dive down and rake his claws and sharply spaded tail along the creature's head and fins. He's trying to blind the thing, and also intimidate it. It's bigger than he is, but it probably also didn't expect flying resistance, and unlike the giant sea monsters in his own world, this one doesn't have grasping arms.

He also readily plucks people out of the water if they fall in, setting them safely on floating platforms and boats.

He figures it's just as well he's helping out, because he's half-sure the scent of another predator is what brought the sea serpent here to begin with. Most predators avoid him, but some seem to think he's a challenge to their territory... oops?

II

[purplexing]

"Wasn't thinking about it," the young turtlekin replies, even as he casts an uncertain look towards the noise. He's never really been fond of that much noise to begin with, it's why he's always got his earmuffs handy, built into the goggles he seems never to be without.

His attention shifts back towards the dragon man, much more approachable in this form, and therefore more of a curiosity than something scary. "Need help there?" he asks, head tilting as he takes in what Stone is doing, and he drifts a little closer, a hand already digging into one of his belt pouches for a roll of bandaging. He's never gone on any of the liberation missions so far. "Was there a lot of opposition?"

RPK-16 | Girls Frontline | OU

[transrobotism]

<sub>[ Seven months, five days, thirteen hours into her captivity at the hands of the empire.
It's highly likely DEFY has been provided with a fresh mainframe to house whenever had been the most recent backup of her neural cloud by now. If she could leave, stand up and toss aside all obstacles between her and "home" like garbage,
she will just be a redundant, out of date copy, a reminder to both standing iterations how cheap her existence is.

So,
There's no point in seeking home. Functionally, the same things will happen to her there, whether 'she' is there or not. At first RPK is unbothered. The bars of this cage are not bars; they are merely vertical bits of scrap she can step through at any time, like the waving blades of grass. She makes no motions toward escape in that early stage; it's much easier to weather endless indignities and take her time puzzling through the unfamiliar language and concepts. It is not unlike when she was first activated and cleared for duty. There is still death, and there is still pain.

Until comes the day she does try to leave, and fails. The long sawing blades of grass are a cage after all. A vital spark in her demeanor banks down into a hidden coal.

A self-annihilating routine of servitude settles over her like a shroud, and except when alone, she often habitually takes to turning off her emotion module. The purpose of the emotion module is to make the bitter pill of a highly humanoid robot easier to swallow, after all. Denying that convenience is an insipid act of defiance that helps keep her functional, as her programming struggles to adapt to being cut and paste somewhere she was never meant to be. Days to weeks to months pile up. How does one defy a world they barely understand? Are humans of a different world accepted as 'humans,' for the purposes of her programming, or should they be regarded as a whole other beast...? In a world without Paradeus, but with Ether, would it ever be possible to achieve her most heartfelt goal? RPK mulls every day on this curling, flowering vine of questions, relives crisp visions of each member of DEFY's faces whenever she enters sleep mode, toils, and endures.

...When the Corsairs come, one servant stands curiously still, making no move to escape, nor to avoid the chaos and bustle of the rescue operation. It is as if she has no feeling of connection at all to the events around her,
until someone happens to say to her directly, perhaps not in so many words, but in the spirit of it, surely,
hey, you're free! You don't have to stay here anymore!
It was like a spell broke, and she joined the evacuation. One more desperate salmon swimming upriver amid the throng.


...
Did you say those words to her? Did you see the one who did? Either way, the chaos has settled down, the after-party's started, and a clearly recently-freed woman with a disarmingly friendly smile and a preternatural stillness to her is asking around. As for the why... ]</sub>

...Ah, I just wanted to tell them thank you, personally! It may sound silly, but I would have had a lot of difficulty if they hadn't happened to tell me those words...

[fray]

[ Id has known servitude well before this, but his had been conditioned and willing. He'd bent everything to serve the cause of someone he'd long believed his savior, only to find that all that he had fought for was a pretty little lie. Something to convince him to willfully fight, break, destroy. Were it not for the intervention of certain others, were it not for a particular voice that urged him to listen to his heart, he may not have escaped the crushing sense of betrayal and unmoored loss left in the wake of all of that.

He'd taken note of this girl, from time to time. Her emotions seem as subdued as his own, perhaps even more so. It's a level of control few ever achieve — so he thinks, having only superficial observation to go by. In his experience, it's simplest to tamp down on what one can't use to press on with, to set aside emotions and soldier on as best one can. In her case, there's a certain uncanny quality to it. Perhaps it's the stillness, or something Id can't properly define.

Whatever it is, he thinks he understands the way she only seems to animate after someone declares her freedom to her. In a way, Lyria had done much the same for him. By now, it feels so very long ago. ]

It didn't feel real at first, did it?

[ He offers this, by way of response, his own low voice just this side of neutral. ]

Akizetesche | Corru Observer | AU

[akizetesche]

[ (you dont have to use the prompt formatting this is just a me thing) ]

1. !!__LIBERATION__!!

[ Akizet wanders among the new arrivals, making sure nobody is left out or left behind in the rush of bodies. She carries a bundle of cloaks and blankets in her arms. When she finds people who seem isolated or separated from the crowd, she stops and offers them a covering. ]

Here, bright cousin. Take this, for warmth. [ For the obesk, in their strange isolated tunnels and isles, humans and all their kindred are bright cousins. Perhaps those who have the features of 'animals' are even closer - they are akin to the receptors of the obesk. ] Do you need food? Or drink? I will fetch it.

[ Akizet, despite her friendly manner, is still an odd sight; she is clad in robes that still do not conceal her conspicuous lack of a neck, or the smoothness of her face where a mouth would normally be on a human's face. And there are the obvious receptors, of course, curled tightly against the sides of her head like horns...but, well, her hair seems to behave normally, at least.

Naturally, she sees nothing odd about her own appearance and so does not see fit to offer any explanation for this. ]

2. !!__VAULT__!!

[ Here, Akizet is in her element: explaining things. Well, explaining certain things, anyway. She chatters amiably about advances in intercepting and decoding the Empire's signals, sending their own messages without being compromised, the virtues of citrus fruit (for some reason), and very rarely about her own kind, the obesk. Of what she is now doing here, given that the obesk are a reclusive sort who went into hiding after the Empire's attempts to destroy them, she says nothing at all. ]

3. !!__AT SEA__!!

[ Akizet is no stranger to violence; her days as a scout and runner serve her well in this regard, even in a body that responds to her in ways she is not entirely used to yet.

Still, hesitation won't get any of them far. The serpent thrashes wildly, its movements knocking people off their feet or off the decks of the ships; she refuses to man the cannons and dives into the fray fearlessly. She wields her shifting fingers as weapons, using them to cling stubbornly to the monster's flesh or to inflict deep wounds on it. Several times, she's sent flying from her efforts - but each time, she charges back in again with a frustrated cry. ]

v4HyE@L$$!

[ If you're unlucky enough to be knocked into the water, Akizet will dive fearlessly after you and pull you back up to safety. She moves through the water with more power than grace, making for a slightly rocky ascension as she pulls you with her up to the surface and air. ]

Do not fear! [ Her voice is clear and reassuring, despite the lack of a mouth. ] I have you! It will not eat you.

4. !!__WILDCARD__!!

[ Anything else! ]

!!__VAULT__!!

[transrobotism]

<sub>[ Long-distance communications, how she's missed you! RPK, still looking a bit scuffed around the edges after all of the Everything, lights up and give her rapt attention to the talk of ciphers and signals -- though when the topic lands in the literal lemons, she bides in silence, trying to make the mental jump without asking how to make the mental jump... Though her initial enthusiasm gets a bit of a drizzle on it.

She comes up with something. ]</sub>

Citrus fruit...? I think you can make them into crude batteries in an emergency, can't you? I guess... they can be used to enable covert communication if you use them that way...?

Senshi | Dungeon Meshi | AU

[tisfinished]

1: Arrival: Congee with Smoked Cod

The newcomers need good, nutritious food: but they also need to reacclimate from inadequate and underseasoned meals of hardtack, bacon rinds, and no fruit or vegetables to speak of.

Senshi is ladling hot rice porridge with fish out as that way to ease newcomers back into eating properly. It’s warm and filling and while deliberately bland has some actual salt and citrus and flavor, as well as half an egg and a scattering of chives in each bowl. He serves them with savory sticks of fried dough.

When he can, he tries to serve personally, and to reassure folks:

“Eat up, and don’t be shy if you need seconds.”

He’ll be damned if he can’t provide for the new folks.

2: Danger At Sea: Grilled Fillet of Sea Serpent

Senshi rushes to the defense of the team, with shield and axe in hand, and let no one say he fights without courage or skill. He knows where to hit the beast should the chance present itself, and protects his allies when biding time.

It’s after the beast is felled that Senshi gets weird.

Out comes his chef’s knife. After hacking through the thick scales of the slain serpent, he’s able to peel off some hide and reveal deep red fish-flesh beneath. He takes in the sight and considers.

Get me some salt from the hold. Empty barrels or other wood we can use for smoking, as well. Can’t waste this windfall!

He sounds delighted at the prospect of cooking this critter.

2!

[transrobotism]

He's gonna eat it.....?
thinking about how she was peppering that big sea serpent with bullets just a few seconds ago. literally rotates a 3d snake model in her head putting targeting reticles on each and every spot she hit the mark on it.

thinks about how she doesn't know what material they make their bullets out of here, and that she has to give this firearm back because it was emergency loan on account of Giant Sea Snake, so she can't try and puzzle over it for too long to figure it out




well.
a little lead builds character, surely.

"Salt, scrap wood or barrels. On it."

She zips off! she's new, so she is not entirely timely about finding her way, but she shows back up some time later hefting a surprising amount of stuff without trouble, various broken bits of wood crammed into a barrel and a sack of salt under an arm.

celes chere | final fantasy 6 | AU

[generaltraitor]

(Can switch to prose/not-smalltext as needed!)

I. WALLFLOWER

[ Here, at the post-rescue celebration. Even back in her soldier days, she hadn't been exactly the life of the party. In the present day, she's sitting alone in a (quiet...ish) alcove, a little away from the carousing and off-key singing; her chin propped on one hand and seemingly just staring off into space. ]

[ Celes hasn't been with the Corsairs that long, herself -- this raid had been the first real mission she'd participated in. Logically, she knew it was for her own sake (she'd still been recuperating from injuries, when she'd joined) but privately, she can't shake off the feeling of suspicion, like she's being scrutinized as if she's still an empire loyalist. She had to admit the Crimson Corsairs ran like a well-oiled (if chaotic) machine with how they pulled the raid off; a far cry from the disorganized rabblerousers that imperial propaganda tried to paint them as. ]

[ If approached, Celes responds amiably enough: ] I've had enough, it's fine. [ With a small gesture at a half-full tankard of cider (which kind of indicates she's fibbing about having drunk too much, but shhh). ]

[ To a new arrival, you might get a distantly-polite: ] How are you settling in?

[ Otherwise, any friendly or even neutral overtures will net you a quizzical look from her, as well as a curt: ] ... Why are you talking to me?

II. let's go in the garden, you'll find something waiting, a bunch of pirates tripping balls

[ A: ]
[ The researcher who'd raised her had cultivated plants in his laboratory -- mostly specimens for their medicinal/chemical properties, but a few flowers too. She'd been more interested in the flowers as a little girl, but she'd learned about the other plants just because Cid was interested in them. When they'd deserted the army together, he'd wanted to start a garden again, but. Well. Anyway. ]

[ The point is, Celes isn't 100% familiar with the horticulture on Elysium, but she can make a semi-educated guess. Actually, one might find her reading the "shopping list" of plants the corsairs are looking for, glancing from the list to the piles of baskets being handed out to all the gatherers, with a bemused expression on her face. ]

...do they ever want these guards to wake up?

[ B: ]
[ Alternatively, if you've been FLAGRANTLY and IRRESPONSIBLY snacking on leaves, and are hallucinating/Very Ill Indeed/on another astral dimension/otherwise incapacitated, expect Celes to come up, nudging you with the toe of her boot: ]

Hi. You alive down there?

[ If she doesn't get a response in time -- or a coherent enough one -- she's just gonna. Unceremoniously sling the person bodily over a shoulder (if they're of small-to-medium build; for larger builds she'll just drag them by the ankle). And start marching to the nearest river, in spite of any protests. ]

[ Get in the drunk tank, punk. ]

III. WILDCARD

[ ┐(￣ヘ￣)┌ ]

Re: celes chere | final fantasy 6 | AU

[transrobotism]

[ fantastic news: did you know androids can get crunk?*

_{*are programmed to simulate the random and erratic behaviors/cognition associated with inebriation and or tripping balls, when their biofuel engine detects certain chemical compounds present within an ingested substance}

Anyway, the young lady Celes is dragging along through the grass, who is significantly more heavy than she looks, giggles like a loon as they go. ]

Nope, I'm not alive down... over...back there. But maybe I'll be alive over there. The future is just so full of paws, pause...

[ She gives up on that word. Seemingly. Wait for it...]



...Beetle tease.

[ quietly, because they are still in the way to the river dunk, ]
_Wheeee~...

[fish4science]

-Liberation-
Everyone has their role to play in this operation-Angelika's is very important. She's got to keep a count of everyone and everything being loaded, and her bright green eyes dart back and forth across the crowd of liberated Servants, Corsairs, cargo, and even animals. Her pen makes flicking motions on a sheet of paper she's hardly even glancing at, and she's also watchful for any guards or Imperial response approaching. Occasionally she will shout down to someone, often by name, asking what they are carrying, or dragging aboard a ship, but by and large, she's scanning, watching, absorbing the flow of people and goods.

If anyone asks, she's ready to report on her count as well. "We have two-hundred and thirty-eight people who have just been liberated, as well as Four hundred fifty seven bolts of sailcloth, fifty four bolts of broadcloth, and nine bolts of silk brocade. There's about a hundred and nine more people still on the docks however, and it looks like the heavy equipment is just arriving."

-Waterlogged Row-

The good stuff in in Elysium, but we get the grog. Its cheap, its watered down, it still tastes like piss and turpentine. Our darling sweet little angel might have heaved to at the bar and purchased a large flagon for the celebrations, but now she's looking a bit distraught and distant in the corner as she tries to actually drink the thing. It seems she's both overestimated her ability to drink-and her ability to bury her own opinions and put forward a pleasant face at all times.

-The Vault-
"Oh, Hello! Can I help you find anything?" If you've wandered into the Library, Angelika is there-practically teleporting to your side from amongst the stacks to interrogate you about what you want. Cheerful, polite, and very much smiling, but she wants to get you in and out quickly so she can resume her studies here soon.

On the flipside though, if you are bringing new information into her library (who died and gave it to her?) then she will roll out the proverbial red carpet for you. Nothing but the best for you, oh fellow scholar!

Liberation

[nevercravetherose]

"...Ten bolts of silk brocade."

Shionne sounds more than a little begrudging as she drops a bundle of fine pale fabric onto the pile. This said, she's careful with the cloth and making sure it doesn't get scuffed up or dirty from the floors.

"Was halfway through grabbing this when I stumbled across your people... And if you have the means of turning this stuff into decent dresses, then I guess I'm with you for now."

Well, that's part of the story at least. And mostly truthful.

Saga "Fuyumura" Faraday | Sanda | AU

[santabomber]

1. i think it's time we blow this scene (Liberation)
[Sometimes, rescue missions necessitate finesse, stealth, and a dash of swashbuckling flair.

Other times, like now, you just need a very big hole in a wall as soon as possible, and that's what Fuyumura is here to provide.

Smoke fills the area after tremor-inducing boom (although one that's carefully calculated to leave a hole instead of blowing the entire thing apart), leaving Fuyumura a lanky, shadowy silhouette as she reaches for the nearest hand and says,] Move, [before starting a full-tilt sprint.

Is she motivating another Crimson Corsair operative? Is she yanking a prisoner out of their cell? That's up to you!]

2. get everybody and the stuff together (Making the Good Stuff)
[Fuyumura has done extensive research on the herbology of the forests of Elysium, as is her forte. She can identify every ground-growing hallucinogen by sight. There's no way she'll join the pack of idiot newbies stumbling around, totally lost in the sauce.

Then she wanders under a tree similar to a cherry blossom, stares at it wistfully for a few moments... and is whammied by a facefull of hallucination-inducing pollen.]

Anna...? [Fuyumura's eyes tear up, but it's not an allergic reaction.] Anna!

[Heedless of anything else around her, Fuyumura immediately sprints toward the edge of a cliff.]

3. okay, 3, 2, 1, let's jam (Education as the Bombs Fall)
[In the great libraries of the Vault, there's a roaring, rumbling series of thumps, similar to an avalanche.

If one were to investigate the source of the ruckus, they'd find a single, spindly arm reaching out of a mound of books, burying what's probably a human body but considering the proportions could be some bizarre variety of stickbug instead.]

2

[purplexing]

[Just a ways off, Donnie rises from plugging a vial up with another specimen. It's not necessarily on their figurative grocery list but who is he to pass up opportunity? He misses his garden so it's no surprise he's been working at slowly establishing a small one back at the Vault.

The shout jolts him to attention, and as he tucks the vial away he looks around, catching the blur of movement between the underbrush. The voice is slightly familiar, but why anyone could be racing in that direction is anyone's guess, unless whoever they were calling had fallen..?

The turtlekin hurries, fleet on his feet as he doesn't take too long to catch up with the other. Wait, he knows her, or at least he's seen her about the Vault. The expression on her face isn't very promising, nor the fact that she's heading straight for the edge of a cliff.]

Hey!

[She's still a good several meters away from him and even coming up parallel to her, Donnie can't guarantee reaching her in time if he tried to jump. So instead he grabs a cylinder from his side, a tap extending it into a full-length staff, another tap priming the tip in a clawed point. No he's not harpooning her but he is shooting a grapple to try snagging her feet if not her pack before she can reach the edge.]

Son Gohan | Dragon Ball Z | OU

[minorinasskicking]

-ARRIVAL-

[Gohan is one of the lucky exceptions that manages to be summoned outside the facility where otherworlders are captured, and ends up in a beautiful wooded area outside one of the Empire's cities. Perhaps due to his affinity with nature. Who knows? But the important thing is that no matter where he looks, any people who catch sight of him turn hostile immediately. Gohan tries to communicate that he means no harm, but the language barrier and the prevailing attitude toward otherworlders mean that his efforts are all in vain. Instead, he backs off, eluding capture (fortunately, flight makes that very easy) and tries his luck elsewhere.

It isn't until night when Gohan finds favorable results. He's awoken by the sounds of the raid, and when he gets close, he sees the Corsairs fighting knights like the ones he had escaped from, all while breaking the chains on other people. As Gohan is not one to ever pass up an opportunity to help people in danger, he immediately joins the fray by attacking a knight and uses hand and body signals to convey to the nearest Corsair that he's a friendly.

After the fighting, he follows the Corsairs back to Flotsam, where he can be found wolfing down as much food as he's allowed in the mess hall. Despite how fast he's eating the food, he does so in a perfectly mannerly fashion.

Feel free to run into him at any point during this.]

-EDUCATION AS THE BOMBS FALL-

[As soon as Gohan arrives in the Vault, he makes a beeline straight for the library, and finds immediate delight just from looking at the sheer number of books there. Right now, he can't read any of them yet, but all in due time. This is someone who aced all of his high school entrance exams, including the ones for literature and composition, after all. Thus, he spends a good while simply walking around the library, looking at all of the books they have in awe.

Later, though, Gohan finds an empty area near the academy, where he begins working on warm-ups. Now that he's stuck in this world and part of a group of rebels, he can't afford to neglect his martial arts training any longer. At the moment, he has nobody to spar with, so he's using a mix of image training and form training to at least make sure his combat instincts and muscle memory is still sharp (and if it isn't, then to shake the rust off).

A sparring partner would definitely be welcome, though.]

-DANGER AT SEA-

[Gohan is one of the first combatants to jump through the portal back to Flotsam the moment he hears about a giant sea monster attacking the fleet. As soon as he sees it, he flies straight at it to take his crack at the kraken (heh). He's not willing to mess around, either -- once he's within range, he undergoes a transformation that amplifies his power significantly. His body itself doesn't change, but his hair changes color from black to a bright gold, and his eyes change from black to green. The transformation also summons a gold aura of energy that surrounds him.

Gohan knows that the power scaling in this world is different from what he's used to on Earth, and his knows his strength has changed accordingly. Going Super Saiyan should help him figure out where he stands in the pecking order now, without spending all of his strength right out of the gate.]

I'll go after its head and draw its attention! You keep pounding it while I keep it busy!

-WILDCARD-

[If none of the above prompts appeal to you, feel free to come up with your own! If you want to plot, you can PM this journal.]

Education

[curebootleg]

[ Learning about the Corsair principles has given Preme a lot to chew on, and that's as good a time as any to wander aimlessly throughout the Vault. When she comes across Gohan, she stops, watching with mild curiosity.

This one's a warrior, clearly, but different from the ones she's familiar with. Maybe he's closer to the opponents she faced on other worlds. The concept of martial arts was far from unknown to her, but she'd never felt the need to actually learn them.

She makes no attempt to start a conversation, just leaning against a wall and watching him go through his practice. ]

Jade "the Prophetess" | Enderal: Forgotten Stories | OU.

[dreamflowers]

i. liberation

[Fate, if Jade believed in such things, had the cruelest sense of humor, if recent developments were to tell her anything. The irony that she had fled her home country in an attempt to evade the tides of a three-decade-long civil war which tore it apart and the shackles of slavery once again, only to end up in chains anyways is not lost on her.

[She could almost laugh, if the makeshift "chains" didn't make her feel weak; the devices implemented on her having cut her off from the Sea of Eventualities that binds her to her newfound magic. And though said magic was still fairly new to her, Jade had grown used enough to it that its absence was definitely felt during that long period she had spent laboring away.

[And yet she was never quite... there. It was more than just fatigue from the physical exhaustion; her mind was a haze...

[Up until the very moment that those chains were released again, and she was free.

[Still too weak to fully reach out to her magic once again, the "Prophetess" simply goes through the motions. Get new clothes, cast shady glances at her supposed saviors, and scrutinizing the food that's been so generously prepared for them.]

No... No thank you. I'm not hungry, really. Maybe give it to someone who needs it.

[Even though her turning stomach betrays her dismissive comment, the irony of the towering but gaunt half-Aeterna woman saying such a thing should also not be lost on anyone she tries to pass the offered meal off to. She does need it, much like how she could use a warm bath and an Apothacarius for the cuts and bruises on her scarred body. But as far as dire circumstances go, the latter is probably of least concern.]

ii. waterlogged

[Far be it from Jade to pass up on a chance to get drunk and merry now that she's had time to process everything. It's not the best bottle she's ever had the chance to get shitfaced on, but far from the worst.

[And though she's not quite fully sloshed, she puts on her best "drunk chick" act when she plops her ass down in a seat -- any seat -- resting her elbow over the table and leaning on.]

'Eyyy, that's a nice face ya got there. S'very... Well. It's certainly a face, yeah?

[Is that your drink you've been working on? Not anymore. She's taking it and attempting to finish the damn tankard.

[Otherwise, she is shamelessly making an ass out of herself, making flirty comments with random passersby, and occasionally being met with positive results. She'd spent enough time in captivity that she'd earned a right to cut loose, wouldn't you agree?]

iii. wildcard

[ooc: Choose your own adventure! Feel free to PM me or hit me up on plurk or whathaveyou if there's anything else you'd rather do instead of these things.]

II

[fray]

[ No sooner had one woman pressed the tankard into his hands than another, far taller one had sidled up to claim it herself. Id certainly does have a face, though he knows from no small amount of commentary from the Grandcypher's crew that it isn't a friendly one. That evidently has not stopped the tankard bandit looming over him now, and Id isn't about to fight her for something he didn't want in the first place.

He doesn't know that he's entirely comfortable with letting his guard down after his experiences thus far, so he won't. Getting himself drunk would only dull his vigilant edge. Relax that iron rod he's got for a spine. He won't be doing that. ]

Help yourself.

[ Id says, as though the tankard hasn't already changed hands. ]

I'm still waiting to hear what they want before I get comfortable.

ken amada | persona 3 | au

[stophamatime]

arrival: feeding (and caffeinating) the newbies
[ There’s plenty of food to go around, of course, and Ken’s helped with that in whatever capacity he’s asked — but he’s got a Specialty, too, and he’s here to ply his trade.

Which is why you or your table might be approached by a boy of about eleven with a pot of coffee in one hand and a couple of empty mugs in his other arm. ]

It’s a little weaker than I’d normally make it, but...well, there’s a lot of you! Sorry about that.

[ He’s not saying the other part out loud — the part where anyone who’s been on the prisoner’s diet for too long might not be ready for anything too strong, lest they skip right past “a warm sense of comfort” and straight to “bouncing off the walls.” He hates having his own moments of weakness pointed out, so he’s certainly not about to kick anyone else when they’re down.

Unless they’re a jerk, anyway. ]


danger at sea: pretty decent stats for the joke weapon?
[ There’s just about always a deck that needs swabbing, and Ken’s hard at work when the alarm bell starts ringing. He has about enough time to look up and frown before the first tentacle hits the deck with a wet, meaty slap.

He doesn’t think twice, deftly flipping the mop in his hands and jumping forward with a yell. ]

HiiiiiiiYAH!

[ His mop handle stab was more effective than he expected it to be. Maybe a little too effective, all things considered; the tentacle thrashes wildly, wrenching the mop from his hands and throwing him backwards to land on his butt. ]

Ow — I hope you get splinters!



wildcard: choose your own adventure
[ Presently, Ken’s usually found around Flotsam, but the Vault isn’t out of the question. He’s young enough not to have a specialty to speak of or much sway, but he’s just about always a willing set of hands with a good attitude and a willingness to learn more. Rope him into something? Bother him from whatever someone else roped him into?

Or maybe just be a bad influence. He may be keeping it on the downlow, but he’s always here to learn more about How To Do A Murder. ]

danger at sea

[fray]

[ The sea is a strange and unfamiliar phenomenon. It's far more vast than on any on Zegagrande's islands. Sailing the skies is a different experience than lurching on the water, and Id is still finding his sure footing on one doesn't quite translate to the other.

It doesn't stop his quick strides to help that boy fend off one of the monster's offending limbs, practically barreling across the deck. He hefts the largest sword he can find up high and brings it down full force in an attempt to cleave the tentacle clean off—

Except it bounces right off, instead.

Id looks from the unharmed appendage to the sword in his hands, mystified. There follows an awkward, pointed silence in which nothing happens, before the limb retreats back into the water as though the monster has taken pity on him. ]

...Not exactly what I was going for, but I guess I'll take it.

Yaoyorozu Momo (AU) | My Hero Academia

[creativiti]

Liberation

It's a privilege to be part of any strike team sent to liberate one of the Empire's work camps. Being able to help people suffering under the Emperor's bootheel, bringing them hope and comfort, and dealing a blow to Imperial production, why, it's the very reason Myria ("Momo" to practically everyone outside of her closest friends and family) signed up for the experiment that gave her her creation ability.

Though she often thinks it's after the camp has been hit and the escape ships are well away, that the real work begins. As the former prisoners are let up abovedecks into the fresh morning air, Momo is among those who greet them, with a warm smile and whatever provisions she can provide.

"Easy, easy. You're safe now. Here take my hand, let me help you up. I'm Momo, of the Crimson Corsairs. You're among friends now."

The Good Stuff

Momo likes to make notes; it's why she tends to keep at least one workbook close to hand, with whatever reference material she has that's relevant to the mission at hand bookmarked. Naturally, she's copied and studied extensive notes about the types of herbs that will be required for the upcoming mission. She stayed up late to make entirely sure her notes were in order, since it's important they don't mess it up. As an established Corsair and experimental soldier, she's assigned some new recruits to guide on the mission. It's a small taste of leadership, and she tries to keep the butterflies in her stomach down. She can do this.

At least Momo hopes she can.

"Wait, wait, hang on." She calls out as she approaches, pulling her journal out, and opening it to the bookmarked page. "I'm not sure that's what we're looking for. Let me check." She glances at the growth of mushrooms, wide caps with red spots on them. "Wide cap, red spots...or was it peaked cap and solid red?" She took care to sketch the mushrooms in question, believing visual confirmation was more important than a text description, but her notes are...a bit more confused than she remembered.

"Was it safe to handle, or is the hallucinogen absorbed through the skin...I...thought I had that down somewhere." She glances up at you, and tries to keep her expression even. "Just, ah...a moment. I want to make sure we get this right."

Why didn't she take more notes? She's got the sketches, but now she can't remember which one was the correct one. And even if she's right, the harvesting methods are mixed up...the butterflies are flapping harder now, but she's fighting to push them down and remain calm. She can't screw this up!

Unfortunately, that determination isn't helping her to actually make a decision.

Education Momo

The Vault has been home to Momo as long as she can remember; her family helped finance its construction back in the day, after all, and what remains of House Unzählig continues to support it however they can. Despite the constant threat of bombing by the Empire, it's never been anything else but home to her, and she knows its halls like the back of her hand. So naturally, she takes it upon herself to help guide new recruits.

"The Vault may not be quite as lively as Flotsom or Elysium, but all of the Corsairs' most cutting-edge research and development is done here. We provide the technical and educational know-how that help keeps our resistance going, and we're always looking for new recruits that share our passion for knowledge. I hope you'll consider making the Vault your primary assignment in the Crimson Corsairs, but in the meantime, I'd be happy to show you around. Our training facilities and library are second to none, and unlike the Empire, you won't find any material censored or forbidden on our shelves. Do you have a preference to which you'd like to see first?"

[sapphirecontess]

Sorry Momo, but today Musse was tagging along with her class. And that means no peace.

"I think you should show off the library. There are so many fascinating volumes, wouldn't you agree Lady Unzählig?"

The sly quirk of her eyebrow speaks volumes as to which interesting books she's referring to.

Musse Egret | Trails of Cold Steel | AU

[sapphirecontess]

LIBERATION

[While Musse was not able to take part in the strike force due to her status as an Imperial Noble, she did manage to slip away to assist with their integration. A fair hand in the kitchen herself, Musse helped prepare food and was now aiding it in serving it, generally being on good behavior although she will openly admire any particularly lovely specimens who might be arriving in the mess hall.]

My my. Well, we'll have to get a proper meal in you. You've been through a lot, and it's important that you regain your strength~

EDUCATION

[Given her status, Musse has been tapped to teach etiquette lessons - vital for infiltrators and those who might work at Elysium. Despite her usual carefree demeanor, she's taking this surprisingly seriously]

Courtly manners are of paramount importance when dealing with nobility. If a noble ever comes to believe that a commoner is treating them with disrespect, they can have that person killed in an instant. What you learn today is not a guarantee, but it may save your life. You would do well to pay attention.

DANGER AT SEA

[The giant sea monster is intimidating to be sure. As Corsairs enter the fray, they might witness an icy blue bird cutting through the air, leaving a trail of ice behind as it punches through the serpent. From the rear, Musse is holding a rifle, her stance seemingly relaxed but, to a trained observer, highly competent.]

What an impressive snake! It seems almost a shame to slay it~

Education

[achelord]

I'm not-

["I'm not actually a newbie." he tried to say, but despite his large stature, Ziel was someone easy to talk over, and before he knew it he had a bowl of soup in front of him. He had to admit he probably looked the part, with his constantly exhausted demeanor and dusty, ragged clothes.

Fuck it. Dinner is dinner.]

...Thank you.

Deedee Yeowoo || The Wonders of Mundus

[lightnovelexperiences]

1: Liberation
The tall - and now lanky from malnutrition - foxkin laborer takes a moment to understand what was happening, shrinking away from her saviors at first. But once they demonstrate their best intentions by removing the heavy collar of metal and stone around her neck, she stiffens up, draws herself to her full height, and breathes deep.

Anyone who recognizes English recognizes her next words.

Gale Force!

She throws her cupped hands at the thing and a blast of pressurized air smashes into the manasink collar, shattering it to uselessness. The freed slave turns with fire in her eyes.

Let’s go.

2: Arrival
Exhausted, Deedee Yeowoo accepts hot porridge and a warm blanket and eats, ravenously, asking in a small voice for seconds if they’re forthcoming. When she’s done, she sighs, a hand over her eyes, and any bystander can hear the pops of her knuckles and neck as she flexes both.

God, I - I feel halfway human again. Or whatever I am here. Am I still Vulpecian? How many tails?

She laughs at this, weakly, as her three fox tails curl slightly. A curious joke to make, even more curious in context.

3: Good Stuff
Yeah no she’s not touching this stuff without her handler, uh, handling it first. She spent too long learning Mundane healing arts to disrespect healing and/or poisonous herbs and mushrooms. But she diligently picks what she’s bid to, and pays attention to the uses and risks of these herbs.

In a smaller dose, would this be useful as an anaesthe- as a painkiller, do you think?

4: Danger At Sea
Your battle is apt to be interrupted by a flash of crimson, teal and gold from above.

Gryphon! Talon! Kiiiiiick!!!

Suddenly, the monster you’re fighting has received 225 pounds of high velocity vulpine boot to the head, which it finds distracting. The source of this backflips off of the beast, landing in fighting stance with fists raised next to you.

While it’s stunned, let’s go!

3

[fish4science]

Hmmm, that plant? No, I'm afraid there's practically no gap where the dose is small enough to avoid the hallucinations and large enough to dull pain. But the next plant we'll be moving onto does have therapeutic uses-as long as you manage the dose carefully to not stop breathing.

[ Angelika has a book in one hand, and a basket in the other. She's turning pages with her thumb, consulting the manual on the plants, even as Deedee picks them. The basket also contains a couple of respirators. They haven't needed those-yet.]

Sirius Uhr | Original | OU

[guidingbookworm]

I. Arrival

[It wasn’t the first time Sirius had found himself on a different world. Last time people weren’t immediately hostile. Before Sirius could fight back he was subdued, and his magic was suppressed. His brightly glowing eyes dimmed to a dull silver with only a weak flicker of their normal starry glow.

At first Sirius thought he had been captured by another group that saw his magic as a threat. He would understand if he was the only one treated so harshly, his magic would destroy the world one day after all, but he wasn’t the only one torn from another world. He had to help them somehow. There wasn’t much he could do with his magic dangerously suppressed like this, so he played the obedient servant, enduring the harsh treatment and the pain from too much magic building up in his body as he gained his captors’ trust.

He prioritized learning the language. All those private lessons when he was noble paid off and he offered his help to anyone who needed it. He learned about this world by listening to the guards. Unfortunately, he saw several similarities between the Empire and the ruling noble class back home, although it seemed that the normal citizens had even less rights here.

Luckily he was able to learn the language well enough to negotiate the use of his magic, which made him a valuable worker. As a mage he didn’t have to worry about food or sleep as much so even with just a little of his magic he could work longer than most people and his star magic had many useful applications as well. Sirius drew attention to himself and his usefulness as much as he could so he could hide those who were struggling behind his bright glow.

His brightness hid his own suffering as well. Even when he was allowed to use magic it wasn’t enough to get rid of the dangerous build up in his body entirely, so he continued to be poisoned by his magic. It wasn’t life threatening anymore at least. No matter what he did to help the servant gate brought more people every day and it felt like there was no end in sight. Still, he hid his feelings of hopelessness behind a gentle smile as he continued to help. His starry eyes faintly flickered with his hidden doubts.]

Are you alright?


II. Liberation

[Sirius didn’t think this day would come, nor that he would be turning down the offer of freedom after everything he had been through. However, that was the very reason he couldn’t leave. His starry eyes faintly shone brighter as he buried his longing and he pulled his hand away before his savior could break his chains.]

Sorry but I can’t leave, not while that gate still exists.


III. Making the Good Stuff

[It was rare for Sirius to be able to get away like this and he intended to make the most of it. He had been secretly working with some of the Crimson Corsairs in Elysium ever since that night and he planned to meet with them today.

He might as well help with the gathering while he was here. He was told a general idea of what to look for. The suppression band around his wrist was temporarily visible when he picked a purple flower. When he noticed, he quickly pulled his sleeve back over the iron band before he presented the flower with a small smile.]

Is this the right one?

[Don't worry about him.]


IV. Elysium

[Sirius may be trusted to run small errands around Elysium but his magic was completely suppressed while he was out. He had been gone too long and he could feel his magic burning inside him. He staggered against a wall and clutched his chest as he stifled a cry of pain. He just had to get back and the guards would lift the restriction on his suppression bands.]

Just a bit...farther.

[His head swam and he fell forward.]


V. Wildcard

[Surprise me with your own prompt! Sirius is going to stay as a servant so he can make it easier for others to escape. As a result he will probably not hang out at the Vault or Flotsom since they don't have a direct connection to the Empire like Elysium does. Also I hinted at time passing between prompt II and III to make it easier for preestablished CR, specifically Crimson Corsairs contacts, if that interests you.

You can plot with me on plurk Nicholaj, Discord@25thNicholaj or PM this journal, whichever is easiest for you. Enjoy!]

I. Arrival

[lyorning]

[The man Sirius is talking to does not seem to be all right. A mix of a stubborn and unyielding personality and a background that ranged form 'privileged' to 'ultra privileged' meant Aerich had quickly been identified as a discipline problem, and singled out for attention.]

[Aerich recalled as a young man, he had met a foreign prince who had spent time in Aerich's homelands as a serf, to learn enough of sorcery to have the advantage when he returned home. But that had been voluntary, with intention of leaving (even if the landowner had not known the status of the man from the east, nor his intention to leave). But it was a story he could hold onto, even if Aerich had met the man in the context of negotiating a treaty before the foreign army invaded.]

[Aerich gave a shrug to Sirius. By standards of the recent days, he was 'all right', but nothing about this situation was right, and he had been rather ill-treated since his arrival.]

I am well.

[Neutral, inoffensive. Aerich was a quick hand at languages even when learning them for fun. He'd also quickly assessed that he was talking to someone the locals considered of equal rank to him. If he was going to offend someone, he was going to do it on purpose and bear the consequences.]

Azuma Michinaga | Kamen Rider Geats | OU

[nolo]

i. ARRIVAL/LIBERATION

[ After a while, you can get used to all kinds of weird things happening, which is why suddenly appearing in an unknown place doesn't phase Michinaga much. At least not until they try to move in to steal his stuff, at which point he lashes out hard and fast. It takes a good dozen of the guards to take him down enough to restrain him and he still manages to take a few of them down with him.

After that, it gets hard to keep track of time. Michinaga is a construction worker, physical work is doable enough, except that he spends most of his time picking fights with anyone who tries to order him around instead. It doesn't do much other than earn him more bruises, but it makes it clear enough that he will not go quietly, and that's more than enough for him. The weird collar thing seems to be blocking whatever sped-up regeneration he still has in his system, but Michinaga's been throwing himself into bad situations long before he got involved with the DGP, he can live with it.

It's an easy pattern to fall into, so when a sudden swerve happens it takes him a moment to catch up. Not that Michinaga's not happy to throw himself into a fight as soon as it happens, but a few of their erstwhile rescuers might get a few hands thrown at them as well before he manages to get a handle on things. Sorry about that. But as soon as the chains are off, Michinaga shrugs out of any hands trying to steer him towards the waiting ships and turns to stomp back towards the guard houses. Like hell he's running and just leaving those fuckers without consequences. Stealth? Subtlety? Never heard of them.

Anyone who tries to stop him will just get pinned with a dark glare. ] Either keep up or get out of my way.

ii. EDUCATION

[ So this is what hell is like. Michinaga's not dumb by any means, but education has never been much of a priority, let alone having to learn an entire new language. He's picked up a few words here and there but considering he's spent the majority of his time since arrival finding new and inventive ways to get the shit kicked out of himself, it doesn't exactly lead to being conversational. On the plus side, he's probably already picked up a handy list of new swears.

He might be found at times with what might be a children's learning primer, eying the book like it could jump up and bite him at any moment. You never know. ]

This is so stupid.

[ By the time he's gotten at least enough of the language to work out that he's being asked to share what his talents are, Michinaga just stares. ]

Do I look like I have a talent?

[ Sure he can fight, but that's mostly throwing himself at anyone and anything with sheer brute force and stubbornness. Even Michinaga can be pretty sure no one else needs to follow that example. ]

iii. DANGER

[ So. Very large monster. Where's his Driver when he needs it.

Failing that, Michinaga has found his way onto the deck anyway and seems to be actively contemplating just going after the massive serpent with his bare hands. Wouldn't be the dumbest thing he's ever done. At least that's the plan until the boat suddenly rocks hard underneath his feet and the goal becomes find something to hold on to until things settle and then try to see how his un-enhanced strength works again snakeskin. Who says he can't plan ahead?

Only that idea gets derailed too when he spots someone else lose their footing and start to go over the side of the ship. And completely without thinking, Michinaga all but launches himself over the side as well to try and catch them. Maybe he got a wrist, an ankle, a piece of clothing, but once he's got a hold he is absolutely not letting go despite the awkward position. ]

What the hell are you doing? Hold on! [ This is how Michinaga shows concern, don't worry about it. ]

iv. WILDCARD

[ Feel free to throw me anything you like or PM if you want to plan something. I'm fine with prose or brackets and will match styles! ]

Danger

[desashin]

[ Ace is also taking in the sight of the monster roaring as it looms above everything, rising out of the water like a creature from a disaster movie. He's not rushing in at first, observing the way the serpent lashes at the ships, trying to wreck the fleet seemingly just because they happen to be there. There are weapons available, but they definitely aren't the same as Driver belts and Raise Buckles that would definitely help them take the creature down right now.

When the serpent's tail impacts hard against the side of the ship he's on, the entire world tilts. Ace slides to the edge, carried by the sudden jostle and momentum from the angle, and hits the rail as he reaches the end hard. It's only his luck that Michinaga is the one that grabs his clothes--though if that's good or bad luck is unclear. ]

Looks like this challenge doesn't come with handicaps. Nice catch, Buffa.

[ That's probably gratitude. Maybe? ]

Aerich | Dragaera books | OU

[lyorning]

Liberation
Aerich would be hardly recognizable to his friends after several months in the labor camp. It seemed the best way to attract the negative attention of the guards was to hold belief in the wrong caste-based system. After all, an outlander man holding himself like high nobility might cause questions about the validity of the Servant system in the lower classes — if the Divine had ordained a similar system elsewhere, then what would it mean that the Servants’ Gate had summoned a duke rather than serf or commoner?

It also did not help that Aerich was a man unaccustomed to duplicity. He had managed to stand as ‘one of the noble houses, but untitled’ in his youth, but that had been some time ago. Even then, the House of the Lyorn were known for a strict adherence to honor, including the appearance of honor. Aerich had had to learn to think about these things.

As a result, Aerich was one of the more half-starved, bruised and disoriented prisoners who was easy enough to rescue because by the time he was registering what was happened, something else was happening. He only had stopped to reflect once a bowl of something that smelled better than the greatest feast he had ever attended was set in front of him. Despite his hunger, he still was savoring the first bites when he noticed that he was not alone.

“Give the cook my thanks?” He could speak the local language now, but it was much simplified from his normal manner of speaking. While it had been clear that he would be punished if he didn't learn the local language, the guards and supervisors saw little need to teach anything more than what was needed to follow orders and show what they considered proper respect.

Education
Aerich was not a natural academic, but he was aware that he lacked any sort of context for events, and the use of technology and ether (which was neither sorcery nor witchcraft, but some third thing). He couldn’t even read the local language — which, yes, was not unexpected given the role he had been given, but inconvenient. So his first few book choices in the library were mostly to practice reading and to improve his vocabulary. One can find him also carefully copying letters and words, getting used to the motions of a pen. “Can you read this?”

The purpose of being able to write includes being able to write well. Aerich is also aware that the handwriting of a noble is not the same as a commoner who knows just about enough to keep accounts. What he is called on to do here might need the sort of dexterity that looks like either someone who has been educated, or a secretary whose handwriting reflects on his employer. So, he must learn how to write, but also how to write well.

Danger at Sea
Aerich had not done much nautical travel, but he was a trained warrior and that, at least was something he could do. While logistics had delivered him a firm lecture that he could not be picky about what he was granted, especially as his height meant that any sword design intended for his fighting style would be too small. So, he was improvising with sword and dagger, and vambraces that were clearly made of whatever scraps the Corsairs could find, held together by leather.

He was still willing to jump into melee, focusing on a highly defensive style that was mostly about deflecting blows until one could find an opening. Which wouldn’t be the fight ender the way it would be for a humanoid opponent, but was certainly causing the creature to snap at this new irritation. He might need an assist.

Liberation

[newmemorywhodis]

"You're welcome!" Aerich hears in response, after giving his thanks for the meal. Because apparently the young man with the pointy ears and strange arm is the cook.

It's hard to tell exactly how he feels about the compliment - he's oddly blank-faced, with his face tending to be largely unexpressive - but there's a pleased air about him all the same.