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vivalaooc2025-01-31 08:44 pm
vivalamods) wrote in vivalaooc2025-01-31 08:44 pm
Entry tags:
TDM #8
TEST DRIVE #8
The day begins as any other, you’re going about your day, living your life, when, without warning, you feel the world around you shift on its axis. You feel a great tear, welling from the depths of your soul as you are ripped from all you have known. If you’re lucky, you arrive in the wilderness of an unfamiliar world, where the language is foreign and the people are hostile. To make your escape, you must learn some language, flee, and occasionally fight, all to find your way off the floating isles you find yourself on and to the great ocean below, where rebel forces will welcome you.
If you’re unlucky, you materialize within a room full of armed guards and are quickly subdued with charged nets, stripped of your belongings, fitted with strange devices that suppress your powers and pressed into servitude. Your days are unimaginable pain and toil.
Fortunately, even in this world, there is still hope. For the denizens of this world have not given up. And it is for that dream of salvation that the Crimson Corsairs raise their flags and sail - for liberation. Perhaps you are one who has lived their entire life under the oppressive yoke of the Empire. Perhaps you have seen first hand your family and friends cut down by nobles hunting men for sport, or perhaps you have run afoul with the church and barely escaped with your life. No matter your origin, the Corsairs sail for you, for your freedom, for your life. And today, a taste of freedom will be won for all.
ARRIVAL/LIBERATION
The attacks on Bluvink and Vindess were wildly successful, but it also created the largest risk to Imperial citizens ever. Due to the heavy dealing with certain elements of the imperial citizenry, there has been a heightened risk at the Empire cracking down on them. In an effort to protect them, the Corsairs have welcomed a large number of refugees from Imperial settlements for the first time. While some servants were also liberated in the operation, a great deal of the Corsair’s airship resources were devoted to evacuation.
As such, the Vault is filled to the brim with people being processed and temporarily housed. Whole families have been displaced, and it’s hard to determine who might be willing to sell out the Corsairs for a chance to return when offered. Please be patient, like as not, you’ll be here for a while.
UNDERGROUND OVERCROWDING
In addition to the refugees, many of Flotsam’s regulars are currently residing in the Vault. While the settlement is quite large, even its capacity is starting to become overloaded. And with the clashing personalities of typical Vault and Flotsam residents, to say nothing of all of the Imperial refugees who have been ripped from their former lives and are now residing in an unfamiliar and, for Isle-dwellers disconcerting new home, tensions are running high. It’s pretty common for brawls to break out, although if you’re taking part or attempting to keep the peace is another story entirely.
CRITICAL REPAIRS
The fighting in the Isles Above was intense, and the airships did not escape unscathed. The ships have been brought into the Vault for intensive inspection and repairs, and those who are on duty are working day and night to get them fixed up in time for the next major operation. Whether you’re a craftsperson, hunter, gatherer, or salvager, chances are high that you’ve been tapped to procure or create material for these repairs, and you haven’t really had much time to rest.
It’s all right though, the foremen kindly left free pizza in the mess hall. That makes it fine, right?
WHEN YOU’RE LAND-BOUND, BETTER DRINK
Many of the Flotsam residents are going more than a little stir-crazy hiding out in the Vault. In what is certainly an extremely cunning plan without any potential downsides, the Vault has mobilized all of the Waterlogged Row’s purveyors of grog and set them up centrally within the Vault. And thus, the Flotsam citizens are able to engage in their favorite past-time. Getting extremely drunk. In enclosed quarters. In a city full of scholars that’s under constant bombardment.
Surely nothing will go wrong.
WILDCARD
Have an idea for your own prompt? Feel free to make any prompt that you think would fit!
OOC
Welcome to the eighth Test-Drive Meme for Viva La! All threads here may be considered canon once characters have entered the game. Threads here are eligible for use as a roleplay sample for applications, which will open on the 5th of February at midnight.
code credit
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Calmly, she placed a hand out, and took the first step only when he was ready, ignoring the guards entirely. While she was dressed a bit more typically, she had one thing that might jump out as odd to Matt: The glove on her hand was a rather heavy leather. Almost like she was trying to hide something underneath.
Less obvious would be how pale she was.
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"Thanks!" Matt says, smiling rather smugly knowing full well the guards can see his expression, as he takes the gloved arm she offers and follows her lead in whichever direction she decides to lead.
The guards grumble in an attempt to get the last word, tossing insults in their direction.
It's cold outside, making it no surprise he happened upon someone wearing thick gloves, though most people in the city prefer to bundle up with something softer than leather. Protective gloves? he wonders. To his sensitive touch, he can feel that she doesn't seem to carry the body heat others do, making him wonder if she's a species other than human. A cold blooded type? All the reptile beastkin he had met preferred to bundle up heavily and if possible stay inside in these months though.
"Your gloves feel like they're well made," he says. He's too curious about her story now to simply walk in silence.
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Once they're well clear of the guards, she speaks a hint more openly. "Kaitlyn Saunders. Whom might I have had the pleasure of getting out of the way of the guards?"
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Normally, Matt would simply introduce himself as Matthias Meerdock. But he's too close to what remains of his past life to let that name slip out. It would be very confusing if she was local and had heard about his business and death.
"Hades," he says, trying his best to speak with confidence. As a lifelong worshipper of the old gods, he hardly feels he deserves the name. Perhaps later he can tell her his other name.
"Thank you for your help, Kaitlyn. Seems the local soldiers have become emboldened ever since the Emperor's speech. They used to be slightly better at minding their business." He sighs.
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She could tell there was some... Appraising, going on. Which combined with that name... Hades was a myth of... At least a few worlds, it seemed.
"An interesting moniker," she observes. "With such a name, no wonder the guards give you such attention. No different than people spotting certain bits about me, sadly."
Coded, guarded language. An important tool.
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"I can handle myself, but I worry about the increase of soldier presence passed off as protection for the people," he says, testing the waters of her stance on the state of the world with the kind of suggestion a number of people in the city whispered to each other day to day.
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"Their role... Sometimes I wonder what it really is. If they even know themselves."
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"If you ask me, they're not sure what to do with themselves because their purpose is to intimidate everyone else with their presence. It doesn't matter if they stand at attention or pick fights with citizens. As long as they wear their armor and remind the people the Empire is watching them."
He lowers his voice. "They do more to invade the privacy of citizens than intimidate the Crimson Corsairs the Emperor claims are dangerous to the people."
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She wasn't going to let on that she knew more, of course. But that much probably made clear where her sympathies lay without giving much away.
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He has no reason to assume she is a Corsair herself, but her viewpoint and her unusual choice of gloves and body temperature have him curious.
"Do you live in the city?" he asks her. "I used to. I've been travelling for a while now."
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A bit circumspect, but no lies. No full truths until she knew this figure could be trusted.
"What has brought you to travel?"
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"I went through major life change," he explains. Quite the life change at that. "I guess you could say I'm getting in touch with my roots. My mother's people are nomadic, much to the Empire's chagrin. They like all their subjects in a row, not wandering around the map."
Also technically true. He was visiting sites where remains of shrines to the Old Gods stood. He had been to some in his youth. His mother's caravan worshipped the Old Gods and were on the move to avoid the Empire's rules on religion. He too was a devout follower. Never would he have guessed his connection to the old religion would pay off by giving him a second chance at life.
"It might sound funny for a blind man to travel, but there's more to places than what you can see."
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She's smiling a bit. "May they continue to be free."
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"... For now, continuing to adapt is all we can do. Until we have the choice again."
Still coded language. Still reflecting her interests clearly.
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"I better stop here. Thank you, Kaitlyn. I enjoyed our chat," he says, smiling.
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... And seeming to disappear from some of his senses faster than would be normal.
Trained in sneaking, but also something else, it seemed.