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Haggling Over Something in the Marketplace! Maybe someone else saw the exact same shiny thing you did at the exact same moment! However shall this be resolved? Remember: blood is extremely hard to scrub off of turtle shell!
Dramatic Chase Sequence! You're running away from something! It could be anything, from a rampaging kirin to a gaggle of overly enthusiastic children! One way or another, you can't stop, and much like a katamari ball, you feel obligated to grab everyone in your path along the way to keep them out of danger! Or perhaps you're more the sort to try and knock them into it as a distraction...?
Where There's A Will, There's A...? The Life and Dreaming Planes have been merged, and sometimes what start out as wishful thinking becomes lured into reality. That slick new motorcycle or pile of kingly treasure you were just daydreaming about? Surprise! Though it may only stay for a short while before it disappears again, so make it count. Hopefully you're not the type to daydream about terrible things befalling people you don't like...
SECRET UNDERCOVER MODE ACTIVATE! The three major kedan families all have their own agendas, and you've chosen to entangle yourselves with one (or more!) of them. Are you hoping to shift the balance of power? Gain some favours? Perhaps you're on a mission to bring a criminal to justice, or maybe you just want to get the cream of the crop from the black market.
WILDCARD! Go nuts. Suddenly your character is fighting dragons! Good God, they've found the Millennium Falcon drifting in the ocean! Do you really feel the need to polish every paving stone in the Earth Sector? Please note, Wildcard options can also be what you can choose to do if you aren't yet comfortable in the Tu Shanshu setting, and would prefer a more 'dear-mun'-esque experience. Please specify in your post!
It's the first day of his new life here in...wherever this place is. Doesn't matter. It's not home, and it's not where the elven bankers are waiting to collect on his student loans, with the exorbitant interest rates that don't necessarily involve percentages so much as years of his life.
Elves are weird.
And they're (hopefully) too far away to collect.
He's practically skipping as he makes his way down the street, eyes wide with wonder (and a little giddiness that comes from a taste of financial freedom, no lie, even if he is one broke wizarding asshole right now. Dire financial straights soon to be remedied, hopefully.) Walking backwards, head tilted back so he can have a look at unfamiliar skies, runs him right into some poor, unsuspecting humanoid - whom he hopes is not an elf. "Oh! Terribly sorry."
Kitty staggers a little before regaining her footing. "Ain't no thing, man," she says, and smiles at him, any annoyance she feels certainly not showing on her face.
"But, uh, maybe lookin' ahead of yourself is a good way to go around here," she laughs. "I've already walked into at least one building doing what you just did. Least I'm squishier."
Meanwhile, Wally is doing his very best to help straighten her out - including patting down her hair between and around her false ears. "There, now. Much better. I'd cast a spell to get us straightened out, but wouldn't you know it, my magic's vanished!"
He says this with a voice full of bright cheer, as though it's not at all a troubling thought. No magic, no one asking him to do magic.
His response is immediate and completely enthusiastic. "Absolutely! Do you know, I haven't seen a single elf since I arrived? Not one!"
When he laughs, a punctuation to that sentence, it's a little manic. Those student loans are murder. Wally claps his hands together with a resounding sort of smack, rubs them, then extends one to her. "Wallace Sheldon Everett, Wizard, PFD, HTPF, DtL, and all around lovely person to know. Call me 'Wally'."
"Nor I!" she says, just as enthusiastically, although she can't imagine why that would be either a plus or a minus. She's met many elves, both good and bad, and has no real opinion on them overall.
She takes his hand and shakes it vigorously. "Kitty Callahan, also wizard, AoUP, RoUS, LMAO, and accredited ne'er-do-well. Nice to meetcha!"
"Ohh, accredited? I did very poorly in my Ne'er-do-Well classes. Orcish poetry, that's what I excelled in. You should hear me recite the Ballad of Rrgroth the Small. Always brings a tear to the eye. Not much of a bard, myself, though." And still, he's pumping her hand.
Finally, of course, he lets go and gives his own hand a shake as though to exorcise a cramp. "I think we'll get along famously. I need a roguish sort in my party."
"Well, as long as Orcish poetry's better than Vogon poetry," she says, grinning.
Ha! He let go first! She wins! She wins at handshakes! "Yep, a rogue, that's me. Though I must warn you, I rolled poorly on my Stealth stat. 1d6, what a shame," she says, and shakes her head.
"That is a shame. Stealth and thievery are important for rogues," he muses, one hand coming up to stroke his beard. He's been practicing beard-stroking ever since he discovered his ability to grow beards. One day, it will be long and voluminous, but right now, it's just sort of there, and stroking it isn't as satisfying (or helpful to the thinking process) as he hoped it would be.
"Well, nevermind. We'll find a use for you. Come along, then. To a tavern! We must confer with the bar wench for local news and possible quests."
"What ho," she says, and gestures dramatically, before pausing.
"Er. I don't think you should call the barmaids 'wenches'. It's not politic'ly correct," she notes, one hand on her chin as she thinks. (She has no beard to stroke in thought, alas. She could probably grow one if she really wanted to, but that's not in the cards right now.)
"What ho where?" he asks, following her gesture in the assumption that she's indicating something off in the distance, but finds himself immediately distracted by her rebuke.
Abashed, he puts his free hand to the back of his head, so that now he seems to be readjusting his neck by gripping both beard and cranium. "My, so many rules to learn. All right. Barmaids, then. That should do well enough, shouldn't it? Yes, yes, I think so." His hands at last release his head, though tomorrow he'll find an inexplicable crick in his neck from these shenanigans.
Careful, Wally, a man could trip and break his neck in that position. Not like Kitty'd know from experience, of course. Perish the thought.
"I should think. Unless the title of 'wench' is one earned through extensive practice and study. Perhaps they're like upper-level barmaids. I never really thought about it before."
Unfortunately, being bumped into in the middle of the street of a strange city while disoriented wasn't the best situation for a former-mercenary. Connor twisted around and grabbed at the person who had gotten in his space, shoving him up against the nearest wall-like structure before he could stop to think.
It didn't take long for it to set in what had happened, three seconds at most, and he immediately pulled away regardless of the fact of the stranger having his balance or not.
Wally was not a brave man, nor a very good wizard even when he did possess full control over his magic. The moment the other man's hands were on him, he was shrieking in a pitch none too dissimilar from that which might be made by a very small girl.
"I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY, TAKE MY MONEY - NO WAIT, I HAVEN'T GOT ANY MONEY - I HAVE STUDENT LOANS!"
And then his 'sorries' were coming in time with Connor's, and slowly, he fell silent, though he did maintain an artful cringe against the wall. "Wait. Why're you sorry?"
That pitch was not friendly to his ears at all. It helped that his drums were biomechanical and didn't send piercing amounts of pain up his spine but it was a close thing. When he stepped back, it was with a grimace and a shake of his head to rid the lingering ringing. Jesus Christ, what kind of lungs did that guy have?
"Because I just attacked you?" he said, obviously. "All you did was bump into me, didn't you?"
Wally straightened, looking rather shifty as he glanced from side to side, then dusted away whatever grime and wrinkles were to be found on his coat. "Ah - yes. Exactly. Just a bump."
How best to recover his dignity? This man was clearly no elf and not after his money. The important thing was to appear magnanimous as well as composed. "Well. No harm done from either of us, right? Right. Here, my good man: have a handshake." He held out the same hand he had used to brush dirt from his clothes.
Connor ran a hand through his hair, ending at his nape to scratch there awkwardly long enough to listen to Wally continue. This was not a good thing, attacking people was not good, but he'd been getting better about it and as long as Myers didn't hear anything... no harm done, like that guy said. He would just be more alert, right?
He hesitated briefly at the hand offered, then reached out to shake it. Despite the single glove covering his hand, it was cooler than it ought to be and the give wasn't quite right. Just a bit too firm to be entirely real. "Yeah, sure, shake on it."
There was something strange about the other man's hand, though Wally couldn't quite put his finger on it. He withdrew from the handshake with the look of a man who has just touched something that ought not be squishy, but is, and thus inexplicable and just plain weird.
"Yes. Ah...so, then." He faltered, then regained his smile. "Allow me to introduce myself: Wallace Sheldon Everett, Wizard, GGIP, LLTC, LMNOP, and occasional reciter of orcish poetry. 'Wally', for short, if you like. Now, why on earth did you attack me?"
That expression only inspired Connor to shutter his own. Right, not everyone was used to cybernetics and he was somewhere completely different here. He couldn't expect some social graces out of anyone who might be too awkward to comment on it. His left hand went to hold on to his right at his side, careful and wary.
"Did you just say wizard?" The question was rhetorical. That was definitely 'wizard' stuck in the middle of that ridiculous name and title. "I, um, I'm not... used to downtime, you could say. I work in a dangerous field."
"I can understand that. Dangerous fields. That, in fact, allows me to answer your other question: I, too, work in a dangerous field. You see, my new young friend," which was something of an overreach, as Connor and Wally were surely near to the same age, "I dabble in the arcane. I motivate the forces of the universe to do my bidding. I have fought the dark forces. I make pretty amulets for love spells."
Jazzhands. He was definitely doing jazzhands. "For I am indeed a wizard." One of those jazzhands came to rest on Connor's shoulder, patted, and, as Wally recalled the weird feeling of the other man's hand, fell away. "What dangerous field do you work in? Mercenary work? Oh, you wouldn't happen to be a warrior in need of a party, would you?"
Twenty-eight years old and counting, but he didn't blink at the diminutive. He got that a lot, from both good and bad sources, and it was just one of those things. Easy to ignore. When Wally reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, Connor reached up to push it away with his forearm, far enough down that there was genuine flesh there instead. Not very open to random touches, this one.
"Security, actually," he said. Wally was a bit too on the nose, not that Connor would admit it. "I'm not looking for a group, I'm looking for where the hell I am. You should probably keep looking for help, though."
Edited (tenses? what are those?) 2015-09-26 02:45 (UTC)
The removal of his hand went wholly unnoticed; Wally was a bit too full of himself at the moment to be perturbed by the action, and continued on agreeably as though it hadn't happened. "I can help you there! You're on the back of a giant turtle, in some distant universe far from home. Isn't it marvelous?"
It had yet to occur to Wallace Sheldon Everett, Wizard, that he might in fact be the only person here who was pleased to be abducted by mysterious turtle forces. Not everyone had his problems. Some people actually had things going on back home which required their immediate attention. "Or did you mean in a more specific and local sense? I have no idea where I am, either, in that case. Fire District? Bubblegum District? No idea."
And the kid he bumps into staggers back and falls on his butt with an oof!
Wincing he looks up at the guy, before smiling. "It's fine, not the worst thing I've had happened." He gets up, dusting himself off. "My name's Steven. What's yours?"
Elves are, indeed, weird. And the young girl Wallace just toppled over looks very elf-like. Kind of. Her ears are somewhat pointy and large at least, but the rest of her looks more ghost-like, considering the way shadows don't seem to stick to her properly, making her stand out like a bad green-screening effect.
"Sorry," she repeated. "Yes." Carefully, she picked herself up off the ground. Dirt didn't seem to stick to her either. While she felt solid enough (at least enough to knock over), she didn't quite look it, as though she were not entirely there.
No, not an elf. But a fire dragon using a human shape. Due to that bit of shapeshifting, despite the armor, Volga is perhaps uncomfortably warm to have been walked into.
The temperature inches upward as he looks down. Although it is easier to see the eyes in the skull-like helm than his own-
"You'll walk into things far more hazardous if you keep looking up."
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tushanshu_ooc2015-09-22 11:30 pm
Wallace Everett, Wizard | Original Character
Elves are weird.
And they're (hopefully) too far away to collect.
He's practically skipping as he makes his way down the street, eyes wide with wonder (and a little giddiness that comes from a taste of financial freedom, no lie, even if he is one broke wizarding asshole right now. Dire financial straights soon to be remedied, hopefully.) Walking backwards, head tilted back so he can have a look at unfamiliar skies, runs him right into some poor, unsuspecting humanoid - whom he hopes is not an elf. "Oh! Terribly sorry."
no subject
"But, uh, maybe lookin' ahead of yourself is a good way to go around here," she laughs. "I've already walked into at least one building doing what you just did. Least I'm squishier."
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He says this with a voice full of bright cheer, as though it's not at all a troubling thought. No magic, no one asking him to do magic.
"Did you just arrive here, as well?"
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As though magic is something that can get lost between couch cushions, or accidentally placed in the fridge.
"Been here about a day or two, mate. Isn't this place wonderful?" she asks earnestly.
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When he laughs, a punctuation to that sentence, it's a little manic. Those student loans are murder. Wally claps his hands together with a resounding sort of smack, rubs them, then extends one to her. "Wallace Sheldon Everett, Wizard, PFD, HTPF, DtL, and all around lovely person to know. Call me 'Wally'."
no subject
She takes his hand and shakes it vigorously. "Kitty Callahan, also wizard, AoUP, RoUS, LMAO, and accredited ne'er-do-well. Nice to meetcha!"
no subject
Finally, of course, he lets go and gives his own hand a shake as though to exorcise a cramp. "I think we'll get along famously. I need a roguish sort in my party."
no subject
Ha! He let go first! She wins! She wins at handshakes! "Yep, a rogue, that's me. Though I must warn you, I rolled poorly on my Stealth stat. 1d6, what a shame," she says, and shakes her head.
no subject
"Well, nevermind. We'll find a use for you. Come along, then. To a tavern! We must confer with the bar wench for local news and possible quests."
no subject
"Er. I don't think you should call the barmaids 'wenches'. It's not politic'ly correct," she notes, one hand on her chin as she thinks. (She has no beard to stroke in thought, alas. She could probably grow one if she really wanted to, but that's not in the cards right now.)
no subject
Abashed, he puts his free hand to the back of his head, so that now he seems to be readjusting his neck by gripping both beard and cranium. "My, so many rules to learn. All right. Barmaids, then. That should do well enough, shouldn't it? Yes, yes, I think so." His hands at last release his head, though tomorrow he'll find an inexplicable crick in his neck from these shenanigans.
no subject
"I should think. Unless the title of 'wench' is one earned through extensive practice and study. Perhaps they're like upper-level barmaids. I never really thought about it before."
(no subject)
(no subject)
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It didn't take long for it to set in what had happened, three seconds at most, and he immediately pulled away regardless of the fact of the stranger having his balance or not.
"S-sorry. You just—sorry."
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"I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY, TAKE MY MONEY - NO WAIT, I HAVEN'T GOT ANY MONEY - I HAVE STUDENT LOANS!"
And then his 'sorries' were coming in time with Connor's, and slowly, he fell silent, though he did maintain an artful cringe against the wall. "Wait. Why're you sorry?"
no subject
"Because I just attacked you?" he said, obviously. "All you did was bump into me, didn't you?"
no subject
Wally straightened, looking rather shifty as he glanced from side to side, then dusted away whatever grime and wrinkles were to be found on his coat. "Ah - yes. Exactly. Just a bump."
How best to recover his dignity? This man was clearly no elf and not after his money. The important thing was to appear magnanimous as well as composed. "Well. No harm done from either of us, right? Right. Here, my good man: have a handshake." He held out the same hand he had used to brush dirt from his clothes.
no subject
He hesitated briefly at the hand offered, then reached out to shake it. Despite the single glove covering his hand, it was cooler than it ought to be and the give wasn't quite right. Just a bit too firm to be entirely real. "Yeah, sure, shake on it."
no subject
"Yes. Ah...so, then." He faltered, then regained his smile. "Allow me to introduce myself: Wallace Sheldon Everett, Wizard, GGIP, LLTC, LMNOP, and occasional reciter of orcish poetry. 'Wally', for short, if you like. Now, why on earth did you attack me?"
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"Did you just say wizard?" The question was rhetorical. That was definitely 'wizard' stuck in the middle of that ridiculous name and title. "I, um, I'm not... used to downtime, you could say. I work in a dangerous field."
no subject
Jazzhands. He was definitely doing jazzhands. "For I am indeed a wizard." One of those jazzhands came to rest on Connor's shoulder, patted, and, as Wally recalled the weird feeling of the other man's hand, fell away. "What dangerous field do you work in? Mercenary work? Oh, you wouldn't happen to be a warrior in need of a party, would you?"
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"Security, actually," he said. Wally was a bit too on the nose, not that Connor would admit it. "I'm not looking for a group, I'm looking for where the hell I am. You should probably keep looking for help, though."
no subject
It had yet to occur to Wallace Sheldon Everett, Wizard, that he might in fact be the only person here who was pleased to be abducted by mysterious turtle forces. Not everyone had his problems. Some people actually had things going on back home which required their immediate attention. "Or did you mean in a more specific and local sense? I have no idea where I am, either, in that case. Fire District? Bubblegum District? No idea."
(no subject)
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Wincing he looks up at the guy, before smiling. "It's fine, not the worst thing I've had happened." He gets up, dusting himself off. "My name's Steven. What's yours?"
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"Sorry," she repeated. "Yes." Carefully, she picked herself up off the ground. Dirt didn't seem to stick to her either. While she felt solid enough (at least enough to knock over), she didn't quite look it, as though she were not entirely there.
no subject
The temperature inches upward as he looks down. Although it is easier to see the eyes in the skull-like helm than his own-
"You'll walk into things far more hazardous if you keep looking up."