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TEST DRIVE #6
TEST DRIVE MEME
Considering apping to EACHDRAIDH? Why not give the setting a test run here! OPTIONAL SCENARIOS 01. ARRIVING IN THE DRABWURLD. The Seelie and Unseelie courts welcome you with mirthful revelry and hearty food. After you have been briefed on your purpose here, you will find an endless feast and a night filled with entertainment to placate your concerns. Mingle with new arrivals, sneak down the castle halls and make sure your eyes are always on your glass; fairies and imps have no bias when it comes to tricks! 02. THE STATION. Looking for a little slice of home? The Station gives you all that and more. Take advantage of the wifi, have a cup of fairy-brewed coffee (the one they didn't spit in) or sit back and relax on the patio. You can even move your things into one of the available rooms! 03. WILDCARD. Your own scenario! Explore the Drabwurld or simply take advantage of your Locket! |
John Granby | Temeraire | Seelie
[are you a person who has a dragon? are you, in fact, a dragon? do you just happen to be in the vicinity of one? congratulations, then as a granby is in the area fully occupied in sketching said dragon. it's quite a good drawing really, accurate and studied, with badly written notes scribbled on the page, and it's obvious that this is far from the first dragon the artist has sketched. he's also apparently unconcerned about any possible danger that the beast might hold, after all, he has been in close contact with them since he was seven.
he frowns, smudging and shading one of the wings a bit before roughly sketching a scale or two in the corner. he has whole pages of these things in his book now. it isn't much, but at least it is a distraction.
anything to keep his mind off of the persistent worry that accompanies the unnerving fact that iskierka still isn't there.]
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[ richard sharpe -- major in the south essex regiment, though he insisted upon wearing the cord and colours of the 95th and certainly did not possess a scrap of his rank about him apart from the red officer's sash -- idled into this grand cavern somewhere deep within caer glaem's halls. he hadn't meant to come here. christ, he'd been trying to find the kitchens again. but now he was here.
and there was a buggering dragon snoring in the far end of the hall. and, here, some man a-scribbling. sharpe's hackles risein a slight grimace as he leans in to inspect the image. ] Decent work. How do you know she's not gonna wake up and bloody well eat you?
( ooc: he's not in the game any longer but i couldn't help it )
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[he actually takes the time to look at the visitor now and his clothing alone is enough to alleviate some small portion of granby's worry. though not aerial corps, that uniform is still one of the most homelike things he's seen yet. granby though cannot be readily identified as belonging to his majesty's service himself. his shirt, trousers and boots are all nondescript and he jettisoned his fourth best coat at the first opportunity.]
I haven't known one yet who has cared to see how I taste and doubt this one will be interested.
(ooc: i love you for giving me this thread)
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You're so sure? [ doubt infects his voice. ] Sounds like madness to me.
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[granby might not see much use for laurence's brand of gentlemanly civility and noblesse oblige, but inbetween his mother and the covert he did learn some manners. he slips the pencil inside the sketchbook, standing and smiling, honestly friendly.] John Granby, captain of Iskierka.
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and who the christ knows what an iskierka is except it sounds pompous and foreign enough to be the name of a ship. oh, shite. if he's tumbled into a navy man-- ]
Richard Sharpe. Major in the South Essex. [ but he gives the title as though it means nothing. for the most part, people in the drabwurld have no notion of his army or even his nation. he copes. ] Is the Iskierka here?
[ oh, and he doesn't even manage to mangle the name. bonus. ]
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after all, everyone knows of the aerial corps, even if they don't know of the misadventures of the corp's sole fire-breather.]
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She's a pretty one then, is she? [ he nearly yawns. best to indulge the man his pride. ]
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[He gestures helpfully towards the sleeping dragon at the end of the hall as a comparison.] She's a Kazilik. Much larger than that one there, though the wingspan may be comparable.
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[ he raised a rough hand. officer, doubtless. but he was clearly one of those fighting officers. the bullet-holes peppering his green jacket attested to that well enough. ] You're talking 'bout one of those?
[ don't mind the mild horror in his voice. ]
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[granby is used to reactions like that from soldiers, especially those like Sharpe who clearly have never had any interactions with aviators and dragons beyond maybe seeing them overhead during engagements.]
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[ duh. he backs up a step -- wondering whether perhaps some mistake had been made. here he'd come looking to find a comrade in...in something. and all he's managed is to find more damned and buggered weirdness. dragons! ]
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[granby frowns, more at the sudden retreat than anything else. he is an aviator, not a madman, and he certainly isn't contagious. his closest human link to home isn't allowed to go running off due to an irrational fear of dragons.]
Captain Granby of His Majesty's Aerial Corps. Not navy.
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[ he repeats the word with utter doubt. saint george slew a dragon once -- but sharpe knew they were only stories. tales, the likes of which blas vivar told his men or sergeant harper whispered 'round the fire. nothing to truly believe in. not until here.
even so, there is the quiet grumbling in his gut that tells him an aerial corps would do better than a rocket troop. ] Indulge me, Captain. [ he puts on his best hard-ass major voice. ] Tell me the year.
[ back home. ]
damn you for making me pin a year to him even if it doesn't stick in the end
whoops sorry!!!
[ that had been talavera. standoffishly: ] Eagles flew in '09. Not dragons. [ french imperial eagles, and sharpe's men had been the ones to take down the first. but that's not what this is about. ]
hate you forever, etc, etc, except not because this thread is everything I want out of life
[confusion doesn't really sit any better on granby and he's apt to go sarcastic and use expressions that would make laurence and some of the corps' more well-bred members frown, but at least he hasn't turned into a total scrub yet. really, there can't be many people more ill-prepared to come to grips with the concept of alternate universes than a couple of soldiers from the napoleonic wars.]
i'm just sorry i have to keep same-iconning you because his selection is so crap.
but he's willing to entertain one last awful option: ] -- British?
[ as in are you? because although the bugger doesn't sound french or god-knew-what-else, perhaps the real reason he found himself so bloody confused was because he'd in fact stumbled across an enemy's secret weapon. ridiculous as it is, this is downright open-minded for major richard sharpe. ]
i'm threading a character from temeraire with sharpe. i wouldn't care if he had one icon total
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won't hold it against him, though. the dragon on the other hand. ] London -- [ he says ] by way of Yorkshire. Though I ain't lived in England since I was a lad.
[ too busy fighting you know how it is. ]
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Where were you in 1813?
[and by extension, where was the army? and how is the war going? because clearly it wasn't over yet.]
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Spain. [ bloody hell, but how long had he been in spain? ] With Wellington poised to cross over into France. [ a spark of pride. he wants to be there when they march. he wants his men on that line. ]
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