[IC] Ask the OC above you about the world-

Freebies

NP: Riley, along with his best bud lives in Burbank, a city located in Los Angelse County, California.

Salvador toyed with the map between his finger. This California place seemed so... Unreal. Void. That's one crowded area.
Riley had pointed out Burbank's on it. Thank the Saints for that. It made searching on it, so much easier. "You were born in Georgia and moved from Savannah?" Salvador turned the map, holding it upside down. He couldn't find Savannah on this state map. Not yet anyway. "How was it like? Moving from that place to Burbank?" Salvador peeked over the map and at Riley. His eyebrows raised. "Do you prefer Burbank? Or do you want to return to the place you were born? What's the biggest difference between, uh… California and," his brow knotted into a frown, another look at the map and a slow realization that he wouldn't find Savannah on this piece of paper." Georgia?"  

--

For NP you can ask Salvador about the Northen Pact (united set of lands) Kretschwick (the country he lives in), Drakenburg (The city he lives in), or Malloweinde (the city he was born). He knows about the mining in the area and the customs of a mining village. You can ask him about local fruits and food, coins or beliefs! He's a Half, you can ask him about that too! You can ask him anything tbh. 

--

The answer to the first question was a simple one. Genetics and malnutrition in childhood. The second, outspoken one, was harder. Salvador was toying around with a coin. He was trying his best to let the bronze piece to roll over his fingers, without dropping it, like he'd seen so many thieves do. It occupied him. Allowing him a moment to think about it.
"Mixed in Drakenburg," he finally replied. Salvador looked up from his game and eyed Valnier warily. "Hated in Malloweinde," he said. "Most of Kretschwick's old saint's we're Halven. Or so Xander told me. But that was before the Emperor," the coin was still darting around his fingers. It almost fell of but Salvador recovered. His gaze shifted back to the coin. "The Emperor forbid that we worship old saints 'nd Halven. Even though He is one Himself." The coin slipped from his fingers. But froze in the air, the last movement reversed and it was back in Salvador's hand in a blink of an eye. "There are three Halven in Drakenburg. Everyone knows of Xander. It's an open secret." He shot another glance at the other. Eyeing for a reaction. "They like him here. But," the coin tip-tapped further. "He, and me, wouldn't be welcome in Malloweinde. Superstitious folk they are." It pained him. Visibly. "That's why I had to leave." Now the coin finally dropped. It clang as it hit the ground. "They don't like what I've become." 

(ceo of basically the inquisition here)

Valnier looked down at Salvador, rather confused. How can someone the size of a Duardin be human? He’s seen it before but it had always thrown him. Unlike himself, he asked a rather forward question “What is the general populace’s opinions of half’s?” The question rushed from his mouth a bit to fast. But it was too late, and he could not make it seem like a slip of the tongue. “Especially in Malloweinde, considering that was where you were born. Yes?”

———-

Np: You can ask ANYTHING about Durtarv, his religion (Sigmarite), or about the realm of fire, Aqshy. He’s pretty knowledgable in all of these 

Ieli entered a tavern, followed by his son. The two spoke for a few minutes before seperating ways as the old red haired man approached the bar counter and spoke to the tavern owner "Greetings lad, I would like to loan a bedroom with two beds for the night! Also 2 spots for horses in your stables!" And as he was dealing with that, he noticed a man he had seen a few times sitting nearby "Oh, Valnier!" as he sat beside him.

For a little bit, as Ieli ordered some mead, the two of them eventually started chatting in a more casual manner, but as they did, their was a certain curiosity that peeked him. "You've mentioned about your home, Durtarv, before. Something about it being on the back of giant bugs. Honestly, I would lie if I said it didn't peek my curiosity." he said as he almost blindly eyes his mug, a silent hum as he went back to his question "You mentioned about it constantly being in danger. But also the bugs your people seem to get along with, a little bit like the animals we have but giant bugs. If you would allow me, I would like to know a little bit more about Durtarv and what goes on. If you came here to not think about that, though." he chuckled lightly "I would understand and not ask you more, I am merely a curious old man." He had so many questions "Guess I'm throwing a lot, though. How about we start with Durtarv?" he chuckled.

For you, irony, I was finishing another post and I just saw you claimed him. You are free to ask about his homeland, Alzeran or Yorvon, or about like, perhaps dragon lands. I havn't developped everything yet so some of the info is limited but some questions sometime help develop as well! If ever you ask a question I wouldnt know what to respond, I'll send you a dm

It was a moment of quiet, their steps moving unheard amid the ambience. A few questions existed in that time which passed along variously, most not seeming suitable for a sudden inquiry. It had been a relative walk and discussion until then; and they did not want to put too much on his mind given the lack of complication so far. That said, Lilium eventually found the need and reason to voice something, a patterns of words crossing through the prior-silence of the early morning air. "...Is it often you need to fight? ... It seems important to inquire, considering the fact itself." They did not need to address their usual concern for welfare; that was itself evident in most chance, but the question went further than chance; the fact that he knew how to defend himself indicative of possible hostility, whether frequent or not. Even if it was not a tradition he upheld, instead for another means, context itself was difficult to disregard -- more at this time, with thoughts having been voiced.

A small bench is occupied, their shape mostly encompassing the surface by earlier decision. Set at an angle, the corner from which Lilium -- halfway preoccupied but not quite as much -- had been prior sketching something is not too far from where Xeno was currently. Xe was to some degree picking at the vegetation scattered across a moderate space. It was not too destructive a pattern; there was a degree of awareness which began some time before setting down disrupt what evidently was a habit of sorts. Hesitation yet remained, their attention not wavering by far from the path Xe took across the garden. What was being said was mostly clear, and ignoring the discussion as it was lacked inclination on the part of themselves: and by extent it was not long before a response drifted outward, the words occurring in a manner that mostly answered what had been mentioned so far.

"Yes." A nod existed minutely, their posture not held without awkwardness by thought. "...I have. I would assume that most things have a sort of science to them, you are not wrong." It was a moment that passed after this, their attention again turning inward toward present concern. Not all of it was exactly 'present', an attempt made to skim over what they recalled from earlier durations. Another nod, more idle however. The mention of flat-earth belief and spreading fiction -- not that certainty could be that easily defined -- added more to the current direction taken mentally, but not enough that it distracted from ambient fact or the conversation. The aim to clean up the debris settled as a note amid other mental states; albeit not enough that it was more than a moment before Lilium continued verbally.

It was a tone that had a definiteness to it which followed. "...I might have changed. Not in the manner potentially assumed. ... As far as recalled, I may have appeared different 'physically', while not as experienced...? Years can be scarring and changing, as a general fact. ... Whether or not that has meant anything, I can in certainty say that there are differences. I used to evidently sound either masculine or feminine, albeit something that differed by necessity. ... Mentality evidently causes much in that regard, if not other sorts. ... Another example would have to be my robe... or habit. It used to be shorter. ... That is, I believe it was."

A long pause came after that, Lilium making an effort to find the means, and words to continue by. "...I assume that it was luck, I have not run into any complications that might mean significant detriment. As far as I understand... I am finite, as of many other things. Although through some means I remain static, I can be hurt. That itself means loss, as I understand further. ... Situations have occurred to cause evidency, and I would not chase after the possibility of harm. ... I might be subject to eventual cease, considering this, but I would not want to deliberate that by far."

They moved slightly, putting the book aside with relative care -- although not yet standing. "...As long as I do not lose 'too much', I would assume that I would remain as I am. ... I may count that as something beneficial. ... Thank you..." Despite the thought, if not seriousness to their words in passing, their tone did not change by far -- at least in terms of demeanor. As it was, severity remained detached as an element, not yet something to contend with. A note of positivism resulted regardless toward the end of the discussion itself, Lilium careful as their perspective shifted with corresponding motion; making a slight pass to pick up their writing in the meantime.

"...I could contribute samples from various specimens, if that would be fine?" With the season as it was, various strains had begun to flower -- not a complete advantage despite the vibrancy the attempt to seed brought.

(( apologies if this took a bit! ))

Xe's picking flowers. Xe doesn't find xerself outside very often, but nature seems to follow Lillium- or, maybe Lillium follows nature? It's... hard to tell which, and Lillium themself is enigmatic enough that such a distinction might not matter. In any case, there's... flowers to pick, greenery to admire. Xe doesn't do enough of that. For all the neon greens in xer life, xe has failed to really appreciate the full spectrum of greenery.

"You've... Been around for a while, haven't you?"
Xeno sounds a little bit winded, as xe remarks it. Two and a half decades have already been so much for xer to live through- it's hard to imagine it stretching on, into centuries. How much wonder, and discovery can you fit in 400 years? Does it leave you, eventually? How tired does one get, after living so long? These are not the questions xe asks. They feel too... personal, the kinds of things xe would be hesitant to answer, if asked. Xeno picks a flower, and watches as a half-wilted petal drifts off, downwards.
"I'm interested in this term, this, eh... Psychosomatoform dealio. Are... Are there others like you? I'm not sure I can- even describe how fascinating it all is. Much of what I study is about collective consciousness becoming material. Folklore, stories- They're a magic... no, a science all their own." Fingers squeak beneath xer gloves. Xe has enough mental fortitude to not turn xer fidgety hands on demolishing the plants- but xe's feeling the need to crinkle something between xer hands, as xe tries to put xer thoughts into words. 

"Admittedly, most of my attempts to manipulate belief on a mass scale have accomplished getting myself banned from flat earth forums. But- eh! That's- another thing entirely. Language is... well, it's a technology, but its one that's damned hard to manipulate. You need a lot of power to alter the current of human stories." By now, xe's cradling a bundle of flowers that's almost deserving of the title "bouquet", if there was any elegance to the scattered bits of plants xe's acquired. It's an uneven, messy thing. Xe hugs it like a teddy bear. "...Since you're an anthropormorphized being, have you... significantly changed, in the years since you've manifested? People's collective ideas of medicine have evolved so much. I've... I've met the unkind side of that. But, you... You seem to have such a strong sense of selfhood, to maintain a continuous being. You're... more than just a patchwork of folklore, of other people's interpretations. Has it been hard, to hold on to yourself? To... keep a sense of soul?"

There xe goes, asking the personal questions anyway. A laugh slips out- nervous, and airy.

"Sorry, I can't tell if I'm making sense. You don't have to answer any of that. These plants are so lovely."

NP: even though ive got a whole world developed in my heart i have failed to write down literally any of it in a way that's accessible on toyhouse. ough.
may go back and edit this with a sort of condensced cliff notes? for now, it's a sci-fantasy civilization of people living in a network of pocket dimensions, the largest of which is an imperialist empire named O'Neiro. eldritch gods exist and they're a huge problem. the people populating this network of pocket dimensions are, largely, former humans who have been irrevokably altered by the hands of eldritch beings. one may gleam tidbits of worldbuilding if you go clicking around my other characters, but NO pressure to do that, its disorganized as all hell
if you ask about something i dont have a pre-prepared answer for, no worries, ill improv my hat off. have at thee

((OBVIOUSLY xeno will forgive the robot dog are you KIDDINGG 
ough it turns out when a worldbuilding sits on your heart long enough, you cant help but write a whole dang novel as a reply. here ya go hardy ))

(You'll have to forgive Murdoch inclusion, he is a good boy I promise)

"There really is a lot I can't wrap my head around if I'm honest." The woman says, brow furrowing for a moment, from the distance she sits casually in the grass. Between them is Murdoch, a large dog-like construct, not unlike a St. Bernard in shape, with wire and stone hinges and flaps mimicking the droopy look of an old dog. His tail wags lazily as he watches Xeno, snoofing in xer direction. This was... awkward, but only in the distance that she has to keep from Xeno. It's not like she can help it really, she can feel the waves of energy that could inevitably ruin her body from here. Not that it frightened her. No, not at all. Just an obstacle to overcome and learn from. One that she is determined to resolve just so that the conversations between them aren't so frustrating. While gadgets and technology certainly made it easier, she'd rather be able to talk, learn, and enjoy being around the other scientist. 

While the urge to ask why a certain miasma of energetic hostility seems to surround xer is strong, Adven gets the feeling that perhaps such a question may not be appreciated. It could be a private matter, after all! The scientist may be excitable and eager to talk someone's ear off, but even she knew better than to pry too far. Instead, she turned her thoughts towards something more familiar. Murdoch, though not particularly interested in the scientists' conversation,  begins to inch towards Xeno, the sound of mechanical-like panting as he stares at xer eagerly.

"Like how'd you get slotted for a cool, fancy pocket dimension like that? Are there realtors for pocket dimensions? Trying to get you to take out a loan for a fold of interdimensional space?" While there's mirth to her voice, she is still asking, before a laugh bubbles out of her. "Is the mortgage a thing? Rhythms, if it's not too bad, I may have to consider refinancing my place to check one out."

Adven sighs, her eyes flicking upwards to focus on the sky overhead, a more contemplative look on her face. "It really is fascinating, isn't it. The ways different civilizations conduct their lifestyles. Though all incredibly similar... vastly different. I spend a lot of my time researching how people did things in the past, how it changes the world around them, and so on." Adven grimaces and looks to Xeno, "Not that I'm implying that I think your cities and pocket dimensions are relics of the past. I just like to call it proactive research! The present is worth learning about too!" A mischievous grin crosses her face and she flops down onto the grass. A glance between Xeno and Murdoch, who was now closer, pleading eyes boring into xer, a whine leaving that goofy-looking face. Begging for pets.

"Murdoch..." The woman reprimands half-heartedly, waving for the dog construct to recall, but he remains unmoving. Oh well.

"Ooo, that does remind me. We always struggled with space for laboratories and studies. Is that a problem in your pocket dimension? Or does it grow extra rooms as you need them? Or is that it's own complex process?"

@ NP: A lot of the world-building info is here, if you'd like to root around for stuff hehe. Everything else you're welcome to ask (particularly about magic, I just haven't written stuff down... for it, there really is lore I swear), if I don't know the answer it's a great chance for me to come up with the lore behind it hehe! So throw whatever you'd like my way, I'm ready eheheh!

Gentle bump, you can also ask about the world-building for any of these guys too if Adven doesn't strike your fancy^^

Roswell tapped the top of the radio. His smile grew. For a second, the old thief only looked at the small box, before he looked Adven over.
“So what’s swinin’?” he asked. Roswell’s fingers still rested on the radio, as if his fingers were glued to it. “Whaat music is populair at dis time? Is it de same type of music yer played on yer weddin’?” he asked. Before finally removing his hand from it. Roswell set down on a seat, crossing his legs directly.  “A good friend of mine swears dat de taste in music tells outsiders a lot about der personalities.”  Roswell’s gaze slowly drifted back to the radio. His fingers twitched. “So whats yer favorite song?” he asked. Clenching his greedy hands into fists. “Ah. Oi’m a fan of opera,” he confessed. Before shaking his head.

“Dat’s hardly an introduction, of course. Oi don’t think oi’ve make meself known to yer, yet.” Roswell shook his head again. “Even though oi know a lot about yer,” Roswell smiled at her. Showing a bit of teeth as he did so. He held out his hand towards her. “Me name is Wolter van Witte. Pleasant meetin’ yer. Oi’m bank clerk.” he adjusted his necktie. A fancy one, he’d picked specifically for the matter.
“Oi’m an investor. Just a humble man dat moves money between hands,” he said. Mostly to his own hand. The smile grew a bit. “Oi’ve come from a more music related background,” he lied. “ ‘enche me questions. But oi’m looking to invest in a… Different field. ‘Istory to be exact,” he said. “Or well. De knowledge to study it. Ah, oi’m working for a client,” Roswell continued. “Der are some relics he wants to be checked out…” Wolter van Witte's smile grew wolfish.
“Of the record. If that’s not a problem.” 

--

Clay pipe. Old tobacco. Roswell’s fingers danced around the edges of his pipe, the clay had colored yellow over time. He leaned his shoulder against the brick walls of the building, his eye fixated with his pipe.
How long was it gonna last? His thumb pressed against the small cracks in the clay. When did he need to buy a new one? Hopefully not anytime soon. He was so occupied with his thoughts that he didn’t even notice Kell. Or the tab on his shoulder, for that fact. It was the ‘hey’ that got Roswell’s attention. His eyebrows raised and he looked aside. His eye quickly scanned Kell, the fur and their mask. He paused.
“A bit overdressed for de weather don’t yer think,” he said. Smiling and showing his teeth.
“Its barely summer and yer dressed loike yer ‘are goin’ to explore the Northen Kaap,” he joked. Before shaking his head. “Figured yer were lost. Yer not from aroun’ ‘ere roi?” his gaze lingered on them for a wee second too long. Roswell then straightened his back, removed his shoulder from the wall, and placed his pipe between his lips. He pointed.
“De upper sign is Starq. De second Kretsch. Dey are streetnames. Yer currently in the Buik of Drakenburg,” he told them. “The ol’ town. Just outside de square,” he informed. “Ever ‘eard of Kretschwick pallie-o? Cause yer roi in de most northern place of it.” 

Kell hadn't meant to end up here. Traveling through a pocket dimension was not without risk; one wrong turn and they could end up somewhere entirely new and utterly foreign to them. It had happened before and Drakenburg, like many other accidental destinations, was just as confusing as the rest. It wasn't a city they recognized; the hope that they were still on a planet back in their dimension was quickly dwindling the longer they explored. They had already been wandering for quite some time before they found Roswell, and by the time they found him, they had already landed themself within the underworld of Drakenburg. He was a strange character, one that seemed to stick out even within his (assumed) home, and the sight of him left Kell skeptical. Still, with no one else to help, they knew they had no other choice. 

They approached him slowly, adjusting their pilot mask to hide their face. Back home, no one would've noticed them, but here... well, it made them look like an oddity. They were obviously from... ah, they'd just say they're from out of town if he asked. Technically, it was right! 

Before Kell bothered him, they mustered up some confidence and steeled their nerves. Just ask for directions, they thought, and you can leave... and figure out where the hell to go next. With a final deep breath, they tapped on Roswell's shoulder. "Hey," they started, before immediately losing all that confidence and correcting themself as soon as Roswell turned to them. "Excuse me. I'm lost." 

They pulled their hand back underneath their cloak and let the fabric wrap back around them. The fur trim curled at the side of their mask. This outfit was too warm for Drakenburg; then again, they were more accustomed to freezing temperatures. "I can't read any of the signs here," they continued. "I don't know what they say, I've never seen that language before. Where am I?"

Hopefully not far from home... but that was wishful thinking. 

hi i wrote a bit much so im putting it under a spoilerbox. heres a long ass response where kell just thinks this guy is nuts. i think they should duke it out