brethrencourt | TEST DRIVE 001b

Try on those ridiculous clothes, sample the catering, and run through your lines. It's time for the Long 18th Test Drive.

ARRIVAL: Characters come to in a dark, tropical forest in a huddle. There are the sounds of strange birds, animals, and insects all around, some of them perhaps worryingly close. With a closer inspection, arrivals realize they're on an incline: Going up will prove fruitless, no matter who they are. The ground there starts to grow rocky the further they climb, and they may find themselves slipping back down to their arrival point, even if they're expert mountain climbers. The ground sloping downward will eventually level out leading toward light, music, and noise. But for the moment, they're simply a group of lost people (or monsters/bipedal animals/robots/etc) with no idea where they are or how they got here. Now's probably a good time to ask, "Who the hell are you? Where am I?" Time to use the buddy system.

TORTUGA: There's a town off the coast of Hispaniola that never sleeps, and that town is Tortuga. It's swapped hands more times than anyone can count, but for now, the French have it. And they do like the extra money the pirates that frequent it bring in; they like it so much that they imported over 1600 prostitutes from Europe to keep them happy. So you might as well relax while you're here, as much as you can with random gunshots and fist fights, anyway. Drop in for a drink at the Faithful Bride, check out the wares for sale (provided to you tax-free thanks to piracy) near the dock front. Visit the warehouse where those ill-gotten goods are stored and distributed. Maybe you're looking for work on a ship? The captains can usually be found - frazzled and busy - in the taverns and at the shipwrights and everywhere in between (just look for the hats), and if they're in a good mood, they might be willing. But the key point of Tortuga is this: Have fun. Some examples might include: A barfight! Wandering into a brothel (maybe by mistake)! Getting duped into joining a crew! There's no end of trouble to get into.

MIRROR POST: When they arrived, every person found, in a pocket or a bag or tucked away somewhere on their person, a little compact mirror. It's nothing fancy: Square, with hinges and a latch that keep it closed, the outer casing carved from seashell, the inner mirror a little spotted with age. But if it's played around with enough, it quickly becomes apparent it works as a communication device. Here you have access to all of the marked folks, no matter how far and wide they might spread. Need to have a heart to heart with a buddy in Singapore? Want to send out a general ad to everyone at large? Looking for answers to questions? This is the quickest way to get all of that.

CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE: The world is open, and it's full of pearls that are just waiting for you to take them. Maybe you want to have some quiet time to scrub clean in a bathhouse in Singapore. Perhaps you're visiting the fabled pirate city of Libertalia in Madagascar. Maybe you've found yourself lost in Mayan ruins or stranded on an island. Or you were shipwrecked in a hurricane. Or you've decided to relocate to Port Royal or one of the American colonies for a quieter sort of life. Either way, this is your story, might as well make it a good one.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[As far as Christine can tell, she's been somehow resurrected to the land of the living. She hasn't figured out the how or the why but if living in literal Hell for a while has taught her anything, it's to just roll with whatever chaos that comes forth.

Except she can't help but stare when she sees Hancock's face. She's not afraid, no. Unlike most people around here, she has definitely seen someone that lacks a proper nose before. It's a bit uncanny how similar this man's appearance is compared to her beloved Erik's...

Hancock may be talking to the man that just grimaced at him but Christine takes a step closer and acts as if he's talking to her.]

Are you offering? I'd hate to keep my loved ones downstairs waiting for me. [Her tone is a bit joking. She's not looking to start any sort of fight. She just can't resist talking to a man that looks like death walking around in broad daylight without a mask. It's fascinating.]

[On the one hand, at least someone's got a sense of humor, but Hancock keeps his eyes on the guy until he skitters on down the street before bothering to acknowledge it. He rarely thinks "fucking smoothskins" but he has the feeling this place might actually just change that, if that's the kind of reaction he can expect. Maybe he's been right this whole time: Maybe shutting himself in Goodneighbor has made him soft and complacent. And that's never a good thing.]

Depends. Do you need it? [He has lines he draws, after all. They're wobbly, and can bend if he needs them to, but they're still lines. A for effort and all that.

But there's nothing in this own tone that implies he's remotely serious, either.]

You don't look like you're from around here, but you damn sure don't look like your from the Commonwealth, either. You just randomly show up in some pre-war wonderland, too?

[She smiles, glad that some sort of ice has been broken with that tease. One can never be too careful when dealing with people that are more than likely stronger than you.]

Not quite yet. I'll let you know once I've figured this place out.

[But then with his next question, some of that humor fades from her features. Time to be more serious, she supposes. Christine has no idea how to make any sense of where she thinks she actually came from. Was it all an elaborate dream? It's all a bit insane.]

If I told you where I'm from, I doubt you'd believe me. I barely believe me at this point. Not sure I'd call this place a wonderland but plants that aren't trying to bite my head off are a nice change. [She catches herself starting to ramble on without actually answering the question. Unfortunately, just because she catches herself it doesn't mean much. Christine just keeps talking. Despite her cool and collected exterior...she's nervous.]

I have no idea where the Commonwealth is or of which war you're speaking but what I'm trying to say is yes. For whatever reason, I've found myself here as well. You looked like someone that might have an idea of what's going on so here I am, being a bit of a bother.

Lady, at this point I don't think there's much I won't believe. [Which is actually pretty true. The last...Few hours, anyway, have been full of some very weird shit, and that's saying something, coming from a man that looks like he does, coming from a place where things like two-headed deer and giant killer chameleons are kind of the norm.

Murder-plants seem kind of tame, actually, now that he thinks about it. If there's anything like that out in the vast expanses of the hellscape that is wasteland, well. He hasn't heard of it, but he wouldn't be surprised.]

You know, the Commonwealth. Formerly known as Boston before everybody pushed the big red buttons and dropped the bombs. [He kind of doubts she does know, however.] What I can tell you, though, is that is definitely a whorehouse [with a nod at the building he'd been idly watching] -and this is definitely a blacksmith, and this place is definitely a little hinky, you feel me?

I was dead. As content as one could be residing in literal Hell. Sulfur and brimstone, the whole nine yards. [Murder-plants are just the tip of the iceberg, really.]

Pretty sure I've just been resurrected somehow because this place feels an awful lot like actually being alive again. Which sounds insane when I say it out loud. No way to really prove it, though. Could just be some particularly potent Hell wine.

[Christine laughs because...she should really avoid strange beverages more than she does. She easily moves on from her own story and focuses on what he's saying, though.]

See, now I know where Boston is. Can't say I've ever been to America, though. Lived my life on the other side of the ocean. [Nope, no clue about the bombs. When she had been alive the first time, scientists were just discovering radioactivity. In death, most of the knowledge she's picked up is related to music or...completely useless trivia.

She raises an eyebrow and gives him a look that includes a slightly exaggerated eye roll.]

I'm not that dense, I know what a blacksmith's looks like. But yes, I feel you. But. [A thought is occurring to her and sorry, new corpse-faced friend. She might just drag you along for it.]

If this is really the living world, that means there's living world food. As in, it'll actually be edible, not be completely rotten through with some sort of magical Hell mold that'll make you grow horns or it won't still be writhing on the plate. It's never fun when you have to eat your food before it eats you, you know? [This woman is far too excited about something so simple.] Alcohol that doesn't vaguely taste like it's already been thrown up? I take that back, this place could be a wonderland. [A small pause.]

Care to join me on a food adventure, fellow traveler?

[What hasn't occurred to her quite yet is that she's going to need money to pay for that food. Or she'll have to steal it.]

TEST DRIVE 001b

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