Itching to try out writing a character? Then rev up your engines, grab your accounts, and slam your way into this meme! Here is a venue for you to try out whatever character there might be tickling your fancy, from fandom to OC, for as few as one and as many as MANY. Seriously, there's no limit.
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→ Comment with the journal of a character you want to test; put their name and canon in the subject line for added sparkles. → Tag around with everyone! → Profit like you live on a the back of a turtle! → Maybe even RESERVE so you CAN live on the back of a turtle!
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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!
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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...?
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- 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. Maybe you haven't been hired by them at all, but are using their name for your own goals... as long as no one discovers the lie!
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- Everybody needs a little darkness...
The Great Enemy may have been defeated over two years ago, and people are even willing to speak Malicant's name aloud now, but there remains a taint in the city never fully purged. Those who consider Malicant a dark god whose end was unjust are the cultists of Keeliai, and they aren't always so easy to identify as one might think. Sometimes their presence is felt in the growing urge to give into one's darker instincts, especially in such a foreign place...
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- Incoming!
Tu Vishan's latest landfall stop has brought an unwelcome problem to its residents: enormous, toothy creatures who look more like pterosaurs than most people are comfortable with! With a twenty-foot wingspan, these aren't exactly harmless local wildlife, and they have a nasty habit of swooping down on targets both Foreigner and kedan! How are you going to fend them off, or help someone who might have been injured by the latest dive bombing??
- 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 uncontrollable urge to polish every paving stone in the Earth Sector? Anything goes!
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tushanshu_ooc2016-05-18 08:19 pm
Peter Bishop | Fringe | I do what I want
He has a drink in front of him, resting on the table by his hand, a finger tapping idly on the tabletop. In the other hand is a juulan coin, spinning expertly between his fingers. He's watching people. Best way to get to know people is by watching them in bars.
Also the best way to learn to exploit them... Not that Peter was actively looking... But he couldn't help but notice some similarities between these kedan and humans.
He smiles slightly, reaching for his drink. This was definitely... strange. Not the strangest thing he's seen, but... it's up there.
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Yukikaze's just curious, as he hasn't yet tried any beverages out, in this place. Besides, talking to strangers was always interesting, unless they were the most boring kind - which rarely happened.
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Besides, people usually did of their own accord, and it wasn't as if he was seeming closed. He'd made sure to keep himself as open and neutral as possible.
"Mm..." He lowers the glass, looking at it, a half-smile on his face. "It's... Interesting."
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Since he was still new here.
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"God knows. Stuff seems to change from bar to bar. Pot luck, man."
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And he says it like it's a good thing to be.
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Unless you want to be steaming from the ears for about 10 minutes afterwards... And he didn't even know how that was possible.
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He shan't. Smoking drinks? Sounds fascinating. But to one who doesn't know him, and isn't one to read much into people, unless that guy is, Yukikaze, with his servant politness training, may sound perfectly sincere.
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"So, what's a place like this doing in a guy like you?" He asks, smiling sarcastically, knowing that it was a terrible joke at best.
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"Sitting here listening to the same crap jokes I could hear in any dive."
He stops twirling the coin.
"The kedan letting in barstaff based on their godawful banter now?"
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Desmond sets aside the glass he'd been polishing, and puts his hands on the bar.
"Nah, just me. Pretty sure the owner's got himself a little crush. Funny thing is, it's how I got my last bartending job, too. Funny how that works."
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"Hell, maybe they'll let me stand behind the bar and look pretty."
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Desmond pulls out the seltzer, grenadine, and gin, and mixes them all together over ice. He then stabs a cherry with a pair of cocktail swords, and puts it into the drink, with the long end down. He walks over to Peter's table, and presents the drink.
"For making me laugh, I present to you; a Shirley Templar. It's a drink I invented back home. My name's Desmond, by the way. Figure all of us 'Foreigners' should know each other, right?"
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He shifts, sitting up, hand going out and picking up the glass, giving it a cursory sniff.
"Peter." He raises the glass. It didn't smell like anything he was used to back home, but, hey... when on the back of a giant turtle. "Cheers."
And he downs it.
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Desmond walks back to the bar, briefly, and mixes his own Shirley Templar, decidedly weaker than the one he'd mixed for Peter, as he was still technically on the job. He sits back down at Peter's table, and drinks.
"It's nice to meet you. So really, what brings you in here? Most of the folks from other places around here keep themselves pretty busy, so you don't see them much unless they're supporting an old habit."
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"And I'm a bit of a social butterfly. I've learned that you make friends easier when booze is free-flowing."
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"Nah, 2012. I've just got a really weird family. Our family tree branches back through pretty much every major war all the way back through the Dark Ages, so I grew up hearing about my ancestors, and the wars they fought in." Not entirely the truth, but not technically a lie, either. While Desmond was more than willing to talk about the Assassins and Templars, he liked to know who he was talking to, first.
"Makes sense. Gotta admit, it's part of why I take these jobs. You hear things, can keep a thumb on the pulse of the city, that kinda stuff."
Desmond wasn't sure if it was the Altaïr, Ezio, or Connor in him, or if it was just his Assassin training kicking in, but he just felt better if he Knew Things. It made him feel like he was more in control of himself, if he had information on the city that no one else did.
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Of course, Desmond had learned that directly from the Animus, thanks to Altaïr's fight against the Templars around in and around Syria, but he was sure that his dad had mentioned it at some point, about how Maria had ended up switching sides after meeting Altaïr, and finding out what the Templars were really after.
"It sounds like such a cliché, going to your local bar to pick up the latest rumors. Like something out of a video game." He laughs at the irony. Here he was, an NPC in someone else's story.
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"And humans are boring, so we make video games that reflect real life." He shrugs. "S'why I don't play 'em."
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Desmond picks apart the cherry cross in his own drink, restabbing the cherry to let more of the juice out into the drink.
"Eh, I think you'd be surprised. Real life's pretty damn interesting, depending on who's eyes you look at it from."
Desmond looks over to the other corner of the bar, and jumps slightly as he sees Connor Kenway and Charles Lee sitting at a table, looking exhausted. He looks away for just a moment, and they're gone. He takes a hearty gulp of his drink, hoping to wash that particular memory away. Even here, on the back of a damned turtle, he was feeling the Bleeding Effect.
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He almost sighs, and wonders what this guy's deal would be. Psychokinesis? Turning into a Crystal Explosive?
"You okay?" He asks, eventually.
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"Thought I saw a ghost, one of my ancestors. It happens to me sometimes. Doesn't seem to matter if I'm asleep or awake."
Desmond takes a breath, mentally preparing himself for having to explain the Assassins and Templars.
"A couple of months ago, I was kidnapped by a company called Abstergo. They're...the modern incarnation of the Templars. They've been fighting a war against the Assassin Brotherhood since...well...since the beginning of recorded history, really. Abstergo hooked me up to this machine called the Animus, that accesses my genetic memory, and lets me relive the memories of my ancestors, the downside being that their memories kind of...infect mine. They call it 'The Bleeding Effect'."
Desmond rolls up the sleeve of his right hand, exposing not only the rather wicked burn on his right palm, but also a tattoo on his forearm.
"I'm one of the Assassins. I was born into it. Abstergo's been looking for these things called 'Pieces of Eden', which are artifacts from an ancient civilization, and they were using my genetic memories to find them."
Desmond sighs. He's never really told a stranger any of that before, beyond cracking jokes about being raised on The Farm.
"Just now, I saw a vision of a Native American Assassin named Ratonhnhaké:ton, right when he killed General Charles Lee. Yeah, that Charles Lee. He was a Templar."
Desmond scrubs a hand over his face. He kind of hates having all of these memories, but he needed them at the same time.
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He's silent for a long moment, before folding his hands together, propping his elbows on the table, and resting his chin on them.
"What if I told you I could maybe help you out?"
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"I'd ask what the catch is. The last person who told me they could help me out turned out to be a Templar spy."
Desmond twitches his left wrist, feeling the hidden blade he kept hidden under the sleeve of his hoodie. He wasn't going to use it, he just liked being reminded that it was there if things went south.
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