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.
[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.