agentleooc | test drive 01

'Cause I have these new fears I carry with me
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.

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Oh, it's on.]

You try waking up in that shit and see what kind of mood you're in.

[It's her own fault, but that's not the point here. The point is that somebody's talking shit and going to get what's coming to them. Of course that person could be Mordred too, but it goes without saying that thought doesn't occur to her.]

And we'll see who beats who, I ain't getting my ass kicked by you!

[ her lips curve into a slight smirk, rolling her shoulders casually. it's a look that tells mordred that she wouldn't be that much of a dumbass to find out (even though she definitely is, 1000%). ]

Let's see if you're all talk!

[ her words are punctuated by a sudden lunge forward, sword drawn in the process. she keeps it simple, a test of her dexterity — namely, is mordred going to dodge, block, or counter. ]

[Dodging, that's funny. Doesn't even enter her mind as instead, she chooses to push forward and block with her own blade. Though that's if what she's doing can really be considered blocking, it's more the equivalent of a sledgehammer like swing into Zero's sword than trying to parry.]

Yeah, same to you!

[Not really the most eloquent response, but who has time for eloqence. Or technique for that matter. You want that, go find and fight Tristan or something.]

[ it's bold, it's clumsy, it's— gutsy, but a powermove that zero both loathes and admires in others. the only difference here is that she doesn't know how she pits against others. in the world of intoners, dragons, and humans, zero was among the strongest, especially when she had a dragon by her side.

here, she has only an opal jewel to guide her. as far as she's aware, it's yet to show its usefulness.

her attack is parried, and it earns the girl before her a toothy grin. were her blade made of steel, surely the sheer force of mordred's swing would have broken it. she's — strong, to say the least, and zero is becoming fairly aware that she is among those who are equal if not stronger than her in power. being an intoner... or a skeleton of an intoner has no bearings here.

it's a blessing, to say the least.

zero lowers herself toward the grown, one knee bent and the other leg extends. she pivots her body in into a full spin, hoping that the contact with mordred's feet will knock her right off it. ]

[Mordred's in much the same boat. She's got an opal jewel, she got the intro jewel infodump so she's not going to accidentally explode herself or whatever it does, but she hasn't actually put much time into figuring out how to use it beyond not...doing that. Maybe someday she'll do something with some of those things for the jewel page, but for now she's just relying on her own skills as much as she can.]

Eh?!

[She wasn't expecting a sweep, but she's not going to move. She doesn't cede ground if she can help it. So instead, she'll slam her blade into the ground, between her leg and Zero's hoping that sweep will be blocked by the flat of the blade. And then she's going to kick at that bent knee, trying to drop her sparring partner.

This isn't the best strategy because if Zero can take out her sword, Mordred's still getting knocked on her ass. And if she can't, she's got to pull the sword out of the ground before she can use it again. But she's not really thinking about that so much as she's thinking about not getting her legs kicked out from under her. That's way more important.]

[ interesting... an infodump on the jewels... that zero probably can't remember because she has trouble retaining information when she's an impatient little bitch. will probably revisit later —

all in all, the jewel puts them pretty even in power, so neither of them has an advantage over eachother. this doesn't come as a surprise to her, at least; the girl knows what she's doing, and she's good at what she's doing. zero is a fighter, and while she was never trained properly, it's easy for her to detect a strong opponent when she sees one.

zero's pupil shrinks at the sight of the unexpected blade in her path. it was too late to stop the momentum at that point, and the she inadvertently kicks straight into the sharp of the steel with an angry cry. blood gushes from her shin as the blade implants into her flesh — but it's a familiar sight. it's not an intoner fight without a little blood-stained dress.

she has to act quick. it's to awkward to pull her sword out, but she is in a fine position to ram her head directly into the girl's torso in a barbaric headbutt of sort. if she makes contact, at least she'll have time to tear her lead from the blade.... ]

[The downside of fighting like Mordred is that she doesn't really expect anyone else to fight like her. So the headbutt catches her off guard and there's just this surprised yell of “fuck!” when she catches a head to the torso.

It's enough to stagger her as she steps back almost automatically, trying to keep her hand on her blade, both to not be caught without a weapon and to steady herself. For a moment it looks like she's going to keep her grip, but no, her hand slips! Curse that D rank luck.]

[ it's fine, zero might not have the complicated luck ranking system, but her life proves to be a pretty unlucky existence. the handslip helps zero tear away from the commotion, disengaging her shin from the blade with a loud fuck! of her own, and she staggers backwards to collect herself. she's bleeding from her leg, but she doesn't seem done just yet. ]

For a girl dressed as a knight, you sure fight like a fucking rookie!

[She's already mad from the rude wake up call. And normally that rookie comment alone would be enough to piss her off further. So what if her fighting style's not exactly graceful...or even something that could really be called a style? It gets the job done!

But that comment about being a girl dressed like a knight really gets to her. It's like she said she's just some dumb girl playing dress up, not the knight who brought down Camelot, and certainly not the heir to Arthur's throne. Which is her going way further with it than it was almost certainly intended, but for Mordred it's like hearing that hit her issues harder than that headbutt hit her.

And she gave Kairi a chance when he accidentally stepped on that landmine, but she's pissed off about the whole thing so she's just going from about a five or six on the anger scale to a ten, red lightning crackling around her as she prepares to launch herself at Zero, training or sparring or whatever this be damned. It's a bad idea since even with the Opal jewel, it's going to leave her open to attack afterwards, but she's not really thinking straight right now.]

You're dead!

[Probably really clear that she's not thinking straight now as she pretty much snarls that threat, using one of her abilities to launch herself at Zero, moving faster than she should be able to, not even caring about the grabbing the sword on the way over there. It's like the equivalent of a tiny car speeding at her, looking to run down anything in its path and dead set into crashing into something.]

test drive 01

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tw: blood

it's towards the bottom of the FAQ, I think

ty friend...

no problem!