brethrencourt | TEST DRIVE 001b

Entry tags:

mod post: test drive

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.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

i. arrival

[One might think a man tattered to hell and back, blood spattered, and carrying a jewel encrusted sword might already be from this world. He's certainly got the I'm A Bad Dude look already. But upon closer inspection, the torn t-shirt is too high quality to be spun from any old seamstress, and the watch is one might see under the Way Too Expensive shelving in stores.

Rafe Adler has arrived with you, and he's more than likely expecting you to know the name. Once he picks himself off the ground, he's turned with his back facing the incline and the pointy end of sword extended to you. It's all very menacing, up until he can't stand the fly buzzing around his head, leaning away with it with an irritated curse under his breath.]

Where the hell are we? Who are you?

[At least he asks basic questions, even with how extra he is.]

ii. pirate heaven, rich boy hell

[Rafe has all but sheathed the sword he's arrived with in wake of the fact it's the Gucci of weaponry. Have you ever seen a pissy rich kid throw a tantrum outside of film? Here's your chance, because this is the third time he's stormed off from a wares stall with his hands clenched so tight his knuckles are a pale white.]

You and I are seeing the same, right? You're smart enough to recognize this as stainless steel? [If he's recognized you as another Marked, he's shoving a watch easily worth hundreds into your face. The guy's too angry to consider your judge of character, gesturing out to the docks.] These morons don't think it's enough to get a a cabin in ship ride back home. It's a clock! On your wrist!

iii. you can call me on my shell phone

[Spend enough time trying to fix your hair, and you'll realize that the mirror is a way to FaceTime. Rafe's got a pretty picture for whichever Marked he's accidentally reached, which just might be one or all of them. The sun is setting, the waves are rising and falling behind him, and he's shirtless. Relax, his shirt is hanging somewhere to dry.]

I don't think we'll get to hack this thing, but it'll do. [He heaves a sigh, dragging his hand down his face before he brings himself to look back at the called.] How are you holding up, because I'm just peachy.

Edited 2017-04-30 02:10 (UTC)

[Rich kid tantrum is...Certainly one way to put it. And on the one hand, yeah. He gets it. It's frustrating. He's not exactly a history expert, but he's fairly sure, judging by...Well, everything, this is a situation where what they (he's assuming this guy is from a similar time, anyway, what with that watch he's shoving in Tony's face) consider practical and what the locals do are going to be vastly different things.

Thank God he knows how to blacksmith, at least.

Which is why his expression doesn't change a bit from the slightly annoyed one he's been wearing while scanning the horizon, entirely too full of wooden ships and not a plane in sight.]

Yeah, I do. I got one pretty similar sitting next to my Tour de l’Ile and Patek Phillipe back home. Sidebar, and feel free to ignore it if you've already maybe considered the idea, but have you thought that maybe a watch isn't the highest of priorities from people who don't seem to even know what soap is. That's the thing, though, right? Back home. Don't know if you've noticed it or not, Dorothy, but we're not exactly in Kansas anymore.

Second sidebar, they're not wrong. It's the cheapest one in my whole collection.

[Understandably, this leaves the younger rich boy a little flabbergasted. Sure, this guy had arrived with them, and he did have impeccably groomed facial hair, but... Actually, come to think of it, Tony looked much more like a million bucks than he did. Don't get pissed off about this, don't get pissed off about this...

There's a deep seated anger brewing in the glare Rafe gives him, but he has a big enough shred of self restraint not to start something when they have enough problems. He lowered the watch and redirects his gaze out to the ships, exhaling an unsteady breath.]

I'm taking up my right to ignore your sidebars for both our sake, asshole. I don't suppose you have a better idea of getting back to Kansas.

[Kids these days, you know. Such little shits. Because he's clearly never been called an asshole before. Ever. In his entire life.]

Are you gonna throw a tantrum if I say no, Monopoly Jr.? [Okay, so this is probably not the best way to go about it and while Tony Stark is not one for a whole lot of self-reflection before he opens his mouth...Usually, anyway, he takes a mental step back for a moment, before waving a hand, encompassing the docks, the people, everything around them.]

You see this? I don't think this is some living history vacation destination. And if it is, these people are extremely dedicated to it, and I'm kinda hoping they get bonus checks for the authentic smell.

Now, I could be wrong, but I'm guessing it's going to take more than clicking your heels together for that to happen. So no, I don't have a better way. Yet.

i. arrival

Oliver was lining up a shot to finally take out Adrian Chase for good and then his arrow sailed off into a jungle that did not look like the one he was currently in. It took all his training not to slide down the hill he seemed to be standing on. He yanked off his hood, leaving the mask on and looked around. "What the hell just happened," he asked out loud, but the communication device in his ear just gave him static in reply. He muttered an oath in Russian and started walking bow held at the ready.

ii. TORTUGA

Oliver was surprised how well 18th century clothes fit him. He'd managed to over take a solider and steal his uniform and now he was wandering this town and trying to figure out who he could trust. He did wish he could have his bow or a modern weapon at hand. He really didn't like swords given they'd been part of some of his worst memories, but he was going to have to deal with it.

i. arrival

"What the hell is this," Gibbs said as he looked around the jungle. Last thing he could remember was standing over a body and now he was in the middle of a place that looked like a bad war flashback. He moved down the hill gun held loosely in one hand ready for any kind of trouble.

ii. port royal

Pirates....Tony would love this place. It was like a wet dream from an Errol Flynn movie or something. Gibbs had done his best to ditch his modern clothes and find something that fit in a little better, so instead of jeans, NCIS cap and dress shirt, he'd managed to find something that looked like it came from a romance novel. The only thing he'd kept was his gun tucked in his boot as he wandered the market looking for a familiar face.

i; arrival; pretend the world has ended
[There's so much green - healthy green - when he comes to that he is sure - s u r e that this is either the highest he's ever been, or he's finally gone and bit the big one. Maybe he'd finally done it, gone feral, and someone put him down. Because the Commonwealth has its green, most of it from fallout and radiation, to be honest, but there's nothing there quite like this. Trees that are alive and healthy and there's no tingle of radiation and...

Honestly, at first he's content to just look around himself a moment and not ask questions. If he's gone feral and gotten his brains blown out - or what's left of 'em, anyway, well. Fuck. There are worse places he can imagine as the afterlife. There are birds in the trees, but their songs sound different, less...Broken. Less twisted, maybe.

He's still not entirely sure it's not a comedown, though, but whatever. If it is, it is, and he'll just ride this last wave to the crash at the end.]

Well, would you get a load of this fucking place. [He takes a moment, turns in a circle where he stands, still fixated on the green.]

That preacherman in Diamond City liked to go on about the hereafter or whatever that churchy shit was he was preaching but I never thought he was right. [Not with a world like theirs.

But he's not alone, which is the next thing he notices. He's still not sure it's not a hallucination, but...Well, he can work with it. Like he really has anything to lose, whichever scenario it is.]

You're seeing this right, all this green?

ii; tortuga; you wear troubles well
[So it's not sky high and it's not the afterlife. Well, the jury's still out on the second part, but he's got the sneaking suspicion John Hancock is alive and well and in a place that's never been touched by radiation. And despite the shantyness of the town below the forest, it seems more put together than the settlements in the Commonwealth; less slapped together from salvaged scrap and more purposely shitty.

He can dig it.

He's even dressed for the occasion, if the way anyone else looks is any indication, though it's a b s o l u t e l y clear most (read: all) of them have never seen a ghoul before. That's their problem, though.

So far, however, he has been unsuccessful in exchanging caps for goods, they want gold and if he'd known that, gold's fucking everywhere in the wasteland. It's useless. As far as he knows, gold-based currency went out when the bombs dropped and while that leads to some mindblowing implications, he's just not that lucky.

He's been watching one particular building - he's pretty sure it's a brothel or a whorehouse or something - simply out of lack of anything better to do, leaned against what looks like a blacksmith's, when one particular normal human gentleman who looks worse than Hancock could any day of the week walks by and actually physically recoils when he gets a look at his face. Normally he's fine with it. Normally, he lets it roll off his back - he did this to himself. But it's been a long day, he's entirely too sober for this shit, and he still has no idea what's going on, and bares his teeth in a grimace.]

That's a good way to get yourself dead, friend.

Edited 2017-04-30 23:11 (UTC)

I. Arrival

He's no stranger to waking up in new places. He's also no stranger to not remembering how he got there. He usually at least knows which realm or city he's in though, even if everything after that gets a bit fuzzy. So whatever's happening right now is a bit strange for him.

He doesn't bother trying to go up the incline. Not because he knows it won't get him anywhere, but because he knows that going down the incline will eventually lead to the sea, and the sea is where he's best able to orient himself. There tend to be people there, too, although that's not as big a concern right now because he's not alone here.

"Bloody hell. What did I drink last night?"

II. TORTUGA

Tortuga. He's been hearing about it for years, since even before his days in the Royal Navy (there's no more wretched hive of scum and villainy, or at least so Liam had assured him), but somehow even in all his years of piracy, he's never managed to make it here. Well now he's determined to change that. There's nothing to keep him from it. It almost seems to be expected of him, in fact.

And now that he's here, boy, is he going to be making the most of it. The first place he heads is straight for the tavern, fistfights and all, because what kind of pirate would he be if he didn't get sloshed on rum? He might even get into a fistfight or two himself.

But of course he can't keep himself from heading to the brothel, too. It's been too long since he enjoyed the company of a woman, and it's much less fuss if he pays for it.

He staggers back to the tavern later in the evening. He's going to enjoy his time here.

Edited 2017-05-01 01:32 (UTC)

i. arrival. pay attention, none of this is happening by accident.
[Tropical paradises are okay. He's great with those, when he remembers those are a thing long enough to do something about before retreating like a...Whatever retreats into caves like he does his workshop occasionally. It doesn't matter. Point is, he's fine with the whole tropical vacation thing.

What he is not fine with is going on a tropical vacation without any warning while running some configurations for things he's working on (suits) out of nowhere, when moments before he'd been in his workshop. That's the part he's not okay with. He's also not okay, when he actually takes a moment to look around himself, realizing he's not exactly alone on this little adventure. You'd think with him knowing Norse gods and all the flat out weird of the last few years he'd be used to the weird coming to him and weird things happening.

And you'd be wrong.]

What is this, some kind of mass kidnapping by USS Enterprise or something?

ii. tortuga. they say money talks but you ain't sayin' nothing, shh.
[Well, one thing Tortuga is not is a place to kick back with a mai tai and work on the old suntan while not even pretending not to look at beach bunnies wearing practically nothing. It is definitely not that kind of place. Tony's not exactly sure what he's been expecting, following the noise that slowly became far away music, which became lights and louder music and shouting and gunshots and the sound of distant fist fights. That hasn't included what he does find, when he actually reaches Tortuga proper, which is a slowly darkening sky and wooden ships crowded together down below, far down the dirt path that leads to the wide, clear expanses of tropic ocean, packed in together like sardines, more anchored off shore beyond that, and longboats lining what he can see of the sandy beach.

There are tents down there, as well, and noise from them as well as light, and as he starts passing building by rickety wooden building, he is painfully aware that 'authentic' might not be the word he's looking for. Not when he's mean-mugged by a guy with a peg leg and his eyepatched pal, not from the come-hither looks from a couple of women in a shadow corner, wearing more clothes than he's ever seen on a call girl and still managing to make it seem like he shouldn't get caught staring too long. No, given that, the lamps that have flame and oil hanging above on wooden posts, the music...The entire atmosphere, he's fairly sure the word he's looking for is real.

He can't explain it. Isn't going to try, he can't be sure he's not having a stroke or something. Maybe it's the way that, under all of that noise, there's silence. No undercurrent hum of electricity, betraying what he sees with his own two eyes. He's not even sure how he knows that, but he's willing to be he is.

He finally stops in front of a particularly noisy bar (tavern?), the doors constantly swinging open and shut as sober people go in, and drunk people stumble out, the latter significantly louder. Notable are the accents from a million different places, and yeah. He's sure real is exactly the word he's looking for.

And isn't that a terrifying thought? In a way? But he's saved from following that rabbit hole in his mind when he sees someone dressed a hell of a lot more normal than the Long John Silvers and Captain Hooks running around this place and does his best to appear nonchalant about it, as he makes his way over. And very much not like he's looking for normal people in what is quite possibly a town full of pirates.]

So what's the over-under on this being a mass hallucination, or are we just going with the theory that time travel is suddenly real and we'd better start brushing up on our sea shanties and binge drinking we haven't really used since college skills.

iii. mirror. everybody ain't got it, understand son - this shit is not random.
[It hasn't taken long to figure out what the mirror does, and while it's crude, in his opinion, and perma-spotted, since he's scrubbed at the actual glass for forever and nothing's changed, it'll do. If it means long distance communication, or reaching the masses as a whole, that's probably the best case scenario he could hope for.

Which is why, though he feels really stupid talking to a mirror, he's doing it anyway, having found a nice corner of the beach that is not pirate-infested and where he won't be overheard.]

Alright, hopefully this gets to the new tattoo club - I mean, I can't guarantee it, mirrors don't work that way because science - but I figured it's time we all have our little meet and greet, implement some kind of buddy system since we're on Treasure Island Does Acid.

What I'm mostly interested in is where and when you're from. I don't know, maybe there's some kind of pattern to this thing and if there's a pattern to why we're here, maybe there's a pattern that'll get us home. So don't be shy, share with the rest of the class.

Edited 2017-05-01 02:02 (UTC)

It's been...Well. It's been a while since his last little sojourn into Tortuga. The early days of the curse at the very latest and...She never changes, does she? That, he supposes, is the one good thing he can count on. The world can be falling to pieces around her and it won't matter, because her taverns and brothels will be open, and those that make up her ever-shifting population will always be three sheets to a good strong wind and not have a solitary idea of what's going on around them beyond idle drunken gossip.

It is, in effect, good to be "home".

Good to be home, fresh out of battle that Joshamee Gibbs will be drinking on for years if he plays his cards right, and in the time Hector's known him, he's never known him not to do just that. He's half wondered if Jack has any idea how wily his first mate actually is, but if Jack doesn't...Well, he's certainly not going to be the one tell him, is he?

The door opens frequently enough that it's only by chance he happens to glance up from his own business - a bottle of his own and a list of things needed on the Pearl as she is woefully in need of refitting after the day - to catch a glimpse of the newcomer and he feels like, really, he can blame Jack for this new breed of pirate. A once over says a lot of flash and no substance, but he's never been one to keep that initial first judgement as the right one.

"Look at that, Fanny got herself a new fancy lad and he's managed to stumble hisself where the actual pirates ply their business."

Edited 2017-05-01 04:32 (UTC)

i. arrival

[Lizzie could have sworn she had just left her coronation- next thing she knew she was waking up in this forest. She was still dressed- her crown off kilter on her head, her furs and jewels still in place. As she sat up, she took mental count of everything she could remember- finding nothing missing except for the castle that should be around her.

There are others around, none that she knows nor recognizes- whether that be a blessing or a curse is still unknown. Pulling herself to her feet, with her shoulders squared, she peers at the incline first- then to the person nearest herself.]

What is this?

ii. tortuga

[Lizzie took care to lock up her precious jewels and crown in a trunk in a room she was lodging in, for the fair price of her earrings. They granted her a long enough stay that she may look for another place... Or a way home, as she would much prefer.

The young Tudor Queen had foregone her fancier of gowns in favor of a simple cotehardie, though such still seemed out of place here... But she found it much more comfortable than wearing her more prized possessions in an unknown land. Especially as she scurries past alleys where men are fighting-

Or at the particularly loud "bang" (of a gunshot) that sounds so foreign to her that she jumps and squeaks, losing her composure for just a moment. Eyes wide, she pauses for just a moment to find a friendlier face in the crowd.]

What was that?

iii. wildcard

[ choose your own adventure! i'm down for anything really, but if you want to plot something, go ahead and Pm this account. ]

You wanna find out, old man? [Rafe mutters, turning his attention back out to the scene of Tortuga. He places a hand on his hip and scrunches his nose, looking down at his boots like if he considered hard enough, maybe it would work if they were expensive enough.

God, he wishes. It's becoming increasingly obvious he's not worth anything here, and he's got the feeling Tony is probably worth more back home. Somehow.]

Yet. Well, when you concoct some worthwhile plan, Mr. Brain, you let me know. I'll be over here trying to consider how in the hell it's even remotely possible this isn't some reenactment.

[He's about to walk off, and he should walk off, but he takes about two steps past Tony before he's rounding back on him.]

Tour de l’Ile? Patek Phillipe? Who even are you?

[Green is not unusual to Andora. The type of green, however, is. No trees like this in the Dyrwood, that's for sure.

She doesn't quite have time to wonder about it when Hancock speaks up. She looks over, and is immediately not sure what to make of the ghoul. By all appearances, he shouldn't be as lucid as he is, at least with her experience with undead. She places a hand on her sword, regarding him with caution.]

What, do you not get out of your crypt that often, revenant?

[If there was a question as to whether he was high, being mildly threatened by a woman that looks like a walking campfire probably doesn't help.]

If I had to guess-- someplace none of us belong.

[Not that Steph knew that for certain just yet, but it only took her a few minutes of looking around at the disparate array of individuals to put her suspicions in order. She had been in the process of making her way through the group of people, making sure that everyone was on their feet and no one was injured. It was always easier for her to slip into that role of being Captain America in situations like this. Already she's thinking that the best option is probably to follow the path down and see where it leads. Tactically, she'd like to get a few from higher up, but her brief forray into the attempt hadn't been particularly fruitful.]

Are you alright, Miss...?

[There's a round shield on her arm, and she's dressed in a sort of uniform that's probably strangely modern to the other woman's eyes. She's tall, broad-shouldered, with a messy ponytail that falls over one shoulder and a look of concern that glints in her eyes.]

[Steph was making the rounds of the people nearby, doing her best to make sure that everyone was alright, and no one had hit their head or was elsewise in need of medical attention after-- whatever had happened. She'd work out her feelings on the issue later. First came dealing with the situation at hand, gathering information, and then the rest of it. Once she'd figured out what to do with a group of people who may or may not be stranded on a tropical island, then she could worry about the how of it all.. and the following how to get back.

But the man with the sword gets her attention, mostly because he points it at her as she starts to approach, and she pauses, looking him over. She gives him a moment, aware that everyone seems to be in the same situation and that it makes for good people who are very rattled. Even when he leans away, she obligingly keeps her distance for the moment. She's tall, a little broad in the shoulders, wearing what looks to be some sort of uniform in red white and blue with a matching shield on her arm.]

Still working on that answer. I'm Stephanie Rogers. What's your name?

[She easily pegs him as being fairly modern, which not everyone in the little group is, she's found out. There are questions, but she's trying not to ruffle feathers any further than they already are- while doing her best to keep everyone safe and make this a little less terrifying for the other people, if she can manage it.]

[Elizabeth watched her before she had turned to even look the Queen's way, her gaze soft, concerned but no less calculating. A woman who carried a shield and dressed in some odd sort of uniform... And pants.

They shouldn't be here- that was hardly surprising. How often did you wake in a strange place to find that it's exactly where you belonged? Still, it was nice to have the confirmation. She did not smile- how could she when she was torn away from her son and her family?]

Elizabeth... I am not hurt, thank you. [She pauses a moment.] The crest on your shield, I'm afraid I'm not familiar with it. [Nor the strange clothing, for that matter. But first thing first: ensure she does not fight for an enemy army.]

[ Figuring out the mirror and what it was all about was one of the first things Peter did once he came to. It had to be important to be on their person. He's not really sure if it works the way it's supposed to until he sees Tony through it and doesn't even bother to hide his grin. What a relief to see a familiar face. ]

Pretty sure the rules of science don't apply here, Mr. Stark.

[ Stating the obvious but it bears repeating. ]

Hold up. What did he just hear someone say? Someone who appears to have glued a dead animal to his face. Just because you're out at sea most of the time doesn't mean you can't wash yourself once in awhile. He manages it, and with only one hand, at that.

"I've been captaining a ship for over two hundred years. I was a pirate before your grandparents were even born." And he hasn't even lost his ship once.

Oh, even better. It's one of those.

Hector simply stares at him a moment, almost imperceptible and dry smile ticking one corner of his mouth upward ever so slightly, dried blood still there on one side of his face from the battle with Jones, all while he waits on Jack to grace him with his presence (he's about this close to finding said pirate and dragging him out by those ridiculous beads from whatever whorehouse he's probably tucked himself away in, honestly), and here, in this tavern. In this town. Right here. Comes some upstart with a claim like that and-

"Two hundred years." He makes a face, as though he's mulling that thought over. "Impressive. But seein' as I've never heard of you, I doubt it. Run along, child, the adults are working."

And with that, he gives an imperious, dismissive wave of his free hand.

Two hundred years indeed. Given everything, he's fairly sure he'd have heard something if any such fool nonsense was true.

II. Tortuga

[ There's a feeling you get when you've been gone from someplace familiar for a very long time, only to return and find that it's exactly how you left it. It's a feeling that brings back the most mundane of muscle memories, the kind of which make it easy to retrace your steps and puzzle out the very things you did before you left, the things you don't remember because it's so routine and regular that there’s no point in obtaining the memories.

This is the exact feeling Jack Sparrow gets when he arrives in Tortuga, looking past the railing of his ship and onto the crowds below.

When Jack makes his way down the gangplank, he arrives at the exact spot he'd stood last he was here. The same spot where he'd held out his compass to Elizabeth Swann and was all too easily able to turn her desperation to reunite with her dear William to his own need to find the Heart of Davy Jones.

He'd found it, of course.

He died not long after.

The spot on the dock shines brightly in his memory, but he walks past it without sparing a beat. Because truly, Jack has a lot of memories that shine bright in Tortuga, here in the closest place he has to a home. If he were to stand around all day and remember each one of them, he'd get nothing done at all. And he does have quite a lot to do today.

It's a lot less partying than you might imagine from Jack Sparrow. As Captain of the Black Pearl, it is his job (and, a thought reluctantly conceded, Barbossa's) to make repairs for her, and make sure she's in tip top shape for the next Adventure of Jack Sparrow. Unfortunately, she does need repairs, especially after their run in with the Flying Dutchman and the entire EITC fleet. As much as he would love to find a bottle of rum, as well as Scarlett and Giselle for some pleasant company, he needs to do the duties that come with being Captain Jack Sparrow.

You can find Jack anywhere in the city. He'll be walking (swaying, rather, as though in time with the motion of the absent ties. Or the swaying of a man whose veins run full of rum instead of blood. Or, perhaps, both?), completely undeterred by the shattering of bottles, the shouts, and the fistfights, all of which have become the signature of Tortuga. He looks like a man who knows this city, inside and out and who may be willing to help. For a price. ]

1. Music of the Streets

[A young boy steps out into the middle of the Tortuga market. There doesn't seem to be anything special to him, and yet, with a worn, red sheet of fabric, he quietly claims the space. There is enough room to go around him, but those who pause will see him lay a neat stack of paper in the middle of the scrap. He takes the shamisen from where it is strapped to his back, takes a deep breath, and raises his hand to the sky, bachi-style pick in hand. The pick comes crashing down for one solid note.]

If you must blink, do it now.

[With all the dramatic stage presence of a seasoned street performer, the boy begins to play. Green paper swirls up into the air like a perfectly choreographed storm. In the center sits a myriad of color sheets; the first of which folds itself into the red figure of a man--the coolest pirate you can imagine. Another transforms into his sword, and he slices through the paper gale and emerges on the other side.

The music stops, two echoing notes hanging in the air. The paper freezes.]

Any suggestions?

2. Mirrors

[In feudal Japan, mirrors are an expensive commodity. Having grown up in a literal cave, Kubo has certainly never had one. Not really caring for his appearance, he forgets he even has it for the longest time. Until one day, he has something stuck in his teeth.

Enjoy that view of a child's dirty gums and that huge piece of seaweed lodged between them. He has never even heard of a toothbrush. You can see right up his nose, too. What a view.]

3. Make Like a Ship and Leaf

[It breaks the crest of the furthest wave like any ship might, the sea parting for its hull. As the sloop nears you, however, you realize its one sail is not canvass. The rails are not oak. The entirety of the ship is made of leaves from the forest. The rudder turns on its own, turning hard to starboard until its port side is facing you. There are no doors from which cannons might emerge, but it's always good to be cautious.

Only one figure stands on deck: a young, one-eyed child with a stringed instrument strapped to his back. The one man crew brandishes a sword in the air.]

Turn over your best supplies, or . . . or the ship gets it!

["Because science?" And how does someone "do" acid? Ninety percent of what this guy is saying makes no sense to Kubo, and his nose scrunches up in confusion. Still, it's a question he's curious enough to want answered, too, so he pipes in.]

I'm from Japan. I lived above a small village by the sea.

[Going by his dirty, traditional garb, it would be safe to say Edo to Meiji era. Feudal Japan, that is.]

Edited (ffff new icons sorry) 2017-05-02 02:56 (UTC)

[The thing about the Commonwealth, and the wasteland in general, and especially for someone that has never known a world before the bombs fell, is that weird shit? It's still weird. He won't lie. But a person becomes so desensitized to it that it's hard to even pretend to bat an eyelash.

Well.

Maybe a little bat.

...If he still had eyelashes, that is.

But revenant, that's new. That's one he hasn't been called before, so mental mark on the mental chalkboard for that. One day he'll tally up the names for the undead he's been called and have a good laugh over it.

But this is definitely not helping the sky high theory in the slightest.]

Next you're gonna tell me all us zombies look alike, am I right? Typical racist.

[There's actually a joke in there somewhere, but the humor is his, and his alone.]

So here's the thing. [It's said as he reaches into a pocket, fingers tapping inside between a Grey Tortoise or the switchblade tucked in there.] We play this cool. You don't stab me, I don't kill you, we live to see the end of the day and maybe find out what's going on.

[#youknowwhoheis

But, okay, maybe he has been expecting that, maybe he hasn't. Tony's not even sure anymore at this point, after finding himself in some kind of...Twisted Peter Pan story or something. He doesn't expect the name Tony Stark to mean a damn thing to the more piratical natured running around this place, but other people? Maybe?

Maybe he's just a little disappointed it's stolen his thunder to realize that some people apparently live under a rock. And for a moment, he says nothing, reaching up to scratch at the side of his nose, before looking back to the docks briefly.]

My name's Tony Stark. And if you don't know what infinite cylinders, string theory, and cosmic strings are, then you should be nice to me, because I'm the guy that's going to figure this out.

[And if he sounds arrogant it's...Well, it's because he is, for one. For another, he is, like...70% sure he can actually back that claim up. Maybe a high 67%. Still, he figures it's better odds than anyone else is boasting.]

No, I'm pretty sure science still works. Gravity's still kicking, as far as I can tell, physics are still working because I don't even want to imagine what kind of mess the ocean would make. These things run on something. It's just figuring out what.

[But that is absolutely not even the point and how dare you distract him like that, Peter.]

But for that I need to break this baby open and obviously I kind of can't at the moment. So back to the original question: Where and when.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 9

TEST DRIVE 001b

Rafe Adler | Uncharted 4

ii - i can't help myself, i'm sorry

don't be sorry i feel so alive

no subject

Oliver Queen l DCTV l ota

Jethro Gibbs l NCIS l ota

john hancock + fallout 4 + gentle test drive

Captain Hook | Once Upon a Time

tony stark | mcu

II. Tortuga - fair warning, Jack Sparrow is also incoming. To this thread. At an undisclosed time.

Elizabeth of York | the white princess | ota

no subject

i

i

i

no subject

iii hey it's ur adopted not-son

oh dear. batten down the hatches and grab the rum!

no subject

Jack Sparrow | idk some movie about priates

Kubo | Kubo & the Two Strings

iii

no subject

no subject

oh kid are u in for a rude surprise tho