exsilium | Video - Keeping Promises

[The video opens on what could be a video game interface - a first-person view looking down from above, a courtyard with Initiative personnel taking a break from their work, enjoying lunch and the outside air, each individual bracketed with HUD reticles as they go about their business, while a variety of status indicators frame the edge of the display. Osprey's voice is heard, calm and professional.]

It has been 32 hours since I issued my demands. There has been no apology from the Initiative, nor has there been any indication that any is forthcoming.

[Osprey's sniper rifle comes into view in the frame, and the display changes, zooming in on one particular table down below, where several men are having lunch. The tracking reticle on one changes color from white to red, and the video of the man discussing the use of the mind control drug displays next to him.]

Colonel Jonathan Landry. The man responsible for the attempted brainwashing attempt.

[The video disappears, and crosshairs appear, centered on the Colonel's head. Then comes the bang, and the man's now headless body tumbles from his seat, before the video cuts to Osprey in front of a non-descript background.]

I repeat my demands. A public apology from the Initiative. Immediate cessation of the drugging. And increased openness and collaboration with the transports in the execution of the campaign against the United Earth. If no apology has been delivered in 24 hours, I will attack a new target, and then again 24 hours after that.

If there has been no apology by the time of my third strike, I will be forced to conclude that the Initiative prefers a state of guerilla warfare, and the pace of attacks will increase. I await your response.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

And who is in command? Whence do we derive our strategy? Where is our refuge? Who do we trust?

Do not misunderstand me, my friend: I do not condemn the action, I only fear for the consequences of our lack of preparation. There is evil in the world, and it must be repaid in kind if ever men are to be free. But Osprey has decided for all of us, for good or ill, and if there is a price to be paid, Anders, it is not such as you and I who will pay it. If we cannot protect the others, we fight for nothing.

So to that end I propose we contact all of the transported who have little defense and offer them such safety as we may provide. [He jams his fingers into his hair.] Though in truth I do not know what that may be.

It's the Initiative who put these defenseless transports into danger. First, by yanking them out of their homes into Exsilium. Second, by dumping them into a five-day battle for some village in a place called Assyria, against some professional soldiers of an empire called Rome, and expecting them to fight. With no strategy. With no clear command.

The only refuge we'll have is what we make for ourselves, and the only way we'll get it is to wrest it from our captors' hands.

Agreed. I only wish we had had some time to prepare.

Where do you suggest we go? If there were forest nearby I would know better where to begin. As it is I cannot think of any place that can be made safe enough, but perhaps there is nowhere and we must simply begin.

[[ooc: THE SEWERS HUZZAH]]

I have some ideas.

Come round the flat, if we're not under martial law already.

Once again Robin found himself at Anders' door, this time knocking more moderately. "Anders?"

A haggard and pale Anders opens the door and ushers Robin in without a word. Not until the door's secured behind them does he speak.

"Right. There's no forest to speak of, unless you count those," and he gestures to a couple of potted ficus plants (which cost far more than they had any right to cost, to Anders' way of thinking, but he feels they were worth the expense. For health, mental and otherwise). "There is, however, another option. Possibly. Depending how creative we can be. Remember when I asked you to cat-sit for us, not too long ago? I ... didn't exactly tell you where we were going."

He pulls the crinkled and marked-up map from an inner pocket of his coat. Such is the value of this map to Anders, he carries it with him wherever he goes.

And suddenly, it was as though he could breathe. Whatever it was Anders was saying was dimmed in the rush of sensation that assails Robin. The type of tree he knew not, only that it was alive, and growing, and calling to him: whispers brushing against his mind, in his heart.

His breath hitched.

[[ooc: that last sentence was just for you.]]

Anders looks askance. "Are you all right?"

Robin glanced at Anders in some surprise - for a moment he'd forgotten all about him. He shook his head, trying to recover his balance. "Sorry, I - sorry. It's - I've been..."

He took a deep breath and let it go. "Do you know the feeling when you've been still for so long that your limbs go numb, and then when they awaken from disuse - there's pain, but it only serves to help you realize..." Robin rubbed a hand over his face. He was rambling and he knew it. Anders must think him mad.

Plans for a safe haven, that was why he was here. He needed to focus.

But there was still that insistent whisper, that call, that told him the trees needed him as much as he needed them. With a shrug, Robin gave up. "Forgive me, I can't - do you mind if I..." He'd crossed to the small trees without conscious thought, fingers reaching toward them.

"Not at all. Be my guest," Anders says, quietly, half certain Robin doesn't hear him. There's something going on here, and Anders' curiosity has been piqued; he wants to see whatever's going to happen.

Robin's fingers touched the leaves gently, the merest brush, but it was as though all the color in the world suddenly bled back into his sight. A beatific smile lit up his features; he reached his hand toward each small trunk and sketched a small rune with his fingertips.

There was no air stirring in the room, yet the leaves rustled as though in a sudden gust. And the two small trees began to... grow.

Their trunks thickened perceptibly, bending and reaching toward each other, the bark roughening, leaves multiplying. Branches began to intertwine, forming a low cradle, and then another higher up, weaving themselves strong and thick with hidden places and the breath of growing things. Where once had stood two small potted ficus now stood a living arch of greenery that covered most of one wall.

Robin gave a low laugh of exultation, looking up at Anders suddenly, inviting him to share his joy. "Wonderful," he murmured. "I did not know anything grew here - I could feel nothing. I've felt so empty without the song of the forest in my head."

He sat back on his heels and looked at his handiwork, and then back up at the mage. "I know this was not your intent, but you have given me a gift, friend Anders. I am in your debt."

Robin got easily to his feet and dusted off his hands. He could think now, the familiar ebb and flow of the greenwood's magic once again soothing his mind. "To the point, then: you have found something?"

Anders has been well and truly sidetracked, however, by ... whatever just happened with the plants.

"That's brilliant. How'd you do that? It's certainly not any magic I've ever read about, let alone learned."

"The skill was taught by Herne the man, though the gift was given by Herne the spirit." Robin shrugged. "I am Herne's son; had I... had I stayed, I would have become the Hunter myself." He grinned. "It has been a long time, though. I hope Ser Pounce and Uriel enjoy their new plaything. The trees will not mind."

He spoke with an energy he did not know he had been missing, and if his speech was disjointed, Robin was not aware of it. His mind was racing, his blood pumping; he felt wonderful.

Video - Keeping Promises

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