TEST DRIVE MEME

[theflaws]

TEST DRIVE MEME

PREMISE PLOT ARRIVAL SETTING NAVIGATION

01. ARRIVING IN PELEA
A cold wind singing down from the white-capped mountains which hang blue-black in the distance stirs your cheek, the tall grass all around you. A bough creaks as the wind makes it tremble, and the dappled shadows drift over you, leaves rustling. As you blink awake, you hear the quiet hiss of water over stones. You are not where you once were!

You and a large group of strangers are blinking awake, pulling yourselves up off the dirt, grass, and rubble near a small wooded stream. There is no evidence of civilization in sight, and as you exchange stories you realize that you must decide what to do.

Will you head past the trees and towards the mountains? Deeper into the forest? Stay put and wait for help to arrive? You might even try to meet everyone else, and either convince them to band together... or head their separate ways.

02. CITY SLICKER
There are many cities throughout the world of Pelea, and in most player characters, the Flaws, are welcomed as curiosities. From the pastoral villages or bustling, grand cities of Shousal to the massive, sprawling bureaucratic centers of the Empire, your characters will find a wide variety of cultures and races to interact with and investigate. They could be seeking empoyment, answers to the mystery of their arrival, or a quiet place to drink away their worries.

03. WILDCARD!

Comments

[nockgun]

Harper had a chuckle at that. "Well heaven save us all, you've got some sense in you." He lifted his canteen. "Here's to the king."

He drank once more, already seeming to have forgotten the whole incident with the knife already.

[circleprodigy]

The question is asked, but Inessa isn't certain if she expects a true answer. When she hears the sound of hooves, the elven woman initially thinks that perhaps Garahel found them a wild hart or stray horse. It wouldn't be the first time, though not in this world. That said hooves are attacked to a horse's body and a humanoid torso...well, that's new.

The grip on her staff slackens slightly in her shock, and her eyes widen a touch, clearly not expecting the sight before her and initially unable to process it. Then his words sink in, and realizing that he has manners, recalls her own. Clearing her throat, Inessa straightens her staff, no longer pointing it directly at him. (Though she wonders if he would even have found that threatening at all. Compared to her, he's so very large.) Bowing her head in a polite nod, she at last finds her words. The commanding tone is gone for now, replaced by a much more soft-spoken one.

"Ah, so our game of fetch made more noise than anticipated. If we have disturbed your home, I apologize. We will only be here for the night, though you're welcome to our fire while we--Garahel, stop that. Give him space." The mabari hound, deciding that this new person isn't a threat after a moment, heads over to sniff at him, curious and friendly in a way that tends to ignore or forget about personal space bubbles. Hearing his mistress, he pauses and glances back, letting out a soft whine.

"He means well, truly, but I'm aware that not everyone is used to his brand of friendliness." Well, not unless they're Fereldan...and this newcomer very clearly isn't.

[vannerbond]

Ilai is still in some bit of shock at the sight of them. The closer the beast got, the more he realized it wasn't a stone-hound, but instead something of fur and flesh, but no less impressive in its size. He doesn't give into the urge to shift his hooves.

He holds out a hand, easily. "It is all right," he assures her. "Ever as he does not view my flank as a tasty treat, he does no harm." Then he looks back over to the tiny woman--if she is indeed one, but Ilai is not so sure whether she is some form of human or another being of the wilds more like himself. She is what he would imagine a fae to be, tiny and slight, but the look of her is not as flippant and innocent as he had been told to expect in his own world.

"This wood belongs not to me, for I am merely a traveler through it, but I thought best to face the potential danger than avoid it on the chance it would not follow." He's trying to appear as unimposing as possible, but it is not easy consider the distinct difference in their statures. "Are you as new to this land as I?"

[dipendente]

[ Well. That definitely had her attention.

She watches him strangely as he watches her. She's no real threat to him. Not with her powers stripped and still weaponless. All things she would change with time. She doesn't know about him, though, and she makes sure to measure the distance between them with each step he takes. ]

Lark.

Who are you? [ And abruptly. ] And what are you?

[bittertaste]

[Rather suddenly, he finds himself excited and it shows in the way he starts to smile. It isn't a malicious smile, rather it is quite cheerful in contrast to his ghastly appearance.

With the fear of the afterlife mostly dissipated, he could find room to be pleased that someone could see and talk to him!]

Thank you! My name is Bastjin and I an a Sin Eater.

(ooc: does she have regrets or sins that he might be able to 'sense'? Not know what they are of course)

[dipendente]

( ooc: so many sins but not nearly as many regrets! )

[ He smiles and it's definitely something genuine. It makes her nearly frown in response. A shame. She was more curious when she thought he was a threat.

Not that she relaxes her guard entirely, or that her curiosity wanes away completely. ]

You'll have to be more specific. I've heard of many creatures, but a Sin Eater is not among them.

[sinuosity]

[ Her eyebrows tick upwards, and the curve of her mouth turns amused. ]

Oh? For whom?

[bittertaste]

[He remains oblivious to her disappointment. He does, however realize the familiar, sickly sweet scent of sin emanating from her. It's presence is not a surprise, but how potent it is is slightly jarring.

He quickly regains his composure.]

In life, I spent my days wandering and taking on the sins of those that were dying or had already passed on. When I eventually died, I continued to do that.

[A slight pause as he looked her over carefully. What had she done in her lifetime?]

I no longer limit that to the already dead or dying. I offer it to the living when I can.

[circleprodigy]

The potential of viewing him as a treat seems to produce a reaction from Garahel, who recoils and huffs, repulsed. Reminded of another companion cracking jokes to her mabari about canniblism and being met with the same reaction, Inessa's lips twitch. "Mabari are rather intelligent and can understand much of what we say. Very little escapes him...and the only being he likes to hunt are those which can't speak."

Inessa relaxes slightly, glad that they're not actually intruding with their little campsite. She had selected this spot precisely because it seemed isolated, unlikely to belong to anyone. At that question, she perks up and nods. "Yes, actually. We arrived recently, through a...well, a rift, filled with glowing energy. I can describe it no better, not having seen anything of its like before. Is that what happened to you, as well? Do you know why this happens?"

[vannerbond]

Another soul lost in whatever enchantment has brought him here? There's a sense of camaraderie, and some of the tension from his body. His tail flicks lightly against his hind quarters and he doesn't hesitate to move closer to the fire now.

"Aye, 'tis the same predicament as my own," he nods. "The magic of the wood fell upon me and I awoke at a stream here in this land that has little likeness. I know not how I came to be here, or what path they would have us walk, but it is a strange land indeed."

[nomanbutme]

[In seeing her smile, Charles responds in kind, but his is a little predatory. Jack's always saying that Charles smiling meant danger ahead.]

For myself. For my crew.

[nomanbutme]

[Breathing out slowly to avoid wincing too much, Charles clenches his jaw at the groan that escapes him involuntarily. He's lightheaded, and his skin is starting to feel clammy, but he works through it, focusing on his breathing.]

No, it's fine, I can.

[Carefully, he goes for the bandage and starts pulling at it, dried and coagulated blood sticking between the fabric and his skin, making it a painful, slow task. Her eyes are focused on his ribs as he exposes the gash further, his jaw muscles twitching as he grinds his teeth, attempting to offset the pain, to not much success.

Eventually, though, the bandage is off and the wound is plainly exposed, looking raw as it moves with Charles' ragged breaths.

Cauterizing it would have taken several applications of his blade to it. While the situation he's in now - with a stranger now knowing where he lives, and with a lot more control over him than Charles is comfortable with - sucks, it still feels preferable to his other option.]

You should see the other guy. [He attempts to smirk, but winces instead.]

[dipendente]

[ The situation seemed to be getting more annoying by the minute. She nearly groans at the explanation. "Taking on the sins" of those in life. A priest or something? It didn't really matter, in life or death. ]

What's the point of doing that? [ Humor her, really. ] So that people can die with a clear conscious?

What's a sin to one person isn't a sin to others.

[circleprodigy]

She can't help but nod in complete agreement, a wry smile on her lips. "Very much so. I mentioned my mabari's name before my own, didn't I? I'm Inessa Surana, Warden-Commander of...well. It doesn't matter now, I suppose." She'll have to get used to leaving that title off, since she's not in any position of authority here. For all she knows, the world might not have any need of Grey Wardens. "We travel to seek answers, and hopefully find a means to return to where we're needed."

[bittertaste]

[His pleasant smile faded in the wake of those questions. Skeptics were hardly new, but they were always an interesting experience.]

Not exactly. It is so that when they die, they can move on to whatever awaits them. Sometimes they cannot do that without help.

[If he still breathed, he might have let out an exasperated sigh.]

Whether they do or not doesn't matter most of the time. All actions have consequences and some of them leave their marks... You bear some of those marks as well.

[allusive]

[ She holds her breath as he strips the bandage off, eyes on the wound itself. No signs of infection just yet. This happened not so long ago. Alysia moves to soak one of the clothes in the warming water, wringing it out of all excess water before she returns to his side. Grateful her dress has no sleeves, lest she get blood on them, she goes to sit beside him on the bed. There's no hesitation or shyness; she nods with her chin for him to move his arm so she can begin cleaning the wound and staunching what blood she can. ]

I have a hope that the other person is rotting in an alleyway or in a barrel.

[ Alysia takes her time, careful with the tenderness of the skin. She is no doctor, not even a field medic, but she knows how to care for her own wounds. Once satisfied, she stands to go to her bag, the materials within it, before returning to the water. Hot enough by now, she pours some into...a rum tankard (because tea cups are clearly too good for his standing) and prepares it with the Eaphine. Only then does she return, pressing the cup into his hands as she begins to wheel out some of the thread she has. ]

Drink. It won't do much for the moment but it will dull the pain.

[nomanbutme]

[Pulling his arm over his head, Charles keeps grinding his teeth as Alysia cleans the wound as best she can. He looks down, the ragged edges of the gash looking a ghastly white now the blood is washed off them, a stark contrast to his deeply tanned skin. It crosses through another scar - one of the myriad Charles has collected from childhood. He wouldn't be able to say where it comes from.

Her response makes him let out an amused grunt.] Bottom of the harbor, actually.

[He watches her intently as she moves through his space - he's hardly let any woman do that in the past, besides Anne, and Eleanor. But Alysia sniffs at cups and prepares tea in what passes at his kitchen, and Charles lets her, takes the tankard when she hands it to him, sips at the scalding liquid without a word.

He knows he owes her for this, so the least he can do is be as good a patient as he can.]

I can deal with some pain, just do it.

[sinuosity]

[ No assassin fears danger. No child of Ra's al Ghul entertains fear at all. Nyssa's smile in turn is sharper. If there is something predatory on the surface, it yawns, shows fangs, and circles. ]

A captain? Of a ship? You don't look like a trader.

[sinuosity]

[ Amusement flickers across her expression at the deference. The last thing she is or expects to be described as, but people have their ways. ]

My heart is with the recurve.

[ More powerful and efficient. ]

Where was your brother's heart, and what of your own?

[sinuosity]

[ It's not an odd question. She tilts her head. ]

The coin is mine, you may take any horses you find if you wish.

[allusive]

[ That garners a brief and derisive snort. ]

Fitting.

[ And discreet. He knows what he's doing. Alysia takes great care to thread the needle she has and she briefly returns to the stove to put it in the boiling water, clean it and sterilize it as best she can before she returns. When it has cooled, she begins. The process is a delicate one but she works as quickly as she might. She has no surgeon's precision but that of a woman who has learned to embroider - and who has applied the technique to other cuts and wounds the past. He looks poor in the face, a sign of blood loss, and he will need to rest for at least the next day to feel somewhat better.

At length, she finishes, and ties off the wound as best she can. She rises to get the next set of herbs. ]

If it opens, you'd be best suited to wash it in alcohol - as clean as possible - and cauterize. But this should serve.

[ A little bit of water goes into the second set of herbs she's bought, which she brings back with her. ]

This will keep it from getting infected and spur healing. You'll want to put it on every time you change your bandage. If the thread breaks, falls out, or if the wound opens, you can wrap some of the mixture into a cloth soaked in hot water and wrung out. It will help.

[ It will scar, undoubtedly, but the main issue will always be infection. A man can die from blood loss as easily as he can die from infection. ]

It would be best to rest for at least a day.

[sinuosity]

Yes.

[ In helicopters and planes, though that's probably not what the magician means. ]

That's a very clever trick.

[ A lifetime of scepticism wins out over a display, naturally. ]

[nomanbutme]

[There's something dangerous about this girl - she reminds Charles of Anne, in some ways, in good ways. Anne may be a brash, crude individual, with questionable taste in men, but she also is the kind of graceful in the way she kills that always impressed Charles. He wouldn't be surprised if the lady in front of him showed the same kind of grace.]

Captain Charles Vane, of the Revenge.

[He chuckles.] And what should a trader look like, exactly?

[nomanbutme]

I take it you approve?

[Charles raises an eyebrow at Alysia, almost surprised by the snort - she seems very intent on keeping an unreadable facade. He's glad to have managed to get a reaction from her.

The stitching is hell - Charles closes his eyes and wishes he had something to bite on, but as it is, takes to fisting his hand into the blanket under him as she works. Despite the tea, he can feel every prick of the needle, the thread going through his flesh, pulling the wound closed. At this point, Charles is sweating profusely, breathing harder than he'd like, but he's still awake, at least.

She's no physician, but Alysia works quickly, and she obviously knows what she's doing. In his world, this is more than most can ask for, and some of his scars are proof enough.

When she's done and explains what to do with the herbs she got for his injury earlier, Charles nods and takes the bowl, settling it over his lap to start lathering the now stitched wound with it. Resting might prove - difficult, but he's not meant to set sail for a while yet, at least.

When she turns away, Charles reaches out rapidly, snatching her arm in his hand. He relaxes his hold immediately, a loose circle of thumb and forefinger around her delicate looking wrist.]

Thank you. [He puts all he can in the words; the implicit I owe you, and you didn't have to. Hopefully she'll get it.]

Camping

[turgleturgturg]

"It is I! The great wanderer! The lone swordsman! The downfall of the wicked!" Torg strode into the firelight with one hand dramatically pointed to the sky.

"All this would be really relevant if you had any idea who I am, I'm sure," he said, dropping the goofiness just a little if not the grin. "I saw your fire and was hoping you might consider sharing it. Mine went out after I tripped over it and sent half of it into a stream."