Personal Details: Age - 21, Pronouns - She/Her, Religion - Jewish
Hard
Keen
Calm
Daring
+2
0
-2
+3
Core Move
Stranger In A Strange Land: You have an Alienation track that runs from 0 to 10, and starts with 5 Alienation. When any of the following occur, mark 1 Alienation.
You have a close encounter with the supernatural and inhuman.
Someone Broke Trust with you.
You wounded or killed a person.
You see something that reminds you of home.
During introspection, remove 1 Alienation for each of the following which is true. If this results in you reaching 0 Alienation, you are In Tune. Gain 2XP.
You used Discover Beauty.
You have a Confidant.
You Trust at least two other characters.
Someone Got Real with you.
When somebody Gets Real with you, on a 16+, remove 2 Alienation in addition to other effects. On an 11-15, remove 1 Alienation in addition to other effects.
At 4 or Less Alienation, it costs no Stress to Restore Trust. At 5+ Alienation, you are at -1 to all social moves, but +1 to Brawl, Personal Attack, and Dogfight! +Keen. If you are at 10 Alienation, you are Weirded Out. You cannot initiate any social moves until you are no longer Weirded Out. Do not remove Alienation if someone Gets Real with you unless they choose the result "Remove Weirded Out."
Current Alienation: ⏹⏹⏹⏹⏹⏹☐☐☐☐
Personal Moves
Darmok:When you talk with someone else who has this move, you can do so in a code that cannot be cracked by mundane means. In addition, when you discuss things over food and drink, you can Get Real with +Keen instead of +Calm. Fizzbin:When you spin a wild tale about something from home,roll +Daring. On an 11-15, choose one. On a 16+, choose two.
Everyone is focused on you.
You are not caught up in the aftermath.
Gain something small and useful.
So That's What That Is: Each Routine, hold 3. When you describe how something you learned at home would be relevant to the current situation, spend a hold and take advantage forward. On a fault, you find out some way in which you were very wrong.
What are you looking at this for? Just because I've played an unreasonable amount of IL2 doesn't mean I'd know what to do if someone actually shot at me. - Alice
Intimacy Move
Wait, what do you mean "harem route still under development"? There's a harem route? Is this going to be one of those Isekais? - Alice
Familiar Vices
Music
Casual Sex
Writing
Hey, I've got stuff other than partying I do! - Alice
[X] Start with altitude advantage
[X] Spot the enemy and act while they are unaware
It's awfully hard to catch a plane that's already fast in a straight line when it decides it'd like to dive away from you before you have a chance to get turned towards it.
A who the what now? "It's a two-seater with a flat nose for the cooling intake and an off-center prop. That's a Bristol F.2."
"You're describing a Zerstörer. Why would…?" Madelyn trailed off as she considered the question. "Perhaps someone from this world flying one ended up in yours?"
"Doubt it. The Brisfit's a century-old design back home." And that wasn't the only WWI-era plane I'd seen here. "Besides, that doesn't explain the friggin' Camel I saw sitting around the airfield yesterday."
"What's a ca–" Something seemed to occur to Madelyn before she could finish her thought. "Where's the other one?"
"What?"
"Where's the other one?" she repeated. "The ship has two sets of hooks; there should be another plane."
"Oh." My chest suddenly felt very tight. I began to scan the sky, Madelyn joining in, grabbing my shoulder to support herself.
A minute or two later, the sky was still as clear as before. No planes were diving out of the sun in a hail of bullets. And yet, the gnawing feeling in my stomach remained. After a moment's thought, I nudged the stick right, rolling the plane just enough to check below the Cub.
Good call. The second plane was cresting a lazy turn, silhouetted against a low cloud. I didn't recognize this one; it was a one-seater with four long, narrow tandem wings, all done up in red and black like the world's edgiest dragonfly.
Or an anarcho-communist dragonfly, I guess. Somehow, I doubted this pilot had chosen their color scheme out of appreciation for direct action and mutual aid.
Madelyn shifted nervously behind me. "Do you see it?"
"Yeah, I think so. Dragonfly-looking thing, starboard and a bit behind us. Maybe six-fifty feet– sorry," I hastily corrected myself. "Two-hundred-ish meters below. Don't think they've noticed us yet."
The grip on my shoulder relaxed. "Okay. Okay. We aren't in trouble yet."
"Hey, I'm not about to fall victim to two-dimensional thinking."
That got a nice laugh, if a shaky one. "You're sure you can outrun them?"
"Of course I'm sure. You still buckled in?"
As Mads settled back in her seat, I opened the throttle. The prop cut through the air, engine shaking the airframe as the airship slipped over and past us. Below, the dragonfly plane suddenly turned and began to climb. But it was too little, too late; after barely any time at all, the pilot waggled their wings and turned back towards their airship.
Once the balloon had receded into the distance, I eased back on the throttle. The engine note dropped to a low rumble, and I shifted around and gave Mads a reassuring smile. "See? Told you it'd be fine."
Our calm is...-2? So we're still at -1? Well, here goes nothing...
EDIT: That's a 12! Still not what we're looking for, but better than the alternative.
EDIT^2: Given how poor our calm is, I think we should seriously consider getting a navigator - or maybe giving Madelyn training as a Navigator (and/or Observer?)
Also, Wild Guessing but: I'm curious as to if Alice or Madelyn pushes for us to learn Combat Magic first (since our plane has no guns and we've had as least 1 close call we hostiles)
It'll be Madelyn for that; Alice has already noted some concerns about A) if magic really is gender locked as Madelyn seemed to imply and B) if she'll 'count' as a woman as far as magic is concerned. So, unfortunately but understandibly, she's nervous.
On the other hand, drama is fun!
You know, sometimes you see a character you love and you just want to wrinkle them up like a ball of paper, or scotch tape them to the ceiling fan, because you love putting them in Situations and seeing them react to things.
The rest of the flight was far less eventful. As expected, Lake Mooseharassment was just up ahead, and the mountain pass was soon after. They weren't as grand as the range I'd seen yesterday, but there were snowcaps. Snowcaps!
We made good time through the pass and soon emerged into a valley. Ahead was Locarno, just as Leni had described.
Well, okay. Calling it a "city" was a stretch. It was more of a mid-sized town surrounding a complex of large buildings. I'd passed over dozens of college towns just like it when I was learning to fly.
Madelyn's voice shook me from my musings. "Hey, I think I see something?"
"Where?" I craned my neck to look. "Wait, I got it."
A pair of planes, nine o'clock high and descending toward us. The angle was wrong for a dive, though. It looked like they'd been behind us and were trying to get our attention.
Well, no sense in looking suspicious. As the pair approached, I pulled back on the throttle, waggling my wings a bit. One hung back as the other returned the waggle, now close enough I could make out…
"For fuck's sake," I muttered to myself.
"Oh, I think I know that one!" Madelyn piped up, "That's a Kreuzer Spinne, right?"
"... I'm sure it is." I knew it as a Fokker 'you know, like the Red Baron' DR.I. Not that it mattered here.
At least this one wasn't red; it was painted ocean blue with silver-white detailing. A pair of dark green pennants streamed from the upper wing, and the side was stenciled with a big number thirteen.
Looked a bit like they'd stuffed a triplane in a Lions jersey, to be honest. Uncle Ray would get a kick out of that.
Even hanging back, the Blue Baron's companion was close enough by now to tell they shared the sports jersey paint scheme. Said companion was also a triplane… just, y'know, with a fucking pusher prop and enough wing stagger to use them as stairs. Not to mention a fully-glazed cockpit, because I guess visibility is for schmucks, and…
Wait, that wasn't a gun. That was a camera. They'd mounted a movie camera on the hull what the fuck?
As I questioned the sanity of Himmelgard's aircraft designers, the more familiar plane slotted in alongside us. The pilot was (probably a dude) under his flying leathers, with a scruff of dirty-blond hair sticking out from under a Snoopy cap, goggles, and technicolor scarf. He waved to catch my attention, and then…
Uh.
Began to mime a groundhog with his spare arm?
I swear, that's what it looked like. He seemed to be expecting some kind of response as well, because he repeated the gesture after a long pause.
"Why aren't you signing back?"
"What?" I almost turned to face Mads before thinking better of it. No splitting my attention three ways. "Sign language? Is that what they're doing?"
"Does your world not have pilot sign?" Madelyn asked back, clearly confused. "But how do you talk to other planes?"
"Did you think this radio was just for–" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the pilot throw his arms up in the universal - or multi-universal - gesture for 'are you fucking kidding me.' "Okay, do you have any idea what they're saying?"
"Er… I only know the basics, but…" Madelyn shifted behind me, tapping on the window as she signed to the other plane. After a long moment, the pilot dutifully repeated his aerobics routine. "I think he wants to know what we're doing?"
"Can you tell him we're bringing cargo in?"
"I'll do my best." More tapping and shifting from the passenger seat received some very aggressive pointing between our planes in return, followed by a karate chop. "He… either wants to escort us down or cover us on an attack run."
"Oh, is that all?" I laughed and flashed a thumbs-up as I began to ease back the throttle. The other pilot returned the gesture, matching our speed as we descended toward an increasingly-visible runway. "Seriously, thanks for clearing that up. Hate to get shot down because I skipped charades class."
Even over the rush of air and the engine, I could hear Madelyn smile back.
---
Locarno was hardly JFK International, but it was busier than Splugen. The airfield bustled with activity, personnel, and enough vintage planes to fill a museum. A worrying number were variations on that weird pusher model, but most I recognized. A couple of Eindeckers, a Nieuport 11, and… an unfortunate number (read: more than none) of Blackburns, because even hopping universes apparently couldn't save me from Blackburn's idiocy.
If Madelyn and I weren't busy manhandling an overstuffed box of wire, I'd be running around, taking pictures, and generally embarrassing myself. Turns out my witchy friend couldn't Leviosa the stupid thing after all; wrong element or something like that. Thankfully, she hadn't picked Strength as her dump stat in character creation. The two of us together had managed to maneuver the crate out of the Cub, even as I found myself silently begging the Almighty for another pair of hands.
"Y'all need some help with that?"
Wasn't expecting him to listen, though. The Blue Baron's pilot looked much lankier out of the cockpit, still wearing his Snoopy cap and Tom Baker-ass scarf as he approached. With the long, dirty-blond hair and fuzzy goatee, he looked like a surfer who'd gotten lost at a sci-fi convention.
"Could use another pair of hands, sure!" I said, double-checking my facemask was in place. I don't think I was liable to become patient zero for Himmelgard's Covid epidemic, but better safe than sorry.
Besides, facemasks are excellent at telling dysphoria to go fuck itself.
"Oh, that'd be–" Madelyn began before blanching. "I-I mean, we're fine! Just fine! We can move this ourselves!"
I blinked at the sudden swerve. "Okay, but we could move it a lot faster with some help."
"Well, er…" There was nervousness and confusion in Mads' voice as the pilot sidled up beside us. "I might start unpacking our own luggage, then?"
"Cool with me. Just make sure not to break anything."
The witch gave me a nod as the pilot sidled in beside her, then scampered away like she'd been stung. I nearly dropped the crate, but the pilot managed to grab hold before someone had their feet turned into pancakes. Once we'd both managed to adjust our grips, I could already feel the difference; dude was just as fit as he looked.
What? Just because I'm a lesbian doesn't mean I'm blind. You could crack walnuts with that chin.
As we began to move, the pilot introduced himself. "Name's Dieter. You got anything fun in the box?"
"Alice," I responded. "And that depends. Are thirty-odd kilos of wire recordings 'fun' in your book?"
Dieter grinned as we maneuvered around a barrel, not missing a step.
"So that's why Leni was running late. Did Herr Pünktlich decide he had better things to do?" he replied in a lazy, amused tone. I shook my head.
"He had a run-in last week; those Goth guys you're all worked up about."
I stumbled as Dieter nearly dropped the crate.
"Sigvird. She's not hurt, right? Käte's gonna be pissed if that dummkopf–"
"Hey, Leni's fine. She didn't even seem shaken up when we talked." My mental estimation of Dieter had gone up a few notches.
"Plane got shot up, though?" He sighed at my nod, then resecured his grip. "Shit. Bastards must've recognized his plane."
Wait a sec. Back in Splugen, in the hangar... I jerked my head at one of the Crimson Skies escapees we'd just passed. "Leni wouldn't happen to fly one of those, would she?"
The judgment in my tone didn't go unnoticed. "Hey, don't knock 'em! The Professor does good work."
"Sure, Jan." I replied, "Just sayin'; if you don't want people to recognize you, maybe don't fly around in some mad engineer's bass-ackwards triplane."
The blond scoffed. "Like you've got room to talk with that fancy custom model of yours."
"What, the Cub?" I scoffed. "Nah, mine's a rental. Piper made ten, twenty thousand of 'em?"
That got a skeptical stare in response.
Before Dieter could press further, though, we were interrupted by a sound like a diesel engine doing a tap dance. Approaching us on a dozen stamping legs was a machine that resembled a pillbug with the head of a forklift. Its curved body sloped in the middle, seating an operator who looked like she'd fall out if she went over the slightest bump. To complete the absurd picture, it carried a pallet impaled on its forks and had 'HUNDGABELSTAPLER' stenciled on its side in bright yellow capital letters.
Before I could object, my fellow box-carrier had maneuvered us in front of the masts, dropping the crate onto the pallet. Cargo accepted, the whatever-it-was trundled off like the world's happiest beetle as I turned and gave Dieter a look.
"Yeah, okay, but that thing's Gil Holzfaller's thesis project," he explained, sheepishly pulling at his scarf. "Not the same thing at all."
"Uh-huh." Part of me wanted to ask what the safety training videos for that thing looked like, but I decided to be nice instead. "So, I've got this glorified IOU I'm supposed to take to the bursar's office. You wouldn't know where that is, would you?"
---
Everywhere we passed, the U of L looked old. The faded brownstone walls had smooth, rounded corners and edges from centuries of erosion, with regular, noticeable patches where bricks and mortar had been replaced. Gutters, wiring, and plumping ran up the outside of the walls and through visibly retrofitted holes. I could make out several styles of roof, from ancient and worn-looking slate contrasted to the bright green of unfinished, rusting copper. In its totality, the University resembled the sprawling glass-and-concrete office parks I knew back home about as much as Berlin, Wisconsin resembled Berlin, Germany.
The students, though? Those were familiar. Sure, they were wearing blazers and blouses and all that preppy, formal shit, but they were still milling around, eating lunch, hanging out, pretending to study, that sort of thing. The only real difference was that the only smartphone to be found was the one currently in my pocket.
Heck, Madelyn was getting more weird looks than I was. It took me a bit to put my finger on why, but once I did, it was obvious: the clothes. Sure, everyone here dressed old-fashioned, but there's a difference between the students' 'extra in a wizard school movie' old-fashioned and Mads' 'tradwife cosplay photoshoot' old-fashioned. The witch in question didn't seem to be enjoying all the looks, even if they weren't exactly malicious. More like…
Fuck, it was, wasn't it? This was the same "what's with the stupid hat" staring I got when I first started going to public school, because apparently the population of Akron, Michigan had never seen an Orthodox Jew in the wild before.
Note to self: find someplace where Mads and I can get her a new look so she won't feel compelled to shrink into my shadow whenever she's out in public.
At least Dieter's directions didn't take long to follow: right at the campanile, past the small theater and the refectory, left at the goat statue, and stop when you reach the fountain. The building at the end of this path ("Klein Hall," from what I was told) was squat and square, with thin, vertical windows and vaguely Middle Eastern-y decorated arches. Looked like a cross between a synagogue and… I dunno, a converted armory, maybe?
Okay, to be fair, every building here looked like a synagogue.
The hallways were narrower than I was used to, and the fading paint on the masonry screamed 'Every wall is load-bearing.' After a quick check at the desk, we worked our way through winding corridors and at least two flights of stairs to reach an imposing-looking door. The frosted glass window's label was rendered doubly unreadable by being a long compound word in aggressive fraktur font, though the decorative floral patterns were a nice touch.
An exiting professor-type held the door for us as we entered a dimly lit mess of an office. Shelves filled with books, file boxes, and paper lined the walls; if there was a system to the chaos, it had emerged naturally over time and would require decades of study to unravel. A large desk filled most of the remaining space, behind which sat an older woman - presumably the bursar - tapping away at a typewriter.
The bursar glanced up from her work as we entered, looking us up and down with a scowl. "Enrollment is two floors up."
"Sorry, but I work for a living," I joked, channeling my best 'guy who won't shut up about trade schools' impression. "We're here to get paid."
"Ah. Pilots." The typewriter let out a 'ding' as she reached the end of the page. "Well, hurry up then. I haven't got all day."
The lady took the invoice with a critical eye, but failed to find anything suspicious. Grabbing a pen from a drawer, she jotted down a signature before giving us a frown from behind her wire-rimmed glasses. "Stay here for a moment."
The bursar pushed her chair back, dragging it across the wooden floor with a screech. Producing a set of keys, she made her way to a too-small door set into the back wall, unlocked it, and ducked inside. After what felt like at least three or four moments of shuffling noises, she returned from the closet with a dark leather bag, the contents of which she unceremoniously dumped on the desk.
"There you go: twelve thaler, just as agreed. Do you have other business here, or can I get back to work?"
"... Yuh huh." I murmured as I stared at the pile of solid gold coins on the table. They were each the size of a table coaster, spoked, with raised lettering around the edge and a colorful gem set in the middle. Experimentally, I picked one up; it felt weighty in my hand, like a… well, a solid gold table coaster.
Next to me, Madelyn whispered to herself, "That's more money than I've ever seen in my life."
Already back to typing, the bursar let out a scoff. "Some pilots you are. Aren't you planning to blow it all on food, beer, and cheap dates before sunrise?"
Mads let out a sputtering noise. "I'm not–! She's the pilot, I'm just…"
My stomach chose that moment to remind me I'd skipped breakfast.
"Hey, Mads, not to interrupt–" What was presumably her panic at the notion that anyone anywhere has sex, "–but you wanna get some food?"
Madelyn froze, then turned to look at me with a look halfway between relief and disbelief.
"What?" I asked, returning her look. "Was I supposed to steal Leni's bacon scraps?"
"No, no, it's…" She trailed off, refusing to make eye contact. "Food would be good, yes."
"Great!" I turned back to the bursar. "You guys have a cafeteria here, right?"
What do these two idiots indulge in, and how much?
[ ] Write-In
As per last time, we will be accepting snippet votes for the next update.
Hakazin: This update was (not) brought to you by me running out of ADHD medication for two months. Thankfully, I've got them in my system again!
Samdamandias: Yes, we know copper doesn't actually rust. Alice doesn't. Also on a completely unrelated note, moving dwelling places is a right pain.
***
So yeah, let's see if we can't make our way into the unversity library to research, write, and hang out (after eating, obviously), and then talk to someone. Someone absolutely has shrooms, this is a University, the odds are roughly 100%.
[X] Plan: University Days
-[X] When going to get something to eat in the cafeteria, inquire about the library... and about places to get Acid, Shrooms, or DMT. You know, something like that, as well as places to listen to music.
-[X] Try to use the library, if need be sneaking around if it's one of those, "You must be enrolled" deals... though it's not like you're going to check things out. Maddy can look stuff up, you can look around, maybe write a diary entry if you're bored, etc, etc.
-[X] Seek out The Drugs, the Musics, and the Drinks.
-[X] If you find the drinks, don't drink much (buzz at most), you need to watch out for Maddy, in case she has a bad trip or needs the backup.
[X] Plan: Normal Uses Of A Library
-[X] Indulge Familiar Vice - Research: Try to use the library, if need be sneaking around if it's one of those, "You must be enrolled" deals... though it's not like you're going to check things out. Maddy can look stuff up, you can look around, maybe write a diary entry if you're bored, etc, etc.
-[X] Indulge Familiar Vice - Casual Sex: Hey, that librarian is cute... and because it's not three seconds before an exam the library is basically empty...
-[X] Indulge Unfamiliar Vice - Swordfighting: You're at a German university, what else are you supposed to do for fun?
Once they've gotten some food, they ought to head for the library for a mix of research and writing; then some booze, then some halucinogens. At some point in there, they need to have a private, mature conversation where Alice tries to work out how to comfort Madelyn because she's finding all this very unpleasant.
Also hopefully Alice can find someone who can introduce her to the wild world of Himmilgard HRT and other presentation issues; like possibly get Madelyn a new look.
Once they've gotten some food, they ought to head for the library for a mix of research and writing; then some booze, then some halucinogens. At some point in there, they need to have a private, mature conversation where Alice tries to work out how to comfort Madelyn because she's finding all this very unpleasant.
I absolutely love the dynamic of the two person party which between them has one person with an understanding of human societies and one person with an understanding of Himmilgard.
