test drive 02

[thestewards]

I know dust grows even when there is a breeze
Can't move, can't grow When you've fallen on your knees

► All TDM threads may be considered canon provided both parties agree and are accepted into the game.

► Canon threads may be redeemed for influence and reputation depending on how you solve the issue at hand or how you engage with the prompt. They also count toward AC.

► Feel free to switch up your character's Jewel from thread to thread. Get a feel for how a Birthright Jewel may limit or enhance your character's abilities.

HOT UNDER THE COLLARD GREENS
The relationship between the Blood and the landens has never been easy anywhere, least of all Draega, and even less so now that the Strangers have arrived. Between Blood and landen, opinions on the Strangers vary wildly. Some Blood believe the Strangers were landen in their original worlds and thus cannot possibly have anything to offer, but some landens think this means that the Strangers will be more sympathetic to them—or that landens could gain the power of the Blood one day, too. Then there are the landens who think the Strangers have sold their souls to Queen Fayura to gain the Jewels and the Blood who think the Strangers have embraced what it truly means to be Blood. Whatever that means.

Tensions are high, and they're highest on the main street of the Old Town Bazaar, where two restaurants have an on-going feud. The Last Meal is owned by a Blood family, none of whom wear a Jewel darker than Yellow. Across the street from them stands the mockingly named Blood and Breakfast, owned by a landen family.

To say these two hate each other would be something of an understatement.

On this particular morning, Lord Harle, the Yellow Jeweled owner and chef at The Last Meal, comes storming out of his front door. "You've done it now, Laney Cook! Soured all my milk!"

Simultaneously, Laney Cook, who is the owner and chef at Blood and Breakfast, comes stomping out the front door of her establishment, brandishing a wooden spoon like a sword. "Aye, and you've replaced all my sugar with salt, you ripe old bastard!"

Without missing a beat, both turn to you and the Stranger at your side. Wrong place, wrong time, friend. The two chefs decide the two of you can be trusted to help them prove the other party guilty of sabotage because neither of you has a stake in this. And, well, if the Queen brought you here, you should be an independent party. Both Harle and Cook seem to think the Queen is pretty okay.

Truthfully, they're both equally guilty. Lord Harle and Ms Cook have been trying to ruin each other for years, but who knows what you'll find when you go searching for evidence. And even if you find evidence that decides one way or the other, perhaps you'll simply lie and manufacture a solution that suits you—or the Queen who brought you here.


TERRIBLE TWO(HUNDRED)S
You're not entirely sure how this happened, but you're starting to understand why Blood females constantly grumble about the caste of males they call Warlord Princes. Prince Loren has, somehow, managed to maneuver you to the place you're at now: the head of a classroom full of Blood children who all look like they're somewhere between the ages of eight and ten. It's hard to tell, and you're pretty sure one bossy little boy declared he was 203-years-old, so everyone else has to listen to him, thanks.

Regardless of how Loren managed to get you there, there you stand. Fifteen energetic elementary school children all wearing Jewels shriek and shout, using Craft to amplify already shrill voices. One girl floats near the ceiling, her face screwed up in concentration as she clutches a Rose Jewel. Two little boys are taking turns passing their hands through their desks, which strikes you as distinctly unsafe for eight-year-olds to be doing. (You're not wrong.)

At least there are two of you, and you only need to babysit these children for the morning. "They're here for Craft lessons. Surely, you can manage until Lady Sheera arrives," Loren had said before abandoning you to a battlefield full of powerful, pint-sized children.

There's a lesson plan on the teacher's desk, but maybe you should lead with the snacks.


REVENGE, SERVED STINKY
The air is crisp and cool; it's still winter, but it's not as chilly as it has been, and so you're out for a walk. You've made your way north through Old Town and now find yourself meandering down the roads in front of the landen Guild Halls. Even though they're all made of red brick, each building is entirely unique. The Hunter and Crafter Hall, the largest of all the buildings, has more in common with a hunting lodge than the university building it once was. The Elektriline Hall might be the smallest building, but it's covered in neon lights and impossible to ignore.

Equally impossible to ignore is Master Tinker Mari and her collection of landen young adults. They're clustered around a storm drain. When Mari sees you, she detaches herself from the group of landen students and bounds over to you. "Ahhah! Stranger! You have been brought here against your will and are surely sympathetic to our cause!" she exclaims.

That doesn't make you feel too great since, you know, you're aware that the Hunter Guild tried to kill all the Strangers maybe two or three weeks ago. They may have mellowed out, or they may just be biding their time. Thankfully, none of Mari's students bear the markings of a Hunter.

She pulls you to the group. Already, canisters have been lowered into the sewers. A handful of students have clambered down after the canisters. "The Blood wouldn't help us repair the damage in Old Town," she says, rubbing her hands together. "Our people's homes were unlivable. So we're going to make their workplace unbearable." She points at the canisters. "Stink bombs."

There's another Stranger in the group, and you make eye contact over the top of the storm drain. Are you of the same mind as each other? As Mari? The choice is yours: agree to Mari's plan and fill the buildings of the Ebon Council with untenable stench or try to convince them there's a better way.


AIR TIME
Whether you catch the news on a Far-caster in the city or you're spinning the dial on your own device, you'll hear…

etiquette with evandra and aren
[Evandra's voice is a little bit rough and a little bit husky, the kind of voice that gives bad ideas to young men and headaches to fathers.] Today we're talking about everyone's favorite subject.

[Aren's voice is chipper and bright. He sounds more like an eager boy than the full-grown man he is.] Food?

[A laugh from Evandra.] No, Lord Aren. Sex and flirting. Culturally, the Blood don't consider it rude to flirt quite blatantly with each other, even when one or both of the parties is married. Isn't that right?

[Aren:] That's exactly it, Evandra. Older males allow young witches to flirt because it's understood that the male isn't interested or available. He becomes a safe partner for her to practice on, and his approval lets her know what is and isn't acceptable.

[Evandra:] What does it mean if a married male or witch flirts with you?

[Aren:] Casual flirting means that witch or male thinks you're safe. It's their way of telling you they feel comfortable around you. Of course, it's always acceptable to ask them to step back! [He laughs.] As we all know, just because you can flirt with a Warlord Prince's lady doesn't mean you should!

[Evandra:] Let's take a look at casual flirtation between different Blood castes…

the weather
[A soft-spoken man's voice rumbles out of the Far-caster. He's pleasant to listen to, with a soothing cadence to his voice.] Warmer temperatures will see melting snow over the next week. Be careful around the Heartsblood River, as the heavy snows will result in flooding along the banks. Need flood insurance? The Transport Guild is looking to expand into…

the news
…amusing to hear that Grand Master Niall blames the Blood for the fires in Old Town. It is my understanding that members of the Blood, these so-called Strangers, went out of their way to rescue both Blood and landen during the fires set by the Grand Master's Hunter Guild. [The man speaking has a slow, clipped cadence to his voice. It's very posh and polished.]

[Another voice, presumably an interviewer:] The Council counts the Strangers as Blood, Lord Grejor?

[Grejor:] What else can they be? They wear the Jewels, therefore they are among our number. [He laughs, and the sound is cold.] The Council is pleased to welcome our new brothers and sisters.

Comments

Terrible Two(hundred)s

[midship]

[He does want to be supportive. As a general rule, after all, Horatio Hornblower is a supportive person, particularly to his betters--and, in all honesty, most people are his betters.

More than that, he wants to be supportive here and now to this young woman who clearly seems to know what she's about, with a voice that cuts well through the hubbub of shrieking chaos and a gentle manner the little ones seem at least moderately inclined to respond to. Surely that deserves his bolstering.

It's just this is genuinely something he cannot help with.

Not directly, anyway. Perhaps it will be sufficient to simply underline her thought.] Will-- you start them off, perhaps, ma'am?

[arcuballista]

( It was a bit of a silly trend, but she loved it, honestly. There's a whole box of things in her room back home, old phone covers and textbooks covered in chartreuse, and she feels a pang of homesicknesses as her mind conjures the sight of it, tucked in the back of a chest of drawers.

Are they going to undo what they've done before things hit the capital city, their homes and families?

She can only hope this deal with the Queen will do that.

But, thankfully, this conversation is a good distraction from the threat of emotions welling up in her. Something happier than the fear and worry which comes with the ghost of freezing gales of wind against her skin. )

Really? ( Ding ding ding! ) Cute! You should gift them something. ( HMMMM... ) ... What about bracelets?

[arcuballista]

( ... Well, that's no good. Seoya's nose wrinkles, her lips pursing together in a pout. Nah. She has other ideas here. )

Well. We'll talk to them later. It's only polite to offer us a free meal for this.

( ... Girl. But moving on, if they're going to be working together. )

I'm Seoya Park. What's your name?

[arcuballista]

( Well. )

I find it means I've done it correctly.

( ... Seoya... )

[thedarkbond]

[Ren's not familiar with the specific terms being used here, but it only takes him a few moments to work out what Alex is talking about.]

it is a bit weird that they title everyone here and have a whole system about that, isn't it...
at least they're not doing to us though so we can probably just avoid it \(-o-)/
and you can keep doing you

[shiftinglikeclay]

I'd like to see them try to fit me in their little bubbles. Might be entertaining.

I just feel bad for folks like me who were born here.

[Because for all that she can be a caustic ass sometimes, Alex does care about people]

[shiftinglikeclay]

Turned out Magnus's boat sailed on its own anyway, so it was kinda a moot point. And I can fly on my own.

[Her smile is somewhat lopsided and then fades]

I'm glad you do. And worse case I can turn into an elephant and throw them all out.

[shiftinglikeclay]

[He was going to turn back to helping load the stink bombs, but he has a second thought and instead goes trotting after the giant. Just to... keep an eye out.]

Hey, can I ask what sort of giant you are?

[fulminatum]

[ He laughs — the mental image is hilarious. If Frank ever arrives, Jason is going to mash them together and let them be pals. ]

Tell me about it sometime.

[ Or not — his curiosity isn't overpowering, he has no desire to dissect every single piece of Alex's life. Demigod makes them kin of a kind, and Jason doesn't have a quota on who he draws into the family he's chosen. The Viking thing is more eyebrow raising than the Loki thing, really. ]

[fulminatum]

[ Jason's not had that much luck here, where "luck" is defined as having a clear party to carry blame. Bound by the lasso, Laney has admitted to a whole laundry list of crap that'd make the Stoll brothers look like pickpockets. His expression has darkened until it's thunderous, he shakes his head at Diana as he stands. ]

Same story here. [ He seems to consider, then, quietly, ] Maybe they should serve a meal to the Queen, together, to understand what they can accomplish when they're side by side.

[ this close to getting u guys a get along shirt tbqh ]

b

[houseparty]

[ The far-casters are a curiosity even Stark can't overlook, even though they are outdated and more useful as museum relics, at least in his time. He's got to find out where they're broadcasting from, and there are a million and one questions chambered for the engineers behind it. For now though, he's more interested in the substance of this broadcast versus the tool delivering it.

Cultural nuance is important, especially here with the caste system he's just magically aware of, apparently, and the successful navigation of social norms is key to not fucking up in a new place. So he leans aside, at the kid who seems so enraptured by the device, ]

Hey. Turn that up.

Re: Terrible Two(hundred)s

[theladyofwinterfell]

( Sansa is still terribly uncertain about wrangling this many children who wield Craft but it seems children are still children no matter the realm and they do perk up a bit at the idea of singing a song. There's some clamoring over which song to sing and finally one boy pipes up and makes a request. )

Sing one together, Lady Sansa! You and Horatio should sing one together!

( Sansa glances over at her partner and gives the children a smile. )

Oh, but dear ones, he and I are from different places. He won't know the same ones as I do. We shouldn't put him on the spot now - that's a bit petrifying. Wouldn't you agree, sir?

collard greens..

[garmr]

[Towering over the two cooks is the second Stranger that happened to be walking in the same direction. Guts glowered through the entire explanation with all the warm charisma of a hot poker inches from one's face. He was less neutral arbiter and more massive, uninviting brick wall of black. Maybe he simply wanted to look disagreeable enough to have the two Draega locals reconsider talking to him in the first place.

As it turns out, the man wasn't much of a conversationalist. His response to Tyrion's question is to glance back down with a slight curl of the lip, revealing teeth. The look in his remaining eye said it all: Don't ask him for legal advice.

Impractically large sword aside, the heavy plate armor and equipment would be enough to denote his previous profession. Whatever mercenary company that spat him out in his boyhood would have been exceedingly generous to teach him to read, period.]

hot under the collard greens

[theladyofwinterfell]

( Tyrion is someone that Sansa knows, even if it's been quite a while since she's laid eyes upon or spoken with her former husband. Of the two she's had, he's the better one, and she feels comfortable enough in his presence. Moreover, he's a sharp mind and someone who might be able to sort out this Blood-Landen feud much better than she - even if she's been ruling Winterfell alone for the better part of a year. )

I confess I have no idea, Lord Tyrion. I used to pride myself on being able to manage disputes and run a keep but it does help when one is actually from the region in question. Draega is very different from the North.

( That, perhaps, is quite an understatement but Sansa is a bit out of her depth here. Still, she thinks she might be able to apply some of what she knows from home to this situation. With Lord Tyrion's help, they might well be able to sort it. )

[sunborne]

[ the question throws daylight off a bit. sure he's gotten gawked at and had parents keep their children away from him, but he never gotten asked like this at point blank range.

he nearly stumbles over his own pedes in surprise, spooking some passerby thankfully, he rights himself up and address alex's question. ]

What do you mean by that? I- [ but then it clicks for him and ah. ] Oh... Oh. Oh!

I'm- Um... I'm a hybrid. [ time for the awkward part: ] My dad is a Galateion. I got the bigness from his side. My mom is human and that's why I have a humanoid appearance.

[athnvas]

[ she knew piper would catch on, and annabeth doesn't so much as react to mari's scoffs. ]

And does it matter if they have magic? [ because annabeth knows that feeling. that little bit of bitterness, that edge to mari's voice. she gets it, she understands, but that doesn't make mari any more correct. ] All that matters in the end is what gets done. And from what I can tell, you have all you need to get it done. Without them.

[ there's a kind of emphasis on those last two words. the kind that leans to you don't need them and you have all you need right here, why depend on people like that? she looks around and some of the group starts muttering to each other again, and annabeth lets piper continue.

she's seen piper's abilities at work before, and can notice the slight difference in her tone. in the way the words seem to be shaped. it works, of course it works, and annabeth has to keep herself from smiling at the way everyone seems to be following piper's voice. thankfully she's able to keep from looking too pleased, as suddenly everyone turns to look at her, and she lets out a breath. of course. ]

I'd be happy to help. [ she can design houses in her sleep. especially if its anything like the architecture she's seen so far. ] But they will be your homes, made from your hands. [ she meets piper's eyes for a brief moment before turning back to the crowd at large. ] Better than before, because they will be wholly yours.

[ annabeth swears she can feel the mood change. suddenly instead of standing around in rapt attention, the students are murmuring with each other. she can see mari considering it, her mind already moving onto the ideas but suspicious. annabeth had a hunch that she would be the hardest one to convince, but once she was, her need to create would keep her on the path.

so to just...help this along. annabeth turns to mari. ] Especially with a Master Tinker and teacher like Mari to help lead it. Right?

[ all it takes is one student, someone off to annabeth's left, letting out a quick and confident yeah! can you imagine how cool a house we designed ourselves could look? and with master tinker mari helping... and suddenly the entire crowd of students were chattering away. ]

a

[assholic]

No, but I'm sure we can improvise something. Maybe... smacking their heads together until they promise to stop?

[She didn't often have to look down so far to talk to someone, but there she was and there he was, and this was apparently the situation she was going to have to deal with now.

Perfect. Well, it wouldn't be the first time she'd had to sort someone else's shit out, and she'd agreed to 'help'. She hadn't known she'd be saddled with a partner when she'd made that agreement. Maybe Queen whatserface knew enough about Jessica to know that someone with a mouth that wasn't full of barbs and cruses might come in handy. She gave her companion a raised brow, indicating it was up to him to make the next move; hers would likely involve exactly what she threatened.]

[illequipped]

[Emil waits, watching, not helping in the slightest not because he's that kind of snobbish person but because he too will be critically embarrassed if he can't figure this thing out within seconds. It's-- definitely some kind of radio, he's gotten that far, but he wouldn't know what any of these unmarked edges and bits are at a glance, either.

So they're doing great, as a pair. Stellar, really. He startles when the volume cranks up, really blasting the intimate details of how to respond when a Warlord Prince flirts with you in public...]

You made it worse!! People are staring— [and so the natural course of action is to quite literally whap his hand uselessly against the side of the device, trying to do anything at all-- so now they're listening to very loud weather.]

[inducings]

[ Oh, that was nicely done, Annabeth! It was masterful how she took the weight of attention that Piper had helped to place on her and turned it back to box Mari neatly in with flattery and praise. It would be difficult for the woman to turn back the tide of enthusiasm.

And Piper wasn't entirely sure that Mari wanted to, not right at first - it wouldn't suit her narrative. No, she'd have to decide - bitterness and hatred or a fresh start. It wasn't so easy, Piper had no doubt that this would not be anything like the end. But if Mari actually embraced this... and if the Blood would let the landen take such ownership of their homes... it could be so good. It could be a step.

But it's one that Mari will have to make herself, and so Piper resists the urge to cement this turn further by going to Mari and saying anything else. She approaches Annabeth instead and speaks quietly. ]

Can we dismantle the stink bombs, just in case?

[inducings]

Piper. [ She's too used to leaving off her last name, due to... family issues. ] And I'm not sure I'd want a free meal from a place that doesn't notice that all it's milk is sour or that it's salt's been replaced by sugar. Do you expect to find anything in here?

[ Because this kind of detective work - not Piper's forte. People, she can do. Looking for evidence, not as much. ]

[whettedmind]

[Oh. The device had been...farcasting, Tyrion supposes, because the correct terminology is as alien as the technology itself, and while familiarizing himself with it is on his list of priorities, it's a very long list. There's a flash of disconcerted surprise across his face before he schools his expression back to a faintly-amused neutral.]

The problem with playing naive is that often has the same outcome as actually being naive. If everyone thinks you're someone's pawn, they'll act accordingly. It doesn't matter if it's actually a clever ruse.

[whettedmind]

Oh? Do you just beat people with sticks until they like you?

[He sounds genuinely curious. Or, at the very least, genuinely interested in seeing just what strange turns this conversation might take.]

[midship]

[The actual magic, of course, is magic, but there's still something quite magic-adjacent about the children settling into themselves. It even sounds, from the chattering, as if there might be a surfeit of tunes to distract the room with until a more properly qualified adult came to take command.

Unless this whole 'singing together' thing is a critical portion of the plan. Then, well, they're certainly on the cusp of defeat.

Horatio's features are fairly well trained into stillness, but it's very possible Sansa will notice the slight shift back of his weight at the suggestion. Hopefully there's nothing much wrong with regrouping in the face of simple requests from actual children.]

--hm. [Clearing his throat, as always, jumpstarts half an actual response.] I'm certain the children know it's-- quite important to face one's fears.

[That feels like the right thing to say. It isn't doing much to actually extract him from the situation, but it's probably what children ought to hear.

But also, clearly, already a regrettable thing to have said.]

[whettedmind]

[A silent wall of metal with all the human charm of a siege tower. Wonderful. Tyrion has no doubt that he'd be grateful for the other Stranger's presence if another spate of attempted murder were to break out, but these particular locals don't seem overly inclined to violence.

'A fine to cover the damages, plus penalties,' Lord Harle pipes up, and it isn't at all clear whether the nervous edge to his voice is born of fear of being caught, or just plain fear.]

Is that all?

[The note of mild surprise in his voice is largely manufactured. It's hardly a high crime, spiking someone's cakes with salt.

He looks between the two chefs, then points off in the direction of the Blood and Breakfast, glancing up again at the other Stranger.]

I'm going to go talk to their staff. You can join me, or watch to make sure no one sneaks out the back. It's entirely your choice.

[theladyofwinterfell]

Well, we'll do something a bit simple then, all right? I'll sing and we won't trouble Horatio unless he wants to join in of his own accord, all right?

( Sansa is quite comfortable singing, after all, and anything to take the focus off her companion seems a good idea at the moment. She starts singing a song she'd sung as a child at Winterfell, a silly little song about a tailor and a mouse. She has a high, clear soprano voice; she's always been a bit proud of it. It's easy to join in and after a while, some of the children start singing the chorus along with her. Once she's finished, she claps her hands a bit. )

Now, that was quite wonderful. I won't be able to instruct you in Craft quite like Lady Sheera but do all of you know how to vanish and call forth objects? I always have a bit of trouble with my shoes, you see, and if you'd help me learn it, I would certainly appreciate it.

( She looks to Horatio, gently inquisitive. )

Have you any insights about the finer points of basic Craft? I really do need all the help I can get. I'm quite hopeless.