vivalaooc | Test Drive Meme #1

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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.

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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!))

Edited 2024-06-01 04:50 (UTC)

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.

Seeing new faces (?) that aren't readily joining in with established Corsair post-mission activities isn't anything new. Donnie's been on that side of things, in that strange little space where you're still trying to digest everything that's happened and soaking in the newfound facts of freedom.

This newcomer is quite the curiosity indeed, easily catching the turtle's eye- and gaining one in return, it seems. He stiffens briefly, only mildly startled, eyes widening as he takes this as an opportunity to stare a little more. Thought he was(n't) close before? Well, he's about to drift a little closer, though still cautious.

"What are you?" he marvels, not so much a demand as an open-ended observation.

One can't blame Donnie for being wary about the guy he's been stuck with. Besides Rezo clearly being new (he still has that gaunt look that's characteristic of a recently liberated servant), he has this vague smile on his face as if he's a thousand miles away. Or has already dived nose-first into a patch of hallucinogenic flowers.

But when Donnie speaks up Rezo responds easily enough. "There is no need for concern. I have experience with handling wild plants."

He tilts his head up, enjoying the air for a moment before adding, "And I packed gloves."

It's particularly unnerving when you can't get a decent read on a person. He's not sure what to make of that smile but the effect has had the exact opposite in that it's just put him more on edge as they traipse through the woods.

That the man admits he's experienced with wild plants earns a tiny point in his favor, the gloves, a begrudging second. "Yeah, well some of the plants around here don't wait to be touched before doing their damage," he points out, his voice only slightly muffled behind the breathing mask he's secured over the lower half of his face.

"My big brother got a small whiff of one flower once and couldn't tell top from bottom for hours." The faintest chuckle escapes him at the memory; it wasn't funny at the time given he had to mostly drag his brother home and he was a full head taller and twice as broad in girth.

A smile has been Rezo's default expression for a long time. As a priest, he's supposed to be a comforting presence regardless of his own mood, and most people find a serene smile to be reassuring. Or it makes them want to punch him. Either/or. As it happens, Rezo's genuinely enjoying being out and about right now, so the smile isn't just for Donnie's benefit.

"Thank you. I'll be careful," Rezo promises. It's going to be a bit inconvenient to not be able to use his nose, but it'll be more inconvenient if he gets absolutely zonked when he's supposed to be working. Maybe he should tie a cloth over his face.

"Is your brother another one of the Corsairs?"

Donnie just finds it creepy and suspicious. But then he's always pretty wary of people these days, especially humans. Certainly one who smiles so much is up to something!

As it is, he has no idea how to deal with Rezo. The man hasn't made himself a problem and despite the carefree attitude has been rather vigilant. And at least he seems sincere in taking Donnie's advice, which scores more than a few points in itself. After a few steps more, the turtle youth digs around one of his belt pouches before producing another filtration mask, holding it out to the priest.

"...no," he says, the pause of his hesitation palpable, but it's all Donnie offers, putting a lid on any pesky feelings that might have threatened to seep out as he pushes forward.

"I see."

Rezo can recognize a subject that's off-limits when it's presented to him, and silently agrees to consider the matter closed. Fortunately, Donnie's gone and literally handed him a different potential conversation topic, so maybe the trip won't descend into awkward silence just yet.

"This is a mask? What an interesting design."

He feels out the shape of it, taking particular interest in the filters. They didn't have such masks in his world, relying on either simple cloth barricades or air shamanism to deal with airborne toxins.

Donnie | Rise of the TMNT | AU

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