[It was dark and the video barely made out Ico’s face but the moonlight caught on his horns, making him easy to distinguish. He looked over his shoulder and breathed in but before he could say anything, he was struck from above.

The feed tumbled until the netbook landed on the floor, now showing only the night sky. The screen crackled with static. Ico screamed, his voice distorted by the malfunctioning device. As the sounds of struggling continued, his screaming intensified. Suddenly, the screen was flooded with a bright white light. The light flowed into the streets, turning part of the city into day. The video cut off and the light disappeared.]

{OOC: Backdated to the night of the attack. Action is locked. IC replies are delayed until Ico recovers and repairs or replaces his netbook.}

[ Ranka's turning on the video feed is more deliberate this time; she's not surprised by it for one thing, and for another she looks a little more nicely dressed than the last time. She doesn't have her concert outfits from home or anything, but her hair's brushed neatly and she's found a yellowish blouse that's complemented by an orange necklace around her neck - something she was given right on her first day. She gives the feed a smile, only a little sheepish today. ]

Good morning, everyone! There's sure been a lot going on lately, huh? It's been pretty scary...but I'm sure that's been true for everybody! Or maybe I'm just assuming...

But the last time I said something here, people seemed interested in listening to me sing. And - [ okay she'll just. she'll channel her inner Sheryl. ] - so I thought that the scary things happening would be all the more reason to sing now.

[ She takes a breath, pulling back slightly. Songstress of Hope. Okay. ]

So everyone, please hold me until the end of the galaxy!

( ooc cut for lyrics and stuff )

The way I see it-

[Isaac is in one of the training areas- he's dressed in loose clothing, slightly sweat-damp, and with that cocky, arrogant little grin on his face. Just behind him, slightly obscured by the camera angle, is one of those hefty training dummies, and it's now in absolute tatters, worn down at the chest and head area and generally ripped to shreds.]

This 'training' is a joke. If we're going to be fighting real people out there, we need to be fighting real people in here. So.

[He tilts his chin upward, utterly confident in himself.]

Someone come spar with me.

[ Arthur clears his throat with a loud ahem before he sets in. ]

I'm looking for a man. He could easily be mistaken for a boy with his twig-like figure, and perhaps even a lady for how pale and dainty he appears.

He answers to a sundry set of things 'Servant', 'Dunce', 'Useless dolt', but more often than not 'Merlin' is the popular title.

Places you may choose to look first would include any taverns or pubs about, as he has the nasty habit of wasting his workday away nose deep in a pint of ale. Sometimes he can even go missing for days, weeks at a time. It's dreadful, really. It's painful to watch. And sad. Tearing his family and friends apart, and it really doesn't help he has no social skills to speak of, so getting said friends back will be a task hard won.

[ Ahem, back on track. Right. ]

Should you see him or catch wind of his likely unbathed and alcohol drenched state, please inform him, his liege's boots require his attendance, and should he take a second longer than needed, said boots may be coming to impact with his backside.

Thank you kindly.