( tdm 9 )

[hownkai]

T E S T D R I V E

ABOARD THE MOIRA Whether adjusting to space travel has been difficult or not, there is always something to be done. From working to leisure, the Moira offers a multitude of opportunities to get to know your crewmates a bit better. Exploration of the ship is highly encouraged, but as another planet grows closer to being docked, things start to get a little hectic. You'll notice a slight change in the artificial gravity as the Moira is pulled into a gravitational field; however, more noticeable changes can be found in the overall morale as you prepare to descend. ☄ on your own There are plenty of other communal areas on the ship to explore! Pick a place, and see where it takes you. ( These scenarios can be used as in-game canon. ) C R O M I A While exhibits or museums exist to commemorate people or objects, planets like this are designed as a memoriam for certain eras across the universe. Welcome to Cromia—a one-of-a-kind place set in medieval times. Sort of. Most technology on Cromia isn’t particularly advanced, and the fashion leaves little to be desired. However, one thing is very noticeable about this planet once you decide to explore: there are no organic people anywhere to be found. Cromia is inhabited by a race of intelligent, humanoid robots who tend to and care for the environment as well as live peacefully with one another. Yet, some have been programmed to show a certain disdain for those who are, in some way, living, and their hostility ranges between hurling insults and vegetables to reporting trespassers to the authorities. Besides that, all seems well and prosperous on Cromia. ☄ the emperor’s new servos The Royal Family of Cromia has extended an invitation to join them for festivities, food, and drink beginning when the first sun sets. This night is a way to relax and perhaps romance that special someone in your life with a little song and dance. For those who sample certain drinks, they might find themselves doing just that without being able to help themselves. Or perhaps that delicious wine you've heard so much about is actually a very oily concoction meant for the robots of Cromia. For others, a little cheese or venison might instill the need for fisticuffs. Could the desserts hold the same sort of enchantment? Do you dare to find out? ☄ catch-a-riiiide The fastest way to get around is via carriage in the city, and each city is pulled by a large insectoid cyborg. Their handlers assure you they’re quite tame, especially since their silly organic minds have been implanted with a control chip. They’ll take you to whatever destination you program in without a hiccup! What could go wrong? Except on the way, that ever-so-important control chip happens to malfunction. Your once docile bug-stallion is now running amok down the streets. Do you jump out before you meet a sticky end? Or do you take control and force it to stop? Either way, you aren’t likely to be getting your deposit back from this. ☄ taste the rainbow Archery. Bugback riding. Jousting. These are the typical leisure activities suiting the time period you now find yourself in, which is what you might assume when you see the banners denoting a competition. Anyone can enter. Anyone can win the prizes. When you ask what sport you’ll have to play, they just say one word: skittles. Similar to bowling, this sport is played on a long, flattened field, and the point of it is to use the wooden ball to knock over the "skittles" that are set up in increasingly complex patterns for each round. These skittles are also made of wood, exactly ten feet high each, and the balls used vary from the size of a golf ball to a canon ball (dealer’s choice on ball size). People are usually split into teams, but for the sake of the competition, everyone plays alone. Whoever gets the most points moves forward in the competition, and hope that there are no accidents mid-throw! OUT OF CHARACTER INFO FAQ | LOCATIONS | RESERVES | APPLICATIONS | NAVIGATION For mature or graphic content, please label. For questions, please direct them to the FAQ. As always, be kind and have fun!

Comments

cromia;

[noirant]

"You know, I could be mistaken," It's a lazy drawl, the ease of the words punctuated by the sharp attention of the eyes above them. "But I don't believe that's how you grow grapes."

A beat, as Felix offers her a gracious smile, and promptly dumps his own glass into the same plant. He doesn't remotely trust the hall around them; a valuable thing, to find others in company.

"Of course, I never was a farmer. And you, madame?"

It's a jest of a question. What farmer wears fine gloves?

[god_damn_god]

Caught, Sugar goes still for a moment—but when he pours out his own glass, her expression gives way to a conspiratorial smile, and she laughs—unforced, not too brightly.

"The closest I ever got to agriculture was the occasional cut flower from the household garden." Well, there was William, and the lavender fields—but that's not a subject for now, is it? "I admire anyone with the fortitude for it, but that sort of work isn't for me, I'm afraid."

She's being pleasant, direct; the instinct to be coy, to flirt—it is hard to suppress, but, she tells herself, I don't need to do that anymore.

[noirant]

His voice shifts into the warmth of casual attention. He's too unnerved to bait or flirt himself just now, and powers, but it's a relief to find capable conversation coming out of something other than clockwork.

"I'll admit a passing familiarity," He gesture loose with fingers inked full of gaudy, floral tattoos. A lesser man might stoop to firsthand, and lucky for them all that Simon isn't here to try it. "But fortitude is one of those picturesque words that's better left to grand landscape paintings, and overwrought poetry. It's my personal opinion you can do far better."

He ticks off adjectives.

"Charming, for one, well-spoken perhaps — but well, with hosts as courteous as these, I doubt you need my flattery. Felix Harrowgate, late of Marathat."

It's no strain to leave off the 'Lord'. The carnival-nature of their surroundings has already wounded his vanity enough on that score; this isn't a place for titles to be taken any more seriously than a child's paper crown.

[god_damn_god]

Sugar once saw tattoos like that on a sailor from some faraway country; it is peculiar for her to see a man of apparently some sort of high station—if his speech and manner are anything to go by—marked so. Unconsciously she flexes her own fingers, which itch inside her gloves.

Without even thinking about it, her gaze drops slightly at charming, but she catches herself and looks up again, a wry look on her face. "Why, it seems that charm is a commodity in some supply." And, introducing herself: "My name is Sugar—late of London. I'm afraid I've never heard of Marathat." She can't even begin to guess where it might be, as she sounds the word out in her head. Not English, but it doesn't sound like French or any other language she's heard in passing.

[noirant]

"That seems to be going around. If it's any consolation," He rather suspects it's the opposite. "London similarly escapes me."

He lifts the empty glass in the faint mockery of a toast.

"But a pleasure, nonetheless. Marathat's a dreadful country. Full of politicians." Hardy har. "I daresay you're not missing much. How does London compare?"

There's an honest eagerness to the question, like a kid listening to a story.

[god_damn_god]

A short, humourless laugh escapes before Sugar can stop it. "Politicians," she says, as if the word tastes bad in her mouth. "Yes, London's got those, and pompous rich men, and packs of working men who dress like undertakers, and of course the women who are subject to the whims of them all."

That ... was a little more than she meant to say. Surely the tiny polite sip she'd taken of her drink couldn't have loosened her tongue that much? Or is it simply the fact of no longer being there that's given her a fresh sense of liberty?

[noirant]

His brows wrinkle up in amusement, for all the clear bitterness of her tone. If he's himself covered by at least two of those categories, Felix pays it little mind.

Not so terribly different, then — save perhaps for the last. The country's hardly free of sexism, but he can't imagine its whims described as so blunt a point of fact.

"And the working women? And the pompous, lady politicians? To say nothing of our esteemed undertakers."

If the words are glib, the curiousity beneath them is plain. He's not trying to make fun of her, only dig out an answer.