[X] A small pool of water, a group of those things that piloted your floatplane seem to be arguing at the edge of the water.
I am Attacking, Follow Me (A Kantai Collection Quest)
- Thread starter Sturmi
- Start date
In_lurk_shadow
[ ]
- Location
- here and there
[X] A small pool of water, a group of those things that piloted your floatplane seem to be arguing at the edge of the water.
- Location
- california
[X] A small pool of water, a group of those things that piloted your floatplane seem to be arguing at the edge of the water.
Darik29
Verified Delicious
My bad. I just saw it and didn't check the date.
7. Shores of an Azure Sea
- Location
- USA
[X] A small pool of water, a group of those things that piloted your floatplane seem to be arguing at the edge of the water.
They notice you. Briefly, they look at each other and make some unintelligible hand gestures before returning fire with their own stares.
You lock eyes.
...
This continues for a fairly significant amount of time.
Eventually, you chance a movement. You wince slightly. The pain is not all-encompassing and overwhelming as you remember it, instead, it is now merely an unpleasant hum of rawness and general redness gnawing at you. Through the water you can see massive red welts where your injuries were.
Somewhat unnervingly, when you look back up, they are all gone. You look up and over the strange tub to the side. Nothing.
As it processes within your mind, you begin to think that the correct course of action may in fact be to go back to sleep in the comforting embrace of the warm waters, before thinking better of it.
To either side of you is a large row of tubs, all encased in aesthetically pleasing turquoise tiling, the same as yours. On the opposite wall is a series of steel benches, somewhat haphazardly bolted to the floor.
On the bench opposite to your pool of water sits a pair of towels.
Doubt is pushed to the back of your mind as you rise. The world around you is strange and unfamiliar. You are a stranger at an open door. It is time to enter.
You stumble for a moment under the unfamiliar gait of your legs. The leg is unquestionably in a near perfect shape, and yet it simply feels off. The timing of movement is unoptimized and strange, not quite synchronized with the rest of your body, always leading or trailing by just a few dozen or so milliseconds.
The furious red sheen of the skin there is simply a remind of why that is.
There is nothing to be done about it for now.
You step onto solid ground for the first time. It is remarkably anticlimactic, in all honesty not feeling too far gone from walking on the open sea. If anything it feels limiting. It did not have the amorphous and fluid motions of the oceans, instead feeling oddly confining with its solidity and certain footing.
An odd and clumsy stumble walk brings you to the bench as you struggle not to slip and fall. As you move to pick up the towel, you notice a distinct lack of pruning on your hands. The thought is filed away to the back of your mind as you pick up the surprisingly soft and comfy towel and wrap it about your chest. You take the other towel and tuck it under your arm, as you being to walk towards the door that is presumably the exit to this strange facility.
As you finally hovel up to the door, you take note of the strange shape and luster of the metal that makes up the bar of the presumably push door.
You lean a bit of weight onto it, and slide through to find a room of lockers. Benches, this time of a much more homely wood dominate the center of the room. You begin to read some of the nameplates as you move to yet another door.
Stuart
Hobart
Voyager
You perk up at those names, familiar in the echoes of your memory. You don't know why, but seeing those names simply feels... right. You dare to smile as you push open the next door.
Here is only a simple hallway.
You allow your mind to wander as you walk down the halls, towards rays of light you can only presume to be the sun.
Just as you are about to round the corner into what you assume to be the entrance of the building, you hear something. A sort of rhythmic patter. It crescendos, even as you struggle to find the source of the veritable onslaught of clicks and clacks.
In the space of approximately three seconds, a fairly stunning sequence of events occurs.
First, a girl in her midteens grinds to a halt immediately outside of the doors of the complex.
She then proceeds to leap through the entrance with all due haste, before barely catching herself as her face rapidly accelerated towards the floor, as you stared with a mix of raw shock and dumbfounded awe.
Before you can really proceed to muster a response, she then tackles you to the ground, as she squeezes your body tightly in her arms, yelling in a familiar voice about halfway between blind rage and crying, "YOU ARE THE MOST FUCKING STUPID, WORST, BRAVE, DUMBASS I EVER, ARGHHHH-". She peers into you, two fiery suns of rage and anger seemingly deliberating on a thousand ways to tear you apart, but then you can see that begin to dissipate. Deeper within those eyes, you can see melancholic tones, of regret and frustration. She then gives up any facade of anger and simply begins to...disassemble in front of you, as she shifts between halfhearted punches, and sobbing. You freeze up for a moment. This is not what you expected. No. Not what you expected at all. You don't know what to do.
As she lays on you, venting everything that she feels, you hope you understand her pain. You know full well that what you did was suicidal. In those few minutes, you had walked up to death, and goaded it to take you. You should have died there. As much as you would want to prove it wasn't true, luck played perhaps the greatest role in your survival. She does not cry for your miraculous survival. No, she cries for all the ways you may have died. The maroon network of lace that crisscrosses your body pays evidence to such thoughts.
You lay there and take it, all of her cusses, her woes, and grievances, a pillar of sanity for her to hold on to. It does not register when you help her stand up and begin to move. It's barely noticed when a group of navy personnel enters and begins to shepherd you somewhere else. Nor do you care for the stares of random passersby as you give your shoulder away.
You begin to notice that you enter yet another building, this one more homely, a barracks of some sort. You slowly lead the morass of emotions up the stairs. A lookalike awaits you at the top, her face creased with concern and worry. She opens her mouth, mouthing words that you cannot hear. She takes both you into tow, and leads you further down the hall. At this point you realize that the others have left. It is only you three.
At some point she decides to stop, turning to the right and opening the door. She says something else to you that again passes through your mind, marked as unimportant for whatever reason. She tries to shoulder your charge and bring her away. You resist for a brief moment, not wanting to leave her like this. She gives you a knowing nod, and an expression of resignation far beyond her years. You slowly transfer her weight over to her new guardian. She nods once more and begins to walk down the hall once again.
You continue to watch, even as they reach their own room, and enter. Eventually you realize that it is over. You turn to the room and walk in.
It is well furnished for what you assumed to be a barracks, a large bed sitting on either side, a drawer in the middle, a fancy lamp sitting on top of it. A mirror sits in the left corner.
As you pass it however, something very important does finally register to you within your mind, snapping you out of your strange stupor. You just walked across a naval base wearing nothing but a towel.
A brief panic ensues.
You have begun to realize that you tune information in and out at very strange intervals. You are reasonably sure that clothes that sit on your bed right now are yours, although you are somewhat dumbfounded as to their survival after your generally unenjoyable near death experience.
On the bed lays:
[] A Schoolgirl Outfit, in the style of your very own Koninklijke Marine.
[] A semi-traditional outfit, in the style of your very own native Schiedam.
[] A more traditionally military uniform, with minor adjustments towards your styling.
[] Write in
In the mirror lies a girl:
Height:
[] (Height in centimeters)
Eyes(Heterochromia is fine if you want):
[] (Eye color)
Hair:
[] Short
[] Intermediate
[] Long
[] Very long
Hair Style:
[] Write in
Hair Color:
[] Write in
Figure:
[] Undeveloped
[] Developing
[] Developed
Bust:
[] Flat
[] Modest
[] Average
After you finish the business of actually wearing clothes in a semi public setting, you:
[] Go outside and try to find answers. You still don't really know anything about where you are.
[] Explore the dorms. More people probably live here than you three. Go out and try to meet them.
[] Stay put, and try to put together the information you've already gathered.
AHHHHHHHHHHHH. I'm sorry the update is so late. I ended up drowning in school work for a bit. Also ended up tearing the worldbuilding and characters apart two or three times and sewed them back together. I also learned things about clothes that I never wanted to. For example, I got reminded that purple dye was originally harvested from snails.
I'll expand on the outfits more if there's interest, but I kinda want to just get this out of the door after 2 weeks ;_;
For the votes please do stuff in a plan format for appearance, or my mind will break in half trying to tally everything.(yes i hate myself for putting the bust and figure vote in, but I can't keep writing if I don't even really know what the MC looks like)
They notice you. Briefly, they look at each other and make some unintelligible hand gestures before returning fire with their own stares.
You lock eyes.
...
This continues for a fairly significant amount of time.
Eventually, you chance a movement. You wince slightly. The pain is not all-encompassing and overwhelming as you remember it, instead, it is now merely an unpleasant hum of rawness and general redness gnawing at you. Through the water you can see massive red welts where your injuries were.
Somewhat unnervingly, when you look back up, they are all gone. You look up and over the strange tub to the side. Nothing.
As it processes within your mind, you begin to think that the correct course of action may in fact be to go back to sleep in the comforting embrace of the warm waters, before thinking better of it.
To either side of you is a large row of tubs, all encased in aesthetically pleasing turquoise tiling, the same as yours. On the opposite wall is a series of steel benches, somewhat haphazardly bolted to the floor.
On the bench opposite to your pool of water sits a pair of towels.
Doubt is pushed to the back of your mind as you rise. The world around you is strange and unfamiliar. You are a stranger at an open door. It is time to enter.
You stumble for a moment under the unfamiliar gait of your legs. The leg is unquestionably in a near perfect shape, and yet it simply feels off. The timing of movement is unoptimized and strange, not quite synchronized with the rest of your body, always leading or trailing by just a few dozen or so milliseconds.
The furious red sheen of the skin there is simply a remind of why that is.
There is nothing to be done about it for now.
You step onto solid ground for the first time. It is remarkably anticlimactic, in all honesty not feeling too far gone from walking on the open sea. If anything it feels limiting. It did not have the amorphous and fluid motions of the oceans, instead feeling oddly confining with its solidity and certain footing.
An odd and clumsy stumble walk brings you to the bench as you struggle not to slip and fall. As you move to pick up the towel, you notice a distinct lack of pruning on your hands. The thought is filed away to the back of your mind as you pick up the surprisingly soft and comfy towel and wrap it about your chest. You take the other towel and tuck it under your arm, as you being to walk towards the door that is presumably the exit to this strange facility.
As you finally hovel up to the door, you take note of the strange shape and luster of the metal that makes up the bar of the presumably push door.
You lean a bit of weight onto it, and slide through to find a room of lockers. Benches, this time of a much more homely wood dominate the center of the room. You begin to read some of the nameplates as you move to yet another door.
Stuart
Hobart
Voyager
You perk up at those names, familiar in the echoes of your memory. You don't know why, but seeing those names simply feels... right. You dare to smile as you push open the next door.
Here is only a simple hallway.
You allow your mind to wander as you walk down the halls, towards rays of light you can only presume to be the sun.
Just as you are about to round the corner into what you assume to be the entrance of the building, you hear something. A sort of rhythmic patter. It crescendos, even as you struggle to find the source of the veritable onslaught of clicks and clacks.
In the space of approximately three seconds, a fairly stunning sequence of events occurs.
First, a girl in her midteens grinds to a halt immediately outside of the doors of the complex.
She then proceeds to leap through the entrance with all due haste, before barely catching herself as her face rapidly accelerated towards the floor, as you stared with a mix of raw shock and dumbfounded awe.
Before you can really proceed to muster a response, she then tackles you to the ground, as she squeezes your body tightly in her arms, yelling in a familiar voice about halfway between blind rage and crying, "YOU ARE THE MOST FUCKING STUPID, WORST, BRAVE, DUMBASS I EVER, ARGHHHH-". She peers into you, two fiery suns of rage and anger seemingly deliberating on a thousand ways to tear you apart, but then you can see that begin to dissipate. Deeper within those eyes, you can see melancholic tones, of regret and frustration. She then gives up any facade of anger and simply begins to...disassemble in front of you, as she shifts between halfhearted punches, and sobbing. You freeze up for a moment. This is not what you expected. No. Not what you expected at all. You don't know what to do.
As she lays on you, venting everything that she feels, you hope you understand her pain. You know full well that what you did was suicidal. In those few minutes, you had walked up to death, and goaded it to take you. You should have died there. As much as you would want to prove it wasn't true, luck played perhaps the greatest role in your survival. She does not cry for your miraculous survival. No, she cries for all the ways you may have died. The maroon network of lace that crisscrosses your body pays evidence to such thoughts.
You lay there and take it, all of her cusses, her woes, and grievances, a pillar of sanity for her to hold on to. It does not register when you help her stand up and begin to move. It's barely noticed when a group of navy personnel enters and begins to shepherd you somewhere else. Nor do you care for the stares of random passersby as you give your shoulder away.
You begin to notice that you enter yet another building, this one more homely, a barracks of some sort. You slowly lead the morass of emotions up the stairs. A lookalike awaits you at the top, her face creased with concern and worry. She opens her mouth, mouthing words that you cannot hear. She takes both you into tow, and leads you further down the hall. At this point you realize that the others have left. It is only you three.
At some point she decides to stop, turning to the right and opening the door. She says something else to you that again passes through your mind, marked as unimportant for whatever reason. She tries to shoulder your charge and bring her away. You resist for a brief moment, not wanting to leave her like this. She gives you a knowing nod, and an expression of resignation far beyond her years. You slowly transfer her weight over to her new guardian. She nods once more and begins to walk down the hall once again.
You continue to watch, even as they reach their own room, and enter. Eventually you realize that it is over. You turn to the room and walk in.
It is well furnished for what you assumed to be a barracks, a large bed sitting on either side, a drawer in the middle, a fancy lamp sitting on top of it. A mirror sits in the left corner.
As you pass it however, something very important does finally register to you within your mind, snapping you out of your strange stupor. You just walked across a naval base wearing nothing but a towel.
A brief panic ensues.
You have begun to realize that you tune information in and out at very strange intervals. You are reasonably sure that clothes that sit on your bed right now are yours, although you are somewhat dumbfounded as to their survival after your generally unenjoyable near death experience.
On the bed lays:
[] A Schoolgirl Outfit, in the style of your very own Koninklijke Marine.
[] A semi-traditional outfit, in the style of your very own native Schiedam.
[] A more traditionally military uniform, with minor adjustments towards your styling.
[] Write in
In the mirror lies a girl:
Height:
[] (Height in centimeters)
Eyes(Heterochromia is fine if you want):
[] (Eye color)
Hair:
[] Short
[] Intermediate
[] Long
[] Very long
Hair Style:
[] Write in
Hair Color:
[] Write in
Figure:
[] Undeveloped
[] Developing
[] Developed
Bust:
[] Flat
[] Modest
[] Average
After you finish the business of actually wearing clothes in a semi public setting, you:
[] Go outside and try to find answers. You still don't really know anything about where you are.
[] Explore the dorms. More people probably live here than you three. Go out and try to meet them.
[] Stay put, and try to put together the information you've already gathered.
AHHHHHHHHHHHH. I'm sorry the update is so late. I ended up drowning in school work for a bit. Also ended up tearing the worldbuilding and characters apart two or three times and sewed them back together. I also learned things about clothes that I never wanted to. For example, I got reminded that purple dye was originally harvested from snails.
I'll expand on the outfits more if there's interest, but I kinda want to just get this out of the door after 2 weeks ;_;
For the votes please do stuff in a plan format for appearance, or my mind will break in half trying to tally everything.(yes i hate myself for putting the bust and figure vote in, but I can't keep writing if I don't even really know what the MC looks like)
- Location
- United States
[X] Plan: Short haired red head.
[X] A more traditionally military uniform, with minor adjustments towards your styling.
Height:
[X] 170.688
Eyes(Heterochromia is fine if you want):
[X] (Green)
Hair:
[X] Short
Hair Style:
[X] Unkempt
Hair Color:
[X] Light red
Figure:
[X] Developed
Bust:
[X] Modest
[X] Go outside and try to find answers. You still don't really know anything about where you are.
[X] A more traditionally military uniform, with minor adjustments towards your styling.
Height:
[X] 170.688
Eyes(Heterochromia is fine if you want):
[X] (Green)
Hair:
[X] Short
Hair Style:
[X] Unkempt
Hair Color:
[X] Light red
Figure:
[X] Developed
Bust:
[X] Modest
[X] Go outside and try to find answers. You still don't really know anything about where you are.
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Thors_Alumni
Proud member of Thors Class VII from Liberl
- Location
- Liberl Zemuria.
[X] Plan: Short haired red head.
- Location
- Hug the Moebot; Save the world
A part of me is so tempted to vote for red hair and blue eyes so that she matches the flag of the Netherlands 
Though from what i can tell red is kind of a rare hair colour there? Atleast during the time period De Ruyter is built in.
[x] A Schoolgirl Outfit, in the style of your very own Koninklijke Marine.
Plan: Slight Blonde
Height:
[x] Above average? (Really in cm's? Do you know how hard it is to figure out how tall ship girls are in canon? There doesnt seem to be any hard numbers anywhere)
Eyes(Heterochromia is fine if you want):
[x] Blue
Hair:
[x] Short
Hair Style:
[x] Messy
Hair Color:
[x] Dirty Blonde
Figure:
[x] Developing
Bust:
[x] Modest
----
After you finish the business of actually wearing clothes in a semi public setting, you:
[x] Go outside and try to find answers. You still don't really know anything about where you are.
Probably abit on the slighter, less developed side for a light cruiser but it would fit with her actual ship body. She was apparently under-armed compared to other ships in the class.
Though from what i can tell red is kind of a rare hair colour there? Atleast during the time period De Ruyter is built in.[x] A Schoolgirl Outfit, in the style of your very own Koninklijke Marine.
Plan: Slight Blonde
Height:
[x] Above average? (Really in cm's? Do you know how hard it is to figure out how tall ship girls are in canon? There doesnt seem to be any hard numbers anywhere)
Eyes(Heterochromia is fine if you want):
[x] Blue
Hair:
[x] Short
Hair Style:
[x] Messy
Hair Color:
[x] Dirty Blonde
Figure:
[x] Developing
Bust:
[x] Modest
----
After you finish the business of actually wearing clothes in a semi public setting, you:
[x] Go outside and try to find answers. You still don't really know anything about where you are.
Probably abit on the slighter, less developed side for a light cruiser but it would fit with her actual ship body. She was apparently under-armed compared to other ships in the class.
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Axslashel
I am a pessimist not a realist.
- Location
- Land of the Midnight Sun
[X] Plan: Slight Blonde
180 cm is way to tall for a cruiser, especially a cruiser that weighs 7000 tons and has IRL length of 170m.
Having a school uniform is a plus though, did the Dutch have school uniforms during or just prior to ww2?
[X] Explore the dorms. More people probably live here than you three. Go out and try to meet them.
180 cm is way to tall for a cruiser, especially a cruiser that weighs 7000 tons and has IRL length of 170m.
Having a school uniform is a plus though, did the Dutch have school uniforms during or just prior to ww2?
[X] Explore the dorms. More people probably live here than you three. Go out and try to meet them.
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ARBITRACOM
Sic transit gloria mundi
[X] Plan: Slight Blonde
A description of her:
De Ruyter - class ( 1933 - 1942 )
And some photo's:
Photos of Hr.Ms. cruiser De Ruyter
De Ruyter - class ( 1933 - 1942 )
And some photo's:
Photos of Hr.Ms. cruiser De Ruyter
I don't mind the Blonde plan, but... as far as I can tell, we're different from the others. They were summoned, I'm assuming of course because they might not have been but canon, whereas we ripped ourselves out of the Abyss.
A good character design's appearance would reflect this. The most notable, although only somewhat applicable with differing circumstances, character I can think of to show this is Ginko of Mushishi, who wears modern clothing in ancient Japan, has white hair, and only one eye just to further show his removal from those around himself. Now Ginko is very much an extreme on this scale, I just...
I think a couple of things being very much different from the others would just work better. *Shrug*
Although I very much approve of the blue eyes. I wonder if they would start glowing if we got too angry/hateful... I expect there to be some consequences for how we came back really.
A good character design's appearance would reflect this. The most notable, although only somewhat applicable with differing circumstances, character I can think of to show this is Ginko of Mushishi, who wears modern clothing in ancient Japan, has white hair, and only one eye just to further show his removal from those around himself. Now Ginko is very much an extreme on this scale, I just...
I think a couple of things being very much different from the others would just work better. *Shrug*
Although I very much approve of the blue eyes. I wonder if they would start glowing if we got too angry/hateful... I expect there to be some consequences for how we came back really.
[X] Plan: Slight Blonde adjusted
-[x] A more traditionally military uniform, with minor adjustments towards your styling.
Height:
-[x] Above average? (Really in cm's? Do you know how hard it is to figure out how tall ship girls are in canon? There doesnt seem to be any hard numbers anywhere)
Eyes(Heterochromia is fine if you want):
-[x] Blue
Hair:
-[x] Short
Hair Style:
-[x] Messy
Hair Color:
-[x] Dirty Blonde
Figure:
-[x] Developed
Bust:
-[x] Average
On the matter of actually trying to find a char pic... Well, outside of our hair length, Bismarck and Graf are showing up about every other picture and the blonde haired girls from Girls und Panzer, the leaders of the American, British, and Russian teams, keep showing up as well.
*Shrug*
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Here's a link where some folks on Reddit calculated the approximate heights of Kanmusu. Though Japanese shipgirls might be a tad bit shorter compared to their Western counterparts.
[X] Plan: A slight touch
On the bed lays:
[X] A Schoolgirl Outfit, in the style of your very own Koninklijke Marine.
-[X] Splotches of grey and black stain the normally pristine uniform
Height:
[X] 170 cm
Eyes(Heterochromia is fine if you want):
[X] Blue
Hair:
[X] Short
Hair Style:
[X] Ragged with unevenly cut ends
Hair Color:
[X] A light blonde that fades into white
Figure:
[X] Developing
Bust:
[X] Modest
Mainly inspired by SAB's comments about De Ruyter's origin — putting in some slight references to the Abyss
[X] Plan: A slight touch
On the bed lays:
[X] A Schoolgirl Outfit, in the style of your very own Koninklijke Marine.
-[X] Splotches of grey and black stain the normally pristine uniform
Height:
[X] 170 cm
Eyes(Heterochromia is fine if you want):
[X] Blue
Hair:
[X] Short
Hair Style:
[X] Ragged with unevenly cut ends
Hair Color:
[X] A light blonde that fades into white
Figure:
[X] Developing
Bust:
[X] Modest
Mainly inspired by SAB's comments about De Ruyter's origin — putting in some slight references to the Abyss
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- Location
- Inside my own head
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Um just fyi to properly make a plan one does like so:
[]Plan name
- [] part of plan
- [] part of plan
-- []subpart of the part
etc.
The way most of them are set up right now isn't an issue wrt voting but it makes the tally real messy.
Apart from that based on what Hobarth and/or Perth said I don't think the way we appeared was special (erm as in the way we came into existence, not our appearance).
[X] Plan: Slight Blonde adjusted
I'm also intending that as a vote for the military uniform, some plans include the clothes and some don't so I'm a bit confused.
[X] Explore the dorms. More people probably live here than you three. Go out and try to meet them.
edit: With people messing up plan formatting the tally has become insanely messy so I'm just gonna add a separate vote for the military uniform as well
[X] A more traditionally military uniform, with minor adjustments towards your styling.
[]Plan name
- [] part of plan
- [] part of plan
-- []subpart of the part
etc.
The way most of them are set up right now isn't an issue wrt voting but it makes the tally real messy.
Apart from that based on what Hobarth and/or Perth said I don't think the way we appeared was special (erm as in the way we came into existence, not our appearance).
[X] Plan: Slight Blonde adjusted
I'm also intending that as a vote for the military uniform, some plans include the clothes and some don't so I'm a bit confused.
[X] Explore the dorms. More people probably live here than you three. Go out and try to meet them.
edit: With people messing up plan formatting the tally has become insanely messy so I'm just gonna add a separate vote for the military uniform as well
[X] A more traditionally military uniform, with minor adjustments towards your styling.
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I don't see anything like that at all. There's no comments on our appearance, both just us showing up or our appearance appearance. And remember, military, so they're very much "battle now, figure out wtf later."
I saw, yes. Just... ew.