Viva La Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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vivalaooc2024-05-31 08:15 pm
vivalamods) wrote in vivalaooc2024-05-31 08:15 pm
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Test Drive Meme #1
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.
no subject
It's after this delay that he lets the end of the rope drop, no longer having a use for it. "No problem," he replies, having recovered from the shock of this particular ability. Id's seen people evade attacks that should have struck them, sure, but disappearing and reappearing over that distance? Must be some form of magic.
Now that the immediate threat of losing the guy to the sea is behind them, Id spares a moment to give him a quick, down-up glance. He looks fine, aside being drenched, but it's still prudent to ask, "Any injuries?"
no subject
He's about to do just that when another pair of tentacles come flailing in their direction-
"Look out!"
In one swift movement, Noctis tackles his rescuer sending the both of them to the deck just as one of the monster's limbs comes crashing through the spot where the other man had been standing. In the next instant, he's rolled off of the other man and is on his feet, a spectral sword in hand parrying and holding the second tentacle at bay.
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Not right now, not in the midst of this.
He doesn't question where that sword came from. Instead, he pulls the hefty, two-handed blade from the improvised straps on his back and moves to assist. What Id may lack in the nimbleness others possess, he makes up for in brutal efficiency. Despite the weapon nearing his own height, despite its far from modest weight, he slams it down on the monster's limb with the speed and ease of a smaller weapon.
It isn't as sharp as it should be; the blade doesn't cut cleanly through the tentacle, but it does cleave into springy flesh. Were it his own sword, the one he'd lost, it would've only taken one stroke. "Not enough..." He grits the words out, already twisting the blade around to slam it down again.
This time the tentacle goes limp, flopping to the deck at their feet. If only there weren't so many more. "Looks like we're even, but—" Id's thought is abbreviated by the other nearby tentacle whipping back, readying to strike. Reflexively, Id positions himself between it and this guy who can pull weapons out of nowhere. "Hope yours is sharper than mine."
no subject
Kicking the severed limb aside, Noctis also spots the other tentacle rounding for another blow.
"Hey! What are you- !" Noctis gapes for a moment as the other man intends to shield him from the oncoming attack and then his jaw sets, the situation triggering something in him.
No more sacrifices.
"Don't be stupid!" He yells. Whether Id catches the fact that he hit a nerve is up to question. "I don't need your protection!"
Noctis runs out from behind the man, bringing the blade up in a series of quick slashes, each one cleanly slicing right through the descending tentacle and littering the ground around them with chunks of sea monster flesh.
The sword vanishes and a pair of spectral daggers appear in his hands.
"We'll get nowhere just hacking off its arms. We gotta go for the source- help me find its head!"
no subject
He shifts the hilt of the greatsword in his grip, tipping the blade as indication. Dull as it has proven to be, it only makes good sense to him that he take up defense if the other man can attack more effectively — and he clearly can. It's just efficient, isn't it?
Maybe he's too accustomed to people who have some understanding of one another in a fight. Even the other generals knew what he was doing, knew what they were all doing, because they'd trained with him for years. They'd been his teachers, for that matter.
In any case, he moves right on from it. Now he knows this guy is capable of landing a killing blow, and that's essential for their efforts. "They're more concentrated on the north side — the limbs." That suggests to him the main body must be around there.
no subject
He's a little touchy due to recent events. Others making 'necessary sacrifices,' to ensure the Ring of the Lucii made it into his hands. The same ring he refuses to wear.
No more. No one else is getting hurt- or dying- on his account; teamwork or no!
Ironically, he's usually very good at coordinating with his allies in battle, often calling the shots himself. But unfortunately, trauma's a bitch.
At least the other guy doesn't linger on the subject, and Noctis is happy to move on without any questions thrown his way.
"Got it," he affirms and starts to cross the planks heading towards the North. "The name's Noctis, by the way, but you can call me Noct."
no subject
"Mine's Id. Don't think there's any shortening that one," he responds with a casual shrug. Whether he's making an attempt at humor is questionable, lacking indication one way or another. He hasn't really had a nickname though, much less the offer to call someone by one, but he mentally files the information away. Noctis prefers Noct. Easy.
As they make their way, he sidesteps a falling post without losing stride. It's not so different from when monsters attack airships, save that Id's more sure of his footing in the sky than on the sea. For a time, it seems he has nothing more to say as they pick their way toward their target, until he abruptly asks, "You get overgrown monsters where you're from?"
It's good to establish that, Id reasons.
no subject
Noctis just stares at him blankly for a second, trying to decide if the guy, Id apparently, is joking or not. One would think Noct would be used to this, having spent enough time with the likes of one Ignis Scientia, but at length, he just shrugs, jumping to the side to avoid the falling post as well. Id may or may not notice him stumble a little in an almost limp every so often, a side effect from a childhood injury that never fully healed. Nevertheless, he does a pretty good job keeping up.
As for the question, Noctis tilts his head a little, "We talkin' oversized Daemons or more like Titan the Archean and Leviathan, the Hydrean." He shrugs one shoulder this time, "Because I've fought them both."
He hopes this thing isn't anything like the Hydrean. The Tide Mother sure gave him a run for his money, and he's still recovering.
no subject
"So you've fought primals too," Id concludes, turning his focus back to the path ahead. The small difference in the rhythm of Noctis' steps does catch his attention, but it doesn't seem to be impeding the guy for now, so he doesn't speak of it. Injuries could be a tender subject, he understands. "That makes things simpler."
Having a sharpened weapon would make it even more simple, but Noctis can apparently pull weapons out of nowhere. So long as one of them has the means, they can see the task done. If he can still access dragonform, Id can be his own weapon. He just doesn't like to bank on "if".
no subject
As for a sharpened weapon, well, he could temporarily grant this guy access to the Armiger if it comes down to it.
"Makes things simpler? You have a plan of some sort?"
no subject
He lapses into silence then, save for the heavy thump of boots against wood planks. Is it worth asking? Maybe it's strange or pointless to wonder, but—
"...You have one named Lilith, where you're from?"
no subject
"Let's see... according to the Cosmogony there's Titan, the Archaean, Ramuh, the Fulgurian, Shiva, the Glacian, Leviathan, the Hydraean, Bahamut, the Draconian, and Ifrit, the Infernian- Nope, no Lilith as far as I know. You'd be better off asking Luna, but she's..." he trails off, falling silent himself as it's like a stab through the heart to think about.
no subject
He doesn't say any of this, realizing that Noctis has fallen into a brooding sort of silence. At least, the weight of it suggests as much to Id. A frown tugs at his lips, the slightest change in expression on features that already look stern to most. This isn't the sort of thing he's good at.
"...It's enough, what you've told me." He begins with this, suspecting the rest of Noctis' sentence would have been grim. Maybe it's recent. Maybe it's someone close. It could be both, but Id doesn't think it's his place to ask. "Lilith was...she raised me, but in the end..." He trails off, unsure whether the disclosure will help or not, certain as he is that he's just not great at people.
Yet he does understand loss, even if Lilith's end was unavoidable. Even if she'd betrayed him when he tried to convince her to halt her destructive course. A part of him still loves her. He suspects that part will always remain.
no subject
"A... anyway, the Oracle is the bridge between Humanity and the Gods. That's why she'd know more." He starts at the realization, then tilts his head in thought, "You were raised by a God?"
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"Not exactly," Id replies, shaking his head. "Astrals are immortal, but they're no gods where I'm from. For the longest time, I didn't even know she was..." Once he did, it made a certain terrible sense. What she knew, what she had access to, how she used it — Astrals were the ones who possessed advanced knowledge and technology. Astrals were ruthless, what's more.
Rolan's an exception, Id knows.
"My world's just got the one god, but Astrals act like they might as well be."
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As for the Astrals of Id's world...
"You don't sound real fond of them."
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Rolan will always be Rolan to him, especially after finding his journal entries while searching for a way to save him. Id would never lump him in with those who bore no love for the world or those within it, who saw them as something to use and experiment on for whatever purpose that even served.
"We'd just gotten him back before all this happened." He waves a hand at their surroundings, at their circumstances, at this world in general. "Thought my days'd be quieter after that last battle."
no subject
Noctis dodges some flying debris by means of another point warp but makes sure to not get ahead of his companion.
Luckily, they seem to be getting close to the point of origin- which means the head of the creature- and they can finally take it out.
"Hey, you prefer broadswords?"
no subject
He clearly doesn't expect anything to come of that question beyond simply establishing what he can do as they advance on the creature's head, one large eye shifting to watch them. "Sounds like we've both got unfinished business back home."
Which is all the more reason for them to dispense with this beast.
CW: eye injury
"'Thought you could use something a little sharper." Noctis says, summoning the Swords of the Wanderer and throwing one right for that open eye where it embeds itself. "You can thank the Old Kings."
It's only temporary, but if granting Id the Power of Kings helps get rid of this thing before it does too much damage, it'll be worth it.
His form turns phantasmal as he warps to the thrown weapon, switching to the Star of the Rogue and unleashing a flurry of warp strikes.
CW: blood
Before he can comment, Noctis has already disappeared and reappeared where he'd thrown another weapon. He shelves the thought, rushing forward and swinging the blade around when a limb comes bearing down toward him. The sword easily cleaves the tentacle where it makes contact, spilling blue blood on the planks below as the monster howls.
"Not bad." His words are swallowed up by the noise, but he doesn't mind it. Instead, he maintains his momentum, striking the monster with swift, brutal swings of the borrowed weapon, his own energy surrounding the blade in an indigo so vivid it appears electrified.