A. Shore Death is a lot wetter than Shen had imagined. But it is exactly as dark and icy and terrifying as he had imagined, so for a long moment he lets himself sink deeper into the waters. At least until a few drops of something warm are shoved into his beak, and in the next instance he is dragged up to the surface by... a turtle? Can't a peacock even die in peace??
More or less against his will, but still too stunned by... everything to put his heart into any protesting, Shen is dragged to the shore and dumped there like so much driftwood. Like just another broken piece of his fleet, floating uselessly on the water. He does not feel the cold as harshly anymore, but his plumage and robes are still soaked and his army still lost, his fleet, his cannons-- The very large and startlingly white bird rolls over on his back, staring at the bleak, overcast sky. Waiting for his feathers to dry, or death to take him, whichever comes first.
B. Caravan Death had not done him the courtesy of showing up, so Shen is forced to live with the inconvenience of continuing to exist. In a place apparently mainly populated by some kind of horrible hairless ape? He briefly considers the possibility of this being some sort of hell, and these creatures its demons, but surely the countless lives he's taken would have earned him a more prominent reception than this. Surely his impact upon the world had been too great to be ignored in the afterlife. Hadn't it?
Either way, at least he isn't expected to walk to wherever it is that everyone is being sent along to. He climbs into an empty carriage, struggling to maneuver his seven foot long train into it, muttering to himself while he shifts and turns. "Unbelievable! What is this, a carriage for a peasant?"
If anyone tries to set so much as a toe into this carriage, though, they will find themselves with a feather-shaped yet very steely blade at their throat, and a very testy peacock narrowing his eyes at them.
"I'm afraid this seat is taken."
C. Training Grounds Shen has no use for teachers, tutors, or mentors of any kind. What he does have a use for, however, is a wide open space. So he finds a quiet corner of the training grounds and begins his own training. It's a well-practiced series of movements, graceful and fluid but undoubtedly precise. Turns, flips, splits executed in silence, his long train of feathers sweeping the ground and slicing through the air, snapping open and closed like a massive fan. His movements are balanced by a long, glaive-like weapon, a double-edged flame-like blade extending his reach equally in the opposite direction. Deadly in all directions, exactly how he likes it. This, at least, has not been taken from him.
Once he has worked off some excess energy he sets the point of the blade into the ground, but instead of vaulting over the pole, he ends the move perched atop the handle on one leg, holding his balance in deep concentration. Inner peace... How hard could it be? Even that panda had managed it. And he had died, what's more peaceful than that! The eternal peace. At least for a few seconds. While being crushed, the remains of his life's work turned to ash around him--
His metal-reinforced claws dig deep gouges into the pole as it begins to tremble and sway beneath him.
D. Library As disdainful as Shen is of the entire concept of 'saving the universe' and 'magic types' and 'annoying little familiars who think they can tell you what to do', eventually crushing boredom gets to him he does decide to see what all the fuss is about. A library seems as sensible a place as any to start, so he can be found perched on a ladder, white train with blood-red eye-spots cascading majestically down the steps, holding some sort of Beginner's Guide to Alchemy in his wings. Which he almost immediately tosses over his shoulder, because this is for babies and morons. Someone will be along to pick it up shortly, probably.
No, what he needs is to experiment. So next he claims a table, grabs an encyclopedia of alchemical symbols, and etches a transmutation circle into the desk using one of his usually concealed blades. Now he just needs material to subject to an exciting little chemical reaction. Maybe someone's notes or housekeys or whatever else may be easily accessible and slightly unattended. Sacrifices must be made for science, after all.
Lord Shen | Kung Fu Panda | Alchemy/Green
Death is a lot wetter than Shen had imagined. But it is exactly as dark and icy and terrifying as he had imagined, so for a long moment he lets himself sink deeper into the waters. At least until a few drops of something warm are shoved into his beak, and in the next instance he is dragged up to the surface by... a turtle? Can't a peacock even die in peace??
More or less against his will, but still too stunned by... everything to put his heart into any protesting, Shen is dragged to the shore and dumped there like so much driftwood. Like just another broken piece of his fleet, floating uselessly on the water. He does not feel the cold as harshly anymore, but his plumage and robes are still soaked and his army still lost, his fleet, his cannons-- The very large and startlingly white bird rolls over on his back, staring at the bleak, overcast sky. Waiting for his feathers to dry, or death to take him, whichever comes first.
B. Caravan
Death had not done him the courtesy of showing up, so Shen is forced to live with the inconvenience of continuing to exist. In a place apparently mainly populated by some kind of horrible hairless ape? He briefly considers the possibility of this being some sort of hell, and these creatures its demons, but surely the countless lives he's taken would have earned him a more prominent reception than this. Surely his impact upon the world had been too great to be ignored in the afterlife. Hadn't it?
Either way, at least he isn't expected to walk to wherever it is that everyone is being sent along to. He climbs into an empty carriage, struggling to maneuver his seven foot long train into it, muttering to himself while he shifts and turns. "Unbelievable! What is this, a carriage for a peasant?"
If anyone tries to set so much as a toe into this carriage, though, they will find themselves with a feather-shaped yet very steely blade at their throat, and a very testy peacock narrowing his eyes at them.
"I'm afraid this seat is taken."
C. Training Grounds
Shen has no use for teachers, tutors, or mentors of any kind. What he does have a use for, however, is a wide open space. So he finds a quiet corner of the training grounds and begins his own training. It's a well-practiced series of movements, graceful and fluid but undoubtedly precise. Turns, flips, splits executed in silence, his long train of feathers sweeping the ground and slicing through the air, snapping open and closed like a massive fan. His movements are balanced by a long, glaive-like weapon, a double-edged flame-like blade extending his reach equally in the opposite direction. Deadly in all directions, exactly how he likes it. This, at least, has not been taken from him.
Once he has worked off some excess energy he sets the point of the blade into the ground, but instead of vaulting over the pole, he ends the move perched atop the handle on one leg, holding his balance in deep concentration. Inner peace... How hard could it be? Even that panda had managed it. And he had died, what's more peaceful than that! The eternal peace. At least for a few seconds. While being crushed, the remains of his life's work turned to ash around him--
His metal-reinforced claws dig deep gouges into the pole as it begins to tremble and sway beneath him.
D. Library
As disdainful as Shen is of the entire concept of 'saving the universe' and 'magic types' and 'annoying little familiars who think they can tell you what to do', eventually
crushing boredom gets to himhe does decide to see what all the fuss is about. A library seems as sensible a place as any to start, so he can be found perched on a ladder, white train with blood-red eye-spots cascading majestically down the steps, holding some sort of Beginner's Guide to Alchemy in his wings. Which he almost immediately tosses over his shoulder, because this is for babies and morons. Someone will be along to pick it up shortly, probably.No, what he needs is to experiment. So next he claims a table, grabs an encyclopedia of alchemical symbols, and etches a transmutation circle into the desk using one of his usually concealed blades. Now he just needs material to subject to an exciting little chemical reaction. Maybe someone's notes or housekeys or whatever else may be easily accessible and slightly unattended. Sacrifices must be made for science, after all.