01 - a retired lord commander walks into a bar

[thunderwarden]

01 the market stalls

Freedom tasted sweet, and since the moment he was brought to Flotsam, he got the impression he was going to like it here. Striding through one passage or another, listening to the erratic but somehow melodious sounds of Flotsam, he knew he could find a place here. It was busy, there were parts of it that smelled, but it was free, and it was populated by an eclectic bunch of renegades that reminded him so much of his own it made him homesick.

Which meant ploughing on until he secured his own space to brood in and hopefully acclimate to this place. After months slaving under Imperial lashes working on their machines, being here seemed like something of a miracle, and while he was bone tired, soul tired even, he couldn't very well leave the lot of them to their own devices. That meant he needed to be prepared, he needed to figure out what his role would be in this place, and he needed to meet the locals. So, top of the list? Preparation. The Empire had stripped him of all he'd had on him at the time, and that included his swords. They'd need to be replaced, which meant a trip to the market stalls for gear and armor if he was going to be of any use to these people who'd given him a chance at freedom.

He started at a weapons stall, testing the weight of swords with the skill of a man who'd done so all his life, sighting down the blades, one after another, feeling their weight in his hand. "Fine craftsmanship, mate." He smirked at the vendor, "less, of course, you don't make 'em here, then good eye, I guess. Either way, I'll take it."

He spends a bit more time browsing wares, getting a feel for the place, the sorts of goods that cross the decks of a floating city and the sorts of conversations that are had among the market stalls, finding a blessing by the end of it: a satchel of tobacco and rolling papers. Maybe fate's smiling on him after all.

02 waterlogged row

Taverns the world over, and those from another world he used to call home, shared common threads: people unwound there, they drank some kind of swill, and they talked. Where normally Cid would be taking this as an opportunity to learn ought that was going on around the realm, his knowledge of this world he'd found himself in was still limited to the point that he was just absorbing pieces: geography, politics beyond what little he'd been able to glean from overheard conversations from his captors, and anything else that might be useful.

Or rumors of where he could be useful. By the way he strode into the tavern in question, he knew how to use the swords at his hip, but he wasn't walking in threatening people with them, either. Instead, he makes to prop up the bar, so to speak, lighting a freshly rolled cigarette and ordering whatever's on tap while he keeps an eye out for any interesting individuals who might stride in.

03 wildcard

( ooc: Cid can be found in various places around Flotsam, as he's getting acclimated. I'd be totally down you you setting your own scene, or if you'd me to write a prompt, drop me a line! )

Comments

[thunderwarden]

Thank goodness for that.

He chuckles at that. "Aye, that'll put a stop to anyone's heroics." But he's not an unobservant man, if he was he wouldn't have lived this long being as reckless as he is, and he can tell talking about his family saddens the lad. He could relate. There was a reason he was trying his best not to think of home.

"Clever that. A hidden blade, is it? Maybe something spring-loaded?" His first hint he knows anything at all about engineering himself.

[purplexing]

"Exactly!" Donnie pipes, always glad to find a willing ear for his babblings. "I'll have to rework the end-cap to accommodate it, but it's not like this hasn't been a constant work in progress. There's always ways to make it better."

He looks up at Cid. "Have you worked with something like that before?"

[thunderwarden]

"Not this specifically, but I've got a good enough grasp on how moving parts make other parts move to follow the idea. Trick's making the joint sturdy enough to withstand the force of actually using it, though."

He starts to have a look around at the surrounding stalls for something that might pull off what Donnie was looking for.

"You do plan on using it, don't you?"

[purplexing]

Donnie nods thoughtfully. "I've considered that. Definitely be the most tricky part, balancing sturdiness while compacting the means to properly eject the blade."

He looks over things, trying not to get too distracted by anything else that might catch his eye, but he's always open to looking for potential parts and items that might serve for later projects.

"It'd be a pointless addition if I wasn't," he says, brow arching at the man. "...it doesn't have to necessarily be as a weapon." He can think of plenty of good uses for blades that don't involve lobbing off someone's arm.

[thunderwarden]

"Depends on the materials, too. Steel's the most likely, most common, too. Do you know if this world's got any mithril? Stuff's light as air and sturdier than diamond once it's worked. Doesn't rust. Back home, our own Imperials love the stuff, but there's a trick to working it."

He nodded at Donnie's declaration. No, it didn't need to be used as a weapon, but having one ready was always a good idea. "Aye, lad, that's true enough, but you should always be ready to have a blade turned on you and meet it in kind."

[purplexing]

"Mithril's available!" Donnie says. "But it is rare. Titanium's the next best thing- that's what I used for this rebuild- my first one got dented in pretty badly so it wouldn't retract, and that was steel."

He tries to hide a wince at the reminder. "I know. But I can still meet a blade with a staff."

[thunderwarden]

"And then you need someone to work it properly, which is even more rare, at least the mithril where I'm from. Usually takes a smith a few decades to master the craft." And he knows one, but Blackthorne's not here to his knowledge. If he is, though...he's rescuing that man in a heartbeat. "Titanium's not one I've heard of, but I wield swords, I don't forge 'em."

The man invented a forge, but that didn't mean he knew how to properly work one. That took artistry he'd leave to his betters. "Aye, lad, you can, at least one made of metal, and you can bludgeon a man into submission as easily as you can bleed him out."

[purplexing]

"Yeah?" Sounds like an intriguing challenge to him! "I'll admit, I've only heard of it. I know that General-grade Armor uses it. Titanium's a step between that and steel if we're talking most commonly used. Lightweight, but even sturdier than steel."

Donnie smiles wryly while he lets his eyes wander the various trinkets of one of the booths. "It helps to know where to hit most effectively. At least a staff doesn't make things as messy." He pauses to pick up a pocket watch, turning it over between his fingers.

[thunderwarden]

"Sounds like the stuff's just as rare here, then. Imperial Dragoons wear the stuff where I'm from. They answer to the Imperial Prince so they warrant fancy gear, I suppose." He shrugs. "'Course, they also get pretty jumpy with their spears, so lighter garb's a bonus. Maybe we ought to keep an eye out for the stuff, next time we've an outing. Even if we can't do anything with it now, wouldn't hurt to have it on hand, eh?"

He raises an eyebrow at the pocket watch. "Any plans for that?"

[purplexing]

Donnie snickers a little. "Oh, I don't doubt that it's rare. But I'm not talking armor you wear, I mean the big ones that are piloted." He grins. "Have you been to the armory in the Vault? If not I can show you some time- I scavenged a Commander-class Armor. Titanium-grade, needs some repairs, but it can fly!"

He is so excited to get that thing running.

"But you're absolutely right, it's always good having some backup material, ready for upgrading or what have you!"

That's a good question though. Donnie hums thoughtfully as he winds the knob to see if it still works.

"Not specifically. But I can find a lot of uses for tiny gears and springs. Or who knows, maybe someone else will want a chronometer built into their ENC." He glances up at Cid, smiling crookedly as he holds his left wrist up to show the bracer he wears, flipping the cover up with a finger. "I designed this one. Makes it easier to access when you've got your hands full."

[thunderwarden]

Piloted armor? That flies Donatello immediately has his attention. Before things went sideways back home, Cid and his daughter were working on trying to figure out how the Fallen empire's ships had flown. He's wanted to understand the airships here since, well, since the first time he was transported on one while under the Empire's yoke.

"That sounds handy enough." He nods. "And I might be interested. I wouldn't mind having a look at your armor, either. For...academic reasons. I've been trying to understand the airships since I got here, but they weren't exactly forthcoming with information."

[purplexing]

"Swing by the Vault some time and I'll set you up," Donnie promises. "And I'll gladly show you the Armor too!" He smiles knowingly. Academic reasons, huh.

"Oh, I'm not surprised. Especially if you're talking Imperials. They don't like to share." He pats at his pockets before pulling out some payment for the watch. "You're in luck though; as it so happens, I've got an airship you can have a look at. Shu and I stole it when we were looking for missing cattle."

[thunderwarden]

One hundred percent academic reasons, Donnie. Don't hate. Cid smiles at the invitation, though. "Aye, lad, I'll ship out when I get the chance."

He can't keep the smirk from his lips at the mention of that airship, either, but he'll rein it in for now. "Let's find you that blade, lad, and then we can talk shop."

[purplexing]

Give him a chance and he'll talk your ear off aaaall about airships and armor, Cid.

Donnie nods eagerly as he puts away his purchase. "Right!" He had his own reining in to do or he'd never find what he was looking for. "I think down this way is where they have more weapon-oriented selections. Sometimes random cutlery- I bought a retractable fork once."

[thunderwarden]

Good. That's the sort of passion that drives him, Donnie. Bring it on.

"Now what sort of use did you find for a retractable fork?"

[purplexing]

"Inspiration!" Donnie chirps. "For my staff, that is. ...and it also helps to sneak a bite if you're stuck at a tavern during celebratory events."

[thunderwarden]

"Taverns charge extra for cutlery here? You have to bring your own?"

Admit it, Donnie. You just thought the extendable fork was cool.

[purplexing]

He's sixteen, of course the 'coolness' factor is a given!

"What? No! But you try elbowing your way between drunken Corsairs!" Donnie huffs.

[thunderwarden]

Fair enough. Cid's 44 and the coolness factor is still a thing.

He chuckles. "Sounds like my sort of place. Glad to hear your fork was useful though, lad."

[purplexing]

"Well, at least you can enjoy yourself then the next time the celebratory drinking parties happen," Donnie says, smirking a little. It's not a stretch imagining Cid in a bar, and he doubts the man would have any problems trying to get around crowds. He's been doing a fine job here already.

...now what were they looking for again...

[thunderwarden]

"I likely will, lad. This place doesn't seem like it has much cause for celebration. All the more reason to join in when it comes around."

He smiles.

"But let's go find you that kitchen knife."

[purplexing]

"Oh, they celebrate every chance they get, that's for sure."

Right! Knife!

Donnie nods eagerly then. He's sure that between the two of them, it'll be a successful venture.

[thunderwarden]

"Well, when you're up against odds like these, you gotta take the wins where you can, don't you?"

He sure did.

Cid couldn't say he'd ever gone shopping for cutlery before, but there were stranger things.