Estinien Wyrmblood (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stardiving) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
victory_road2020-05-03 07:27 pm
stardiving) wrote in victory_road2020-05-03 07:27 pm
action/video
Action.
Estinien had gone to sleep in a simple room in Camp Dragonhead's barracks, intending to return to Foundation in the morning and check in. He'd woken up with most of his legs hanging off a tiny bed, in a room that might belong to a child, being prodded by said child's mother who spoke...far too familiarly. Despite his best attempts to get answers, he'd had a bag and a small white fox unceremoniously shoved at him and then shown the door.
Outside holds more surprises. Though he was expecting something odd, it wasn't a small collection of houses nestled in green trees, nary a snowflake to be seen. No one is armed, or armored, and there are more of the odd beasts running around. And now that he's paying attention, there's music playing from somewhere. It's omnipresent, growing neither louder or softer as he approaches and moves away from buildings and people.
What in the Fury's name.
He glances down at the pack in his hands, at the fox sitting curiously at his feet, and decides upon his course of action.
First, he leaves town--he doesn't wish to have people's eyes on him--and sits under a tree off the side of the path. The fox almost immediately curls up beside him and shoves its nose under his hand seeking attention. He nearly jumps back to his feet--he doesn't expect it to be cold, its breath chill as a Coerthan wind against his skin. After he gets over his shock, he gives the creature a cursory scratch, fingers dragging through ice crystals in its hair.
What.
After a few moments, he turns his attention to what he meant to examine--the bag he'd been handed. There's a neatly folded set of clothes, what looks to be smallclothes, neatly labeled soaps and towels, a bedroll...very little actually useful for being in the wilderness. How long are they expected to travel? Hmph. He reads through the given journal quickly, then picks up the...device, turning it over in his hands.
"I don't suppose that you know how this thing works, or even what it is supposed to be," he murmurs to the fox, certainly not expecting to be understood or recieve an answer. Much less for the little beast to snatch the thing out of his hands with its teeth and drop it to the ground, paw it open, and poke at it until a tinny voice rang out.
"Vulpix, Alola form. It exhales air colder than -58 degrees Fahrenheit. In hot weather, this Pokémon makes ice shards with its six tails and sprays them around to cool itself off."
...Finally, something that might start to give some answers. Now if only he knew how to work it. He'll just be sitting here under this tree poking at it for a while.
video.
[The video is starting upside down, which is a good start. Someone doesn't know his camera angles. Or what a camera is. But he figures it out soon enough and turns it right-side up.
The man on the camera is, despite the shockingly white hair, fairly young--probably no more than 35--and fairly annoyed, especially as his long hair slips forward into his face. He reaches up to shove it behind one short, pointed ear.]
What is it doing...sending? Oh for Fury's sake.
[He pokes at the screen for a bit before he manages to hit the right button to turn it off.
Someone's not feeling social today.Or ever.]
Estinien had gone to sleep in a simple room in Camp Dragonhead's barracks, intending to return to Foundation in the morning and check in. He'd woken up with most of his legs hanging off a tiny bed, in a room that might belong to a child, being prodded by said child's mother who spoke...far too familiarly. Despite his best attempts to get answers, he'd had a bag and a small white fox unceremoniously shoved at him and then shown the door.
Outside holds more surprises. Though he was expecting something odd, it wasn't a small collection of houses nestled in green trees, nary a snowflake to be seen. No one is armed, or armored, and there are more of the odd beasts running around. And now that he's paying attention, there's music playing from somewhere. It's omnipresent, growing neither louder or softer as he approaches and moves away from buildings and people.
What in the Fury's name.
He glances down at the pack in his hands, at the fox sitting curiously at his feet, and decides upon his course of action.
First, he leaves town--he doesn't wish to have people's eyes on him--and sits under a tree off the side of the path. The fox almost immediately curls up beside him and shoves its nose under his hand seeking attention. He nearly jumps back to his feet--he doesn't expect it to be cold, its breath chill as a Coerthan wind against his skin. After he gets over his shock, he gives the creature a cursory scratch, fingers dragging through ice crystals in its hair.
What.
After a few moments, he turns his attention to what he meant to examine--the bag he'd been handed. There's a neatly folded set of clothes, what looks to be smallclothes, neatly labeled soaps and towels, a bedroll...very little actually useful for being in the wilderness. How long are they expected to travel? Hmph. He reads through the given journal quickly, then picks up the...device, turning it over in his hands.
"I don't suppose that you know how this thing works, or even what it is supposed to be," he murmurs to the fox, certainly not expecting to be understood or recieve an answer. Much less for the little beast to snatch the thing out of his hands with its teeth and drop it to the ground, paw it open, and poke at it until a tinny voice rang out.
"Vulpix, Alola form. It exhales air colder than -58 degrees Fahrenheit. In hot weather, this Pokémon makes ice shards with its six tails and sprays them around to cool itself off."
...Finally, something that might start to give some answers. Now if only he knew how to work it. He'll just be sitting here under this tree poking at it for a while.
video.
[The video is starting upside down, which is a good start. Someone doesn't know his camera angles. Or what a camera is. But he figures it out soon enough and turns it right-side up.
The man on the camera is, despite the shockingly white hair, fairly young--probably no more than 35--and fairly annoyed, especially as his long hair slips forward into his face. He reaches up to shove it behind one short, pointed ear.]
What is it doing...sending? Oh for Fury's sake.
[He pokes at the screen for a bit before he manages to hit the right button to turn it off.
Someone's not feeling social today.
text;
However, he's not about to expose himself so readily, no, what good would that do him? None, so...]
My, my. One might wager this is your first time handling such technology. Mayhap you are in need of assistance?
[Honestly, he doesn't know if the guy will even get back to him, but that's no matter. Whether he does or he doesn't, Emet's more than gotten his dose of amusement at that fumbling.]
text
It takes quite some time for him to respond--you could certainly be pardoned thinking he wouldn't. Indeed, he considered ignoring it because it seemed mocking and he was annoyed by that, and then once he decided to couldn't find the message after he'd managed to dismiss the notification.
The struggle is so real.]
if you are being earnest and not mocking i might accept.
text
You will find I am ever earnest in all my endeavors, but I must say...with your earlier fumbling of the device, I was not fully confident that you would reply at all. Full glad am I that you tackled that much on your own.
You may yet have what it takes to master this communicator.
text
tis not something i am used to seeing. as you surmised.
[He's considering 'losing' it into a nearby body of water, like he has with linkpearls in the past. Oops.]
text
Well, my first bit of advice when handling a new contraption: while doubtlessly shiny and irresistible, try not to press every button you see. It will save you a great deal of embarrassment.
It is rather fortunate you were not in a more precarious situation when you turned on your camera. Perhaps we should praise your—what was it...Fury? Yes, praise your Fury for that not being the case.
text
were i in a precarious situation, i would not be dealing with the thing.
[He is quite safely ensconced under a tree on Route 29, no compromising position to be had.
He narrows his eyes at the text appearing on the screen, tilting it so the sun glare doesn't blind him. He is not the most devout follower of Halone but that makes him feel twitchy. He doesn't say anything about it though.]
text
Accidents happen, my friend.
My next bit of advice is to see if there is an instruction manual that came with it. Familiarize yourself with it. That will save you a lot of headaches in the future, though it will likewise save us a great deal of entertainment.
But sacrifices must be made, eh?
text
i suppose.
[Though he doesn't want to entertain you, so he'll have to take it under advisement.]
text
Not much of a talker, are you?
text
whatever gave you that impression.
text
Perhaps the paragraphs upon paragraphs of text you've been sending me. Or, rather, the lack there of.
Really. Have you no words for me? Not even a simple "thanks" for my assistance?
text
Urgh. Fine, he supposes.]
thank you for your assistance.
text
There you go. Now, was that so hard?
text
Also, you are getting left on read.]
no subject
But that's fine, he considers for a moment to keep the conversation going—even if one-sided—but decides instead to leave it be. There will be more chances to prod at this fellow from the Source, he's certain.
RIP, Estinien.]
[video]
Hello there! Your Pokégear was indeed transmitting, but fear not: it showed nothing particularly compromising. You appear to have recently arrived; do you have any questions about your current... situation?
[video]
Oh, it's back and there's someone else now. He hates this thing already. But he'll be civil, because he needs information, and someone's offering to give it that seems sincere and doesn't set his teeth on edge like the other guy.
He looks vaguely uncomfortable and awkward, like he's not sure where to look while speaking.]
...aye. What manner of place is this?
[video]
[The intro could have sounded impressive, but it mostly sounds like Cecil has been repeating it often enough to say it in his sleep. Still, he doesn't seem bothered at all by the awkwardness.]
I imagine you found yourself accompanied by a strange creature upon your arrival? That's a Pokémon; they serve as both pets and the local flavor of monsters. You're expected to travel throughout the regions of Johto and Kanto, catch more of them along the way, and raise them... at least in theory. In practice, as long as you treat your starter well and avoid breaking the law, you're more or less free to do as you please.
[video]
Ten years? And pray tell, how long have you been here?
[He glances down at his Vulpix, the little beast having decided that since he's sitting it's a perfect time to clamber into his lap.
It doesn't look like a monster so much as a carbuncle. Or some sort of weird pet a noble would decide they wanted, then discard in the wilderness when it got too large.]
What does raising them entail?
[video]
[Very, very practiced. At least the next question perks him right back up.]
The usual. Feeding them, housing them, cherishing them, playing with them, sending them out to battle wild Pokémon or other trainers regularly... Well, in most cases. They have the occasional pacifist in their midst; my sweet Deathbringer weeps every time she injures another living being, for one. But generally, they enjoy friendly combat. In fact, many wild Pokémon refuse to follow a trainer that has not first bested them in battle.
[video]
By Halone...
[He couldn't conceive of that--or of being so incredibly calm about it. Or, honestly, having these creatures fight for him.]
It nigh beggars belief. And I am no arcanist, to have beasts or constructs of any sort do my fighting for me.
[Not that he has his lance, or his armor.]
[video]
[His frown and the bitterness in his voice make his opinion on that subject quite clear. He sighs.]
Though I must admit that, on those rare occasions when we must face human opponents or creatures that genuinely wish to inflict harm upon us, I'd much rather take up a blade and do my own fighting. If only to spare my team the potential pain.
[video]
He sighs and shakes his head, his messy hair falling into his eyes. He is no Warrior of Light, to get drawn into all this.]
Neither arms, nor aether...tis an absurdity.
A man of the sword, when not forced to have these beasts fight in your stead. I've known more than a few of those.
[Gruffly:]
I thank you for the information.
[video]
[Looks like that dragoon radar isn't that good after all. But his guess certainly doesn't turn to magic, does it.]
You're welcome, though I wish I'd had only good news to share. Still, this world is decent enough, compared to many others.
[video]
[Whether or not that will be changing, as everything else is, he doesn't know.
At the remark of wishing he had good news, Estinien snorts inelegantly.]
Bad news or no, you weren't a chocobo's arse about it.
[video]
[Which, of course, has absolutely nothing to do with its captain running off for seventeen years without ever writing back. But Cecil does not allow that thought to dim his newfound smile.]
I certainly hope no one would be, in these circumstances. ...Though I must now add to the list of bad news, as there are no chocobos to be found in this world. The closest equivalent has too many heads, and they tend to bicker.
[video]
(What is it with dragoons and running off to be dramatic loners who don't write any of their friends or family?)]
Ishgard tis the only place it does, on our star.
[Maybe because most of them are only a draught of dragons blood and a ritual away from becoming dragons themselves...]
The last person I traded words with was. Tis no matter.
All this is strange. Cloudkin with multiple heads, that fight each other.
[video]
[But between that and the chocobos, he's confident that's another world he can add to the 'close, potentially enough for the gods' war' list. Certainly not Cloud's or Squall's, though. And hopefully not one that was visited by the Creator.]
And that species barely scratches the surface of this world's strangeness. It has sentient swords, sentient food-like creatures, harmless red fish that grow into Leviathan-esque sea serpents as they age... They display even greater variety than monsters, though they usually have better personalities.
[video]
[Involving betrayal, eating dragon eyes, and a thousand years of war--with the dragoon's art evolving from being knights that fought alongside their dragon allies, to knights whose sole duty it was to destroy them.
(Even if Cecil knew and mentioned Y'shtola Rhul, Estinien is not overly familiar. He knows the woman is a Scion, and a mage, but hasn't so much as spoken with her. But he's getting the same impression--that they're from similar places, somehow. He knows there are multiple worlds aligned with his own already--the various Shards--but is it that, or something else entirely?)]
...I hope that Leviathan is fair friendlier in your world than my own.
[He shakes his head.]
Tis well to know. I suppose I have a long journey ahead of me.
[And...he should probably give his name, shouldn't he.]
If there is aught you wish to call on me for, my name is Estinien Wyrmblood.
[video]
[Well, went mountain-climbing, really, but it still had a terrible effect on morale. And on Baron's ability to train new dragoons later on. And on spear-maker throughout the kingdom.
Though he's long learned that each world has its own technology level, he does not explain airships. He has the feeling he won't need to.]
He is, mostly. When you learn to know him on an official basis, and he's not attempting to sink your ship. I can only hope yours is not also prone to the occasional attack on passing vessels.
[He sighs as he recalls a certain unpleasant memory, but once the discussion moves on his smile returns. Introductions, yes, that's important.]
It's a pleasure to meet you, Estinien. My name is Cecil Harvey. Should you ever need assistance, or have any questions about this world, please do not hesitate to contact me. I've some experience with the delivery of supplies, if necessary.
[video]
[Well. Theirs are, the Garleans have massive warships, but even those have trouble standing against a hoarde of dragons, should they decide to take wing. He likes to hope that Hraesvelgr would be amenable to lending his assistance, should it become necessary.]
...that and worse. Such beings are called Primals, where I am from, and left unchecked will drain the land of all aether, if they do not render it barren by simply attacking first.
[If a ship encounters Leviathan, all the souls on it would pray to simply be sunk to the bottom of the sea. The alternative is far worse.]
You have my thanks.