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agentleooc2019-01-03 11:30 am
thestewards) wrote in agentleooc2019-01-03 11:30 am
test drive 01
So you can feel stronger, you can know peace
► 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.
► Feel free to switch up your character's Jewel from thread to thread. Get a feel for how a Birthright Jewel may limit or enchance your character's abilities.
► 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.
► Feel free to switch up your character's Jewel from thread to thread. Get a feel for how a Birthright Jewel may limit or enchance your character's abilities.
GOOD MORNING, DRAEGA
The psychic summons comes with the first light of dawn, waking you from a dream of home. It takes you a minute to remember where you are (a warm, comfortable room in Queen Fayura's residence) and then a moment longer to parse the words.
*Your presence is requested in the training field behind the Queen's Residence. You have ten minutes to get your ass out of bed on your own, or ten minutes to decide you want to be up to your neck in ice-cold mountain water. Your choice.* Gray power flavors the voice. Ah, you recognize that psychic touch. Allairavar, the Master of the Guard.
You remember, too, that he warned the household at last night's supper: if you live in the Queen's Residence, you practice with the Queen's court. You…
i. Drag yourself out of bed with an aching groan, dress with the bleary-eyed confusion of one too suddenly forced awake, and amble onto the training field to avoid the promise of a much more shocking wake up call. Or maybe you make your way quickly with a skip in your step and a twinkle in your eye. You haven't realized yet that Allairavar does not like morning people. Even so, you don't want to get dunked in ice water in the middle of winter.
ii. Roll over and go back to sleep. The Master of the Guard isn't really going to carry through with his threat. In your defense, he doesn't. But one of the First Circle does. You're not sure how you got from your room to a large barrel full of water that could freeze open flame, but here you are, soaked and shivering and very much awake.
Regardless of how you get to the training field, Allairavar pairs you with another Stranger and puts you through your paces. It's barely above freezing, but you're going to need a shower when you're done.
BUILD BETTER BOMBS
There are three rows of four tables set up in the Tinker Guild Hall's auditorium, all heavy laden with materials. Bits of wires, buttons both small and large, ticking clocks. A tank full of goldfish. Sand, canisters of gasses, a strange viscous liquid in a bowl of lead.
"Handle that with gloves," Master Tinker Mari warns you with a wink and a grin. "The bowl, I mean. Don't handle the liquid or you'll lose your hand." She waves her hands at you.
This is supposed to be a crash course in bomb making, and in a way it is. Master Tinker Mari crashes into person after person, pushing them into pairs. She shoves someone up to you. "Blow my mind!" she whispers dramatically, and then she vaults the table, making something in a vial smoke, bubble, and pop.
Around the edge of the auditorium are four chalkboards, each with several diagrams on them. Presumably, these are schematics for you to follow. Smoke bombs, flour bombs. Fireworks and sparklers. Water bombs—maybe she means water balloons? One schematic requires a hamster wheel.
You might as well give it a go.
Note: Master Tinker Mari won't let anyone blow themselves up (or blow up the building). In the event Strangers make something truly dangerous and not just inconvenient, she will hurry over with a much more serious demeanor and disarm the bomb they've created with a suggestion that they take her advanced course.
CHARITY IS AS CHARITY DOES
You were sent here to help, so help you have: by letting the Ebon Council auction off three hours of your time and the power in your Jewels to help with local troubles. Maybe someone's cold box has lost its cooling spell—that's basic Craft and you can help with that—or maybe someone needs you to fetch their cat down from a tree. Whatever it is, you're here to take care of it.
The stage you stand on creaks beneath your feet as a polite older witch bids on you and your partner (the Ebon Council would never let you work alone, no, the landens are too dangerous for you to be out on your own!) with three jars of pear preserves. No money exchanges hands here, just items like non-perishable foods and handmade clothing or blankets.
You'll help the little old witch who needs some rocks moved from the fields just outside Draega's walls, but it occurs to you that only the Blood were at this auction, and only they will reap the rewards. That's hardly charity… but that's also not your problem, is it? Maybe it is. You could always ask that landen couple hovering just to the side of the stage what they need (their roof is leaking, and the man's right hand is crippled, twisted into a rigid claw). Or maybe you won't. They don't have anything to offer, and everything has a price, even your time.
HIT AND RUN
Chill winter air doesn't keep anyone inside in Draega. Stalls line the streets of the Old Town Bazaar, and vendors hawk their curious wares. Blood and landen mingle here, each a little wary of the other but with the affect of those who have accepted they must live alongside their enemy. Expressions are shuttered, but marks are marks no matter who hands them over. No shopkeeper denies a customer just because the money comes from someone they don't like, not in times like these.
As you make your way through the Bazaar, perhaps in search of something or someone or a place to eat (the scent of meat pies is thick in the air), you hear a shout and a cry of pain. People peel back as one, revealing a group of young landen men carrying clubs and wearing cruel sneers. At their feet, a young boy sprawls across a puppy in the muddy slush that covers the road.
You catch the flavor of his psychic scent: he's half-Blood, one of those pitiable creatures accepted by neither the Blood or the landens.
"Y-you can't hurt him!" the little boy cries, curling around the puppy. "P-Prince Verim will stop you!"
The young men laugh. "Prince Verim isn't here," one spits, raising his club.
You could step back. After all, this isn't your problem. You could just alert the First Circle and call it done; they patrol the area, one of those males will surely be here soon. Or you could step in. Everything has a price, and the price of attacking a helpless child and a puppy is a tussle with you.
WALKIE-TALKIE
Catch up with a new acquaintance you met at the Queen's Residence or simply pause to listen to the news playing in a store you're passing through. Far-casters come in all shapes and sizes, from the held-held device that's a bit clunky to the radios that stand at a man's height in some restaurants. If you're spinning the dial and listening to some radio programs, you'll hear…
etiquette with evandra and aren.
[A woman's voice leads. It's a little bit rough and a little bit husky, the kind of voice that gives bad ideas to young men and headaches to fathers.] …just as well. Since you don't want to die for offending a Warlord Prince's lady, what do you do, Lord Aren?
[A man's voice, chipper and bright. He sounds more like an eager boy than the full-grown man he is.] Apologize immediately to her, but meet his gaze so he knows the apology is for him as well. Remember, dear listeners: a Warlord Prince's lady may be all that stands between you and a violent end. Make sure she likes you!
[The woman laughs.] Or at least doesn't think killing you is worth the trouble. If we all learn a little more about each other, we can learn to live together. As always, I'm Evandra.
[With great gusto, Lord Aren says:] I'm Aren, and you've been listening to…
[Together:] Etiquette with Evandra and Aren! [Jaunty outro music plays, a complete tonal dissonance with the fact that the two were just educating landens on how to avoid murder.]
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.] …rain tomorrow with overcast skies through the morning and afternoon. Landen weather devices indicate a decrease in sky-pressure, so those of you who suffer from migraines may want to talk to your Healers or Medicos now.
There's possibility of snow later in the week from the northwest. Questions about snow removal? Reach out to your local Transport Guild rep or your Ebon Council chairperson.
the news
…Blood family of four found murdered in their homes. The Queen's Court assures Draega that no payment for the murders is being asked for at this time. [The man speaks at a brisk pace, hurried and harried as though he has too much to say and not enough time to say it.]
That's right, Garret. [Another man, nasally in tone. He doesn't sound rushed so much as put upon.] Preliminary investigations do indicate the Hunter Guild may be responsible for the deaths.
[Garret:] Indeed they do, Wilt. Evidence at the scene supports the use of Breakers on the family. Turning now from the grisly murder to the surprising way the Queen's Winsol gift to the city is being used to benefit both Blood and landens.
no subject
And it doesn't take a genius to understand that people can't prevent the end of the world unless they work together. If these people don't drop their biases, they're toast.
[He shakes his head.]
I was thinking this would be some kind of "help the short guy toss a ring into the volcano" or "get the princess to the ball" kind of thing, bim bam bibbidi bobbidi boom, but I've got a bad feeling about all this. In my gut. [Peter slaps a hand on his gut.] And it's a very sensitive gut.
no subject
Yeah, [ he agrees, ] that's pretty much what I was expecting. Uh, more the volcano quests than the princess thing.
[ and he'll avoid commenting on peter's gut, sensitivity or otherwise. but the humor passes, and he drums his fingers against some spare wood. ]
That might be what the queen called us here for. Except I don't know what she expects us to do about her own country's problems. It won't be as easy as convincing everyone to work together.
[ it wasn't enough for the roman and greek demigods, even when they had the end of the world staring them down. the ancient rift had to be healed, old grudges mended first. and he has this nagging feeling that there is something else, something she hasn't told them yet. ]
There's still too much we don't know about this place.
[ gods, he sounds like annabeth; and gods, he wishes she were here. ]
no subject
[The tone is dry but the dryness is at the situation. It's not sarcasm. Lots of people Percy's age would've bought what they were told without questioning so it's a credit to him that he's questioning it.]
[Peter hammers down a tile, neatly putting each nail in with only a single small tap.]
I'll be honest, I only took the deal because I thought I'd been knocked unconscious and that I was dreaming. Or that I'd been shot in the head without realizing and that it was some weird little segue into the afterlife fueled by a lifetime of way too many nerd movies.
[Why he'd been in a position to worry about getting shot, he didn't say.]
I only half-thought it was real.
Only reason I'm staying at this point is I'm a little concerned about there being a group of people that have been help-me-Obi-Wanned into going to an alien world to help strange people with unknown motives against an unnamed threat.
[A pause.]
Plus I had nothing else going on.
[Miles had gotten control of the super-collider and was ready to be his world's Spider-Man, the other spiders could go back home, and Peter didn't have much of a life to go back to.]
I don't like it. I've been help-me-Obi-Wanned into a shady situation that wasn't what I'd been told more times than I'd like to admit. I don't want to see it happen to anyone else.
1/2
which are going to be. filed away for the time being. but, honestly, a lot of it is all too relatable. ]
no subject
[ there being a group of people that have been help-me-Obi-Wanned into going to an alien world to help strange people with unknown motives against an unnamed threat.
percy has to bite back the urge to say story of my life. because, honestly (alien worlds aside). if it isn't one of the gods, it's another; if it's not titans, it's giants, or evil gods, or ancient roman emperors, or plain old monsters. this queen had reminded percy powerfully of hecate, for all that he barely knows the goddess -- that's really hazel's department -- and he still doesn't quite buy that she's some mortal woman with a gemstone. ]
I know what you mean. [ which is an admission, despite himself. ] It's important we look out for each other. It's not like anyone else is going to do it for us, and we're all in the same boat. Even the queen is only going to want us around as long as we're useful to her, and there's no telling if she actually cares what happens to us as long as she gets what she wants. Little details like how many of us survive might not be real high on her list of priorities.
no subject
[...No, it's definitely more perceptive. Peter knows his younger self was kind of an idiot sometimes, and definitely a ridiculous human being at all times. This kid sounds sensible.]
[He stops working, tilts his head, looks at Percy sidelong, lips pursed together.]
You're definitely not new at this.
[This isn't some kid with no experience that had jumped at the call.]
[Teenagers being some kind of hero or another dealing with some kind of bullshit is not a new concept to him. He was one. But in his universe, he was basically the only one. It's only recently, upon meeting people from other universes, that he's been exposed to other teen heroes.]
[And it's strange. He feels like a unicorn that's only just now met other, younger unicorns, after spending centuries alone in the wilds thinking he was the only one of his kind. How many glittery rainbow tears had he shed through the years trying to struggle through it all, thinking he was alone in carrying those kinds of burdens?]
[How young they all seem also niggles at him a little bit. A part of him wants to say, "there's nothing strange here because there was nothing strange when you did it." Another part of him wants to wrap them all in cotton and make sure they don't even so much as stub a toe. The only way to reconcile the second feeling is admitting the first one is wrong - admitting that he was too young, too innocent, when he started out.]
[Or maybe the only way to reconcile it is admitting he was too young and deciding to mine from the hardships of figuring it all out the hard way. Helping them have backup and helping them avoid the same mistakes, same rough spots, same hurts.]
[He's already mapped out that minefield, left pockmarked earth in his wake. What if that means he can help kids like Miles and Gwen find a safe path?]
no subject
he's briefly tempted to say, yeah, and neither are you -- but of course, peter's already admitted to that, hasn't he? it's percy who was trying to keep it under wraps. sort of, anyway; more like force of habit than anything else. people don't usually respond to the whole my dad's an ancient greek god thing too well.
there's no point to lying, so he only hesitates for a beat, jaw tight. ]
Yeah, [ he says at last. ] you could say that. You aren't the only one who's dealt with mysterious, magical you're-our-only-hope types before.
no subject
[He watched his own funeral, for crying out loud.]
[He looks at the roof as he works it all out in his head, the mental algebra of owning up to over twenty years of closely guarded secrets weighed against potentially helping other young people that are like he used to be.]
[His brain solves for X.]
Normally, I'm not so open about this but it's been a weird few days for me. Like, really weird. Like, indescribably weird.
[He suddenly feels awkward and exposed but continues with what he was going to say, as he starts laying out more tiles.]
I'm a superhero. I've been one of the only ones in my world since around your age. Started out when I was sixteen.
[He shakes his head.]
Which means meeting kids that are dealing with similar weirdness at that age is surreal. Like looking in a funhouse mirror. I don't whether to high five you or try and kick you back through a portal home.
no subject
[ what a weird thought, for him. it's not actually any weirder than anything he's seen or done, up to and including magical summons to a different world, but that's a new one.
he definitely has to stop himself from asking if peter has a cape. ]
That's a long time to be doing this.
no subject
[There's a tacit implication there that you look really old. But Peter's not actually upset. He knows he's going gray, knows he's getting some wrinkles, knows his physique isn't what it used to be. His voice is light and his mouth is quirked just slightly in a small smile.]
There aren't really many superhero movies where I'm from. I'm one of the only ones, and even after twenty-two years New York can't decide if they love me or hate me. I swear it changes every week.
It's not exactly the kind of thing that inspires a biopic or even fiction.
[He's curious now.]
If superheroes are only something in movies where you come from, then what is it that you do? Slay some dragons? Trek some stars? What genre are we talking about here?
no subject
[ percy'd been impressed, more than trying to take a shot at this guy. thing is, demigods rarely live past 20, let alone reach peter's age. it's a small miracle percy's made it to 17. so the fact that peter's been a hero longer than most demigods live?
yeah, that's a long time to be doing this. ]
Uh, more dragons than stars. Lots of monsters. The occasional giant, Titan, or pissed-off god. That's the Greek and Roman gods, for the record.
no subject
[He's had a little magical nonsense but nothing consistent.]
I've run into magic before but most of mine are crimelords, people mutated by superscience accidents, and people using super advanced - and occasionally nightmarish - technology to do horrible things. Also, occasional aliens.
[A pause.]
And a lot of animal-themed ones for some reason. Never quite figured out why. I know most of them didn't know each other or team up until after I kept kicking their butts [He briefly waves the hand with the hammer in it] but it's like they coordinated with each other.
no subject
That sounds pretty annoying. [ and a lot...like the movies, actually. ] And aliens? Geez. We don't have those, at least.
[ he doesn't think they do. he really hopes not. the last thing he wants is having to fight aliens on top of everything else. ]
And you said all of these guys are in New York?
[ he'd heard about alternate worlds and junk, but that's still a weird thought. ]
no subject
Usually secret bad guy buildings come in one of those flavors.
[He doesn't travel in some high tech jet or something, though.]
Luckily, the bus lines run pretty frequently.
[Though getting the money together for the bus is sometimes a challenge.]
How about you? How did you get into whatever it is you're involved in?
no subject
his uncles are real loving like that.
he breathes out, wondering how much of the truth he wants to give. peter's being more than forthcoming, but force of habit keeps percy from sharing everything just yet. ]
Uh, honestly? [ he shrugs; and his answer is honest. ] Someone stole Zeus's master bolt when I was twelve, and I got framed for it. Turned out that same person also stole Hades's Helm of Darkness. Three guesses who he blamed.
[ percy's wry smile is probably enough of an indicator. ]
I had to go on a quest to get them both back before the gods started an all-out war that could've destroyed the world.
[ he speaks so casually he could be discussing the weather, not an averted apocalypse. but that was five years and two wars ago, an entire lifetime, and in retrospect his problems back then seem so small. he'd barely known who he was, let alone kronos or gaea or anything that came after. ]
no subject
[It takes his brain to catch up to one little factoid there. He's old now and not as quick on the uptake as he used to be.]
Wait. [He stops cold, looking up at Percy with an expression that's a little heartsick. He'd thought maybe the kid had been only doing this for a year or two, but...]
You were twelve? And somebody framed you, thereby sucking you into what I can only assume was some high stakes, life-or-death adventure?
no subject
[ he blows out a breath. the look on peter's face makes him uncomfortable, even if it's understandable. by normal mortal standards, that's pretty crazy. who'd set up a kid like that? and who'd expect a kid to travel cross county and into the underworld with just a couple of other kids and some magical weapons for help?
but age doesn't mean much to gods or monsters. bianca di angelo was twelve when she fell in combat, saving percy's life. annabeth was only seven when she ran away from home. jason had practically been a toddler when his mom gave him to the wolves.
he slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out a ballpoint pen, taps it against the tiles. in this form, riptide looks nothing like the blade it becomes when percy uncaps it. ]
Pretty much, yeah.
no subject
[Where were the adults? There had to have been adults somewhere in the mix, gods and demigods and heroes. Why weren't they pulling all the weight?]
[Peter hadn't had any adults involved in his superheroing, but only because he'd shut them out, didn't tell Aunt May what he was up to until he was older. And even with thinking a teenager can handle a lot, the way he did, there are still limits and boundaries. There's a reason he webbed Miles to a chair to keep him from coming with the other spider-people to fight to shut down the super-collider - he wasn't ready. He was too new to his powers. He was too scared - an absolutely understandable and natural state of being, especially for someone so young.]
[Twelve. Twelve. For crying out loud.]
[But the look he gives Percy isn't just the soft look that comes of an adult's heart aching over a wrong committed against a child. There's massive respect there, too.]
I'll admit it, I'm impressed, kid. Nobody should've dragged you into that that young, but the fact you're still standing says a lot.
no subject
[ because he has to say it. how could he have survived his first quest, if not for annabeth and grover? or all the other quests, over the years? what about tyson? bianca di angelo, zoe nightshade, charles beckendorf, bob, damasen, and others who died so that he -- and other demigods -- could live? every name etched onto the beat on his necklace memorializing the battle of manhattan. the crew of the argo ii. percy's had friends and comrades on his side every step of the way, and thank the gods for that. ]
maybe a wrap with Percy's next comment?
[He'll be eternally grateful for the ways MJ and Aunt May supported him. But he'd always been out there, mostly alone, taking one hit after another, always having to get back up again. Because if he didn't, there would've been no one else that could've saved whoever and whatever it was that had needed saving. What made that scary was the stakes - sometimes the whole city was at risk. Sometimes the world. Sometimes, like this last time, it was worlds. And until now, he'd rarely had much help when it was him standing between good people and certain doom.]
[This kid is far from home and likely far from a good chunk of the people that had helped him before. Chances are, he might get knocked in the dirt here, and Peter doesn't want to see him having to drag himself back to his feet without any help.]
[He'd never gotten a hand up - not until he'd met Miles and the other spiders.]
[This softness is new, something recently coaxed to the surface. Peter's not exactly looking to become everyone's overprotective big brother, but if it turns out like that anyway, he's not going to fight it.]
You'll have some here, too, kid. Anytime you need it. Whether that's help in a fight or help getting ready for one.