agentleooc | test drive 01

Entry tags:

!modpost,
!tdm

test drive 01

'Cause I have these new fears I carry with me
So you can feel stronger, you can know peace

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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

GOOD MORNING, DRAEGA (ii)

[Hahaha... It's really cute that someone thinks Mollymauk Tealeaf is going to roll over and behave like a soldier. He signed up for something (due to not having much of a choice with the way things were going), but it wasn't this. So, naturally, he just pulls the covers over his head and grumbles.

Twenty minutes later, there is a drenched, shivering purple tiefling marching into the field and pulling two fancy scimitars out of their respective sheathes on his side. One is a very pretty gold color, while the other has a gaudy hilt bedecked with gems. He faces his opponent and gives a kind of manic grin.

He really didn't think this was gonna be conscription, so much as it was trying to do right by some universe in the hopes that he can do better for his own. That's sort of on him. He's still going to be irritated.]

Good morning. I'd like to apologize ahead of time for however this goes, because today has not started off quite the way I thought it would. No hard feelings?

[He's kind of a cheating little fucker in a fight most days, and he tends to get kinda violent when pressed. It's fine.]

CHARITY IS AS CHARITY DOES

[Here's the thing- Molly doesn't like privilege. In fact, he kind of despises it. The political situation here is kind of beyond him, but while he wants doesn't necessarily disagree with the Blood mentality, there's a lot he doesn't agree with- specifically the fact that this auction seems to cater to people who are capable of doing their own shit. They've got magic, even if it's of a lower tier.

At first, he's willing to joke about it, waiting for his turn on the stage with the rest of the pairs to be auctioned off.]

You know, if they're going to pay for something, you'd think they'd be more creative than this. It's uninspired and a bit lazy, if I'm honest.

[Only to become a little more contrary when he's actually onstage, not even considering the opinions of his partner as he kneels down on the edge of the stage, ignoring the bidding war in favor of the two hovering alongside.]

'Scuse me! Yes, you, good sir. What's your bid? [He looks back at his partner like he fully expects them to either assist or try and stop him. Choose wisely, friend.]

HIT AND RUN

[You go for a walk and you find puppy kickers. It's just like Wildemount. It's enough to make Molly sigh, foisting his meat pie on the nearest person- ideally you, fair stranger, who is minding your own business.] Hold this, please.

[And in Molly wades, hip and shoulder checking people out of the way until he's right in the thick of things in all his flamboyant, colorful glory.] Gentlepersons, is there some kind of a problem? Because while I'm absolutely certain the dog is more charming to your lovers than any of you will ever be, that's absolutely no reason to beat anything to death in the bloody street.

[He scans the crowd, looking for anyone who agrees and might step up. If not, he's gonna do this on his own. And it'll be a good show.]

MR FORTUNE TELLER

[In a little tavern tucked away, Molly has found himself a table and is presently laying out his Tarot cards in a spread, trying to suss out if he's made the right choice. If it was between a chance to help the rest of the Nein and dying in the snow, then of course it has to be right, but it's... officially complicated. Way more complicated than it should be. He fiddles with his jewel as he studies the cards he's laid out. Opal. His favorite, actually, which is nice- opals are for clarity, and yet nothing really seems clear.

He heaves a melodramatic sigh and shuffles them all back. Well, nothing more to be done about that, then. Time to see what he's working with here. He snaps his fingers to get the attention of someone passing by.] You there! You look like someone in dire need of a fresh perspective.

[ nureyev is hard-pressed to find any pleasantries in his mood, drenched and trying to shake off the chill as he's made to face off against someone he can't quite catch sight of until he adjusts his glasses just so. of course. he has two... swords? sure. he likes an unfair fight, odds like this give him a little thrill. thankfully, the unceremonious dumping into chilled water is enough to give nureyev all the edge he really needs, confidence to take on these odds. practice or no. ]

Why, none at all. It appears you and I have found ourselves in unfortunately similar circumstances. Wet. Cold -

[ he flicks his wrist softly and from his sleeve comes an oblong object, and out of that oblong object, the lean, black shape of a blade. ]

- I'll be pleased to make your acquaintance after all of this is settled.

[Molly gives his head a good shake, splattering cold water in a few different directions in what's a bit too childish to be a proper threat display. Really, he just wanted to get his dripping wet hair out of his face without dropping his swords in the most theatrical way possible.

At least he got an interesting-looking one. They can share style tips later, assuming they don't claw each others' faces off. You never really know when dealing with wet cats.]

I look forward to it. [He grins, cheeky now, more than irritated, abd leaps in, choosing not to activate either blade for what's strictly a practice fight- he's not supposed to be making it easier to murder someone, after all, but one has to admit that cutting yourself on your own blades to power them up has a certain intimidation factor. Does he get stronger when he bleeds?? What am I facing?? A good reaction, but not necessary at the moment.

He feints to the left and then spins the golden hilt of Summer's Dance around in his hand before driving down to test how fast his opponent can block with that black blade he's got up his sleeve. As a carnie with his own tricks up his sleeve, he can't help but be curious.]

[ wet cats is the best way to put it really - nureyev can practically feel hackles rising before smoothing out in his typical fashion, pushing it all down in favor of the present, which looks to be far more entertaining that he thought it might be. there's a thrill to a fight, after all, especially one where your opponent is already taking the first steps in what looks like a rather beautiful and quick dance.

there's no adrenaline rush here, just an observation of movement before he moves in himself. they're old-fashioned blades with a pretty curve to them, and as one moves in to slash downwards at him, he holds up his own blade to parry, the hilt of it slipping into his palm from his sleeve like an old friend. ]

Oh that is lovely now isn't it?

[ a compliment before he pushes off with a strength built on years of climbing and running, moving since he's woefully outnumbed in the department of weapons. it's no dance, but it's sleek and catlike, a blend of economizing his movements to maximize their benefit and staying out of the way of his opponent's blades. ]

I like the dagger. Nice choice. [Molly grins, as he gets the full effect of the shape of the weapons he's wielding against. Molly skids back against the surprising amount of strength- he's lithe and with barely any strength to speak of, all he can do is dance around and press in and out of range.

He may have decided not to activate the blades, but no one said he couldn't use Summer's Dance's special powers. He gives his opponent a wink and then phases out, appearing again right behind him. Rather than take the strike, he just whistles sharply to get his attention. He's decided to play with this- it's better than being angry and actually gutting someone on accident.]

Over here.

[The Miqo'te is here for an entirely different kind of card-playing, looking for a way to get some coin through gambling if he can-- he can always learn how people play cards here. But his attention is taken up by someone who already has a spread happening... All on his own?

What are those, fortune-telling cards? Not like any cards he's seen before, definitely, and especially not like a Sharlayan astrologian's. Rhus leans over, tail quirking in interest.]

It's that what the cards tell you? [Half a tease, half curious. He never fully got started with his astrologian training after all.]

[Almost in response, Molly's own tail flicks a bit. Look, when you see a person who also has a tail, sometimes there has to be silent tail solidarity.

He steeples his fingers under his chin, beaming like he's already won some great victory.] No, that's what my eyes tell me. I just know the look of someone who isn't certain what they've gotten into.

[That's a cheap cold read. Molly hasn't met anyone who agreed to the Call that knows what they're doing.]

[Given how often he rubs shoulders with other tailed folk, Rhus tends to forget that the tailless outnumber them by so much-- though here in Draega he's woefully reminded of that fact. Being the only feline man around is terrible.]

I've an idea of what could or may happen. [He sits down however, tucking his tail onto his lap and leaning his elbows on the surface of the table.]

But go right ahead.

[Molly gives the cards a shuffle. It's clean- not necessarily because he thinks he might be caught, but because if it's not for money, he might as well see what the cards give him without interference. It's a good way to test the waters- one could call it a social experiment. Plus it keeps his observational skills sharp and he's going to need those in this place.

He shuffles twice more and then lays down three cards.] I always like to start with the most simple, basic read. The more elaborate ones tend to cost something. And even these ones usually cost a few coppers, but today only? My treat.

[He beams.] Three cards. Near past, present, and near future. [He flips over the first- The Moon. When he speaks, it's with a theatrical cadence to his lilting accent.] You- or perhaps someone close to you, or a even a situation- is not what it appears to be. There have been illusions in your life that have needed to be stripped away and discarded. You may have been uncertain of what is real and what is not.

[He turns over the second card- the Ace of Swords.] And in cutting through these illusions, you have come to realize you have a great power within- one that can be used for good or evil. You have reached a point where you've had a great spiritual breakthrough in how you want to wield yourself with either your sword or your heart.

[And the last card- the Ten of Wands.] But all of this can be completely exhausting. Be careful in how you wield yourself and be mindful of how much energy you're wasting on pointless tasks. Sometimes you need to know when to walk away. There are some battles that can't be won, some circumstances that can't be overpowered. Recognize those and you'll save yourself some grief in the future.

MOLLYMAUK TEALEAF | CRITICAL ROLE

good morning, draega (ii)

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mr fortune teller

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charity

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Mr Fortune Teller bring me a vision, make them the cutest that I've ever seen

[a capella in a minor key intensifies]

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mr. fortune teller

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sorta wildcarding, sorta fortune tellering, you know, as you do

i'm crying.

shows up 15 days late with starbucks like sup

i'm still gonna tag this because i can