[The video clicks on and Susan's panting, she's taking a break, and there a lot of ... dead things around her. Twitching and groaning pieces of whatever it was that had been undead. Bits of blood splattered on her face, her clothes but she's made sure not to swallow a drop of it. The sword that she carries with her has been shoved in the ground, that same tacky red so thick it's black blood sticking to it's not quite visible blade. It suits that skull of a pommel so nicely. She's crouched down, arms resting on her knees as she talks.]

If anyone needs some help... feel free to ask. [there's a groan from off screen] Oh for the love of -- it's bad enough you're an abomination to death without point or purpose and are displaced, but couldn't you at least have the decency to shut up?

[she's growling, for her. Her mood is black. Black like her clothes, black like the streak in her hair. It's inherited. Grandfather got in such a foul mood when things didn't go his way, Susan wasn't any better as it turned out.] Honestly. This time of year. All I wanted was a nice, normal Hogswatch. With a nice normal family, where we all sat around giving presents. Then everything goes to bloody pieces -- and then I get sucked here instead.

These aren't even proper zombies! They're just mindless creatures. They don't even want to live really, zombies are supposed to want to live more than anything and get on with it! [she's ranting, she's really upset when it comes down to it. About everything. About this stupid situation, about her life is at odds again and she can't even fix it, about the auditors, about that this place doesn't make sense and people keep questioning her. But with no proper outlet, and with these monsters to kill, it's all bubbling up.] God, what would Grandfather even say? This goes against everything he is. If I ever find out who did this, I swear...

[There's another groan, and something else seems to be moving and she's fed up. Doesn't bother turning the device off. Just drops it and in one smooth move she pulls the blade from the ground. It is a clear shot of her. Or most of her. The zombie that is shambling towards her. She raises the blade up -- it's too big for her, wielding with two hands. Still it's wielded with no problem and the poor light glints off the skull. For a moment she's not Susan, she's seven foot tall with her cloak flaring out behind.]

Wʜᴇɴ I ᴋɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ -- ʏᴏᴜ sᴛᴀʏ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ! [the words aren't spoken, but they're heard. They roll like like thunder, crack light lightning and are as heavy as the cement slabs sliding into place over graves. She swings the blade and beheads it cleanly. Smooth as butter, not like hacking through something made of flesh and bones, the blue light on the edge of the blade bright against the muck around it. Once it's dead, she stomps back to the device. Seemingly back to normal.] If anyone needs me, just contact me.

So I take it this isn't exactly unusual.

[ And if you wanna know what Adam means with 'this' ... well, the video opens with a closeup of a rabbit, snarling and squirming and hanging off an arm it has bitten into and just won't let go. The person that arm belongs to doesn't sound too bothered, probably because that arm is made of solid, black metal that's not at all sensitive to pain. ]

( Cut for implied animal violence; private messages to Samus, Edgeworth, Barnaby )

 [ A beautiful elf maiden's face appears on the feed. She has a delicate appearance, but from all the grime, dirt and blood marring her features, it's obvious that she's far from defenseless. The video is shaky because the hand holding it is trembling in fear. She's wearing a firm, authoritative expression however -- the expression of a no-nonsense General.  ]

My name is Laurana. We can exchange pleasantries when this place is safe.

I've noticed competent men and women took up arms to keep them off, but what about people that need help? Is there a closed, walled off space where non-combatants and children could be safe? I will volunteer to keep such a place together. All I ask is cooperation, especially from healers and people that know how to fight.

If there is one already, then I would like to help as much as I can. Another bow to the numbers helps.

[ When she's done, she gives a polite nod and the feed goes off. ]

In accordance to an agreement I made with a certain gentleman upon my arrival 4 months ago, I do believe I'm entitled to some, ah... undead affection. And while I don't mean that attractively pale dead man with the glowing eyes, let it be said that I certainly wouldn't be opposed to that, as well!

But here I'm faced with a dilemma. I haven't heard from this charming corpse in quite some time — do you think I ought to look him up and remind him? Or shall I assume that he's a cadaver of his word and await his making good on our deal in his own time?

[ with a definite smirk in his voice here: ] Or perhaps this much will prove enough to spark a little reminder, hmm?

[ Here is that teal-haired doctor again. Only how curious! Her ears are now webbed and there's green scales just near the base. If anyone noticed her before they'll remember she'd been wearing a white hat for the last few weeks. And probably also that before that she had completely average looking round, human ears.

Cat's out of the bag. But why? Well, that half-empty glass of scotch in her hand and the fact she's obviously in a rather rowdy bar are probably some very good clues.
She giggles at whatever slurred joke the man next to her just said and grins into the tablet. ]

Hey! Hey I've been thinking and Ihavesomethingtosay. [ She smacks her hand down on the table to punctuate that. ] So. You know what's hard? keeping friends from plotting murder. I dare say the most thankless job to be had. 'Specially when they think you hate them... [ She rakes a hand through her hair and down her face, rubbing around her eye before it drops away. ] But they're both idiots. No, no. Wait a moment....

[ A squint, and a focused counting on her fingers. 1,2,3,4... ] How... how many of you kill? Its not just the reckless two. Sweet blue earth.

I think. I think 's is just depressing. [ She slouches, shoulders hunching a bit, the good mood from just a moment ago washed away.

A grimace and a long gulp of her drink. ]

Hey... Hey someone talk to me? Its a saying, my mother would say. 'Ripples always return'; it doesn't translate well. But that means kind words will come back to you, so let's talk, about anything. ...Maybe a story? Give me one and I will return it 'with a kiss'. With kindness.