[ Video--coming from Adam's tablet for once, and not his retinal enhancements. it shows him, obviously in his messy apartment, and obviously... different from what one might be used to. he's neither properly dressed nor his usual stoic, composed, monotone self.

but most notably, the lenses of his shades--which are mounted to his head--are retracted. his eyes are visibly artificial. here's the usual gravely voice: ]

...And they keep dragging more and more people here. Or is that the machine malfunctioning again? Can't be sure anymore.

Anyway, hello. My name's Adam Jensen and I'm -- [ insert vague, dismissive gesture here--his hand, too, is artificial and looks like it's made out of black metal. ] ... who the fuck even cares. I'm the local oversized can opener. Hi.

[ if it wasn't obvious before that he's drunk, it's sure as hell now. ]

Given the uh, premise under which you all arrived here as well as the popularity of thought-provoking surveys lately, let's talk about a topic each of you surely can contribute to with a story or two. Since I couldn't help but notice that we're quite a miserable bunch of misfits. Exceptions prove the rule by the way.

[ pause, during which he reaches off screen... for his smoke. ]

So, broken dreams. There's a pretty catchy song on them by Green Day which I can only recommend. But before you scurry off to find it, why don't we share with the class why we're all so damn bitter, and not only since we ended up in this shithole. Though I guess the shithole made it worse, in some cases. I don't know. Getting it off your chest might have a soothing effect, or something.

[ another pause, and he seems pensive for a moment. he might be able to offer alternative treatment methods for your troubles which may involve punching ahem. ]

Here, I'll start. I was planning to get married not too long ago, start a family. I had the perfect girl, a decent job I liked and paid well, and then--then science happened.

[ a dry, humorless chuckle. ]

Gotta love science. Your turn.

[Koltira's at his lake, seated comfortably on a frozen platform in the center of the water. He's half-dressed in armor--no breastplate, pauldrons, or gauntlets, but he's got greaves on his crossed legs. Otherwise, he's wearing a simple, black tunic with a high collar and long sleeves. Byfrost is visible behind him, stuck in the ice and surrounded by a black, animated miasma. His bright, cold eyes are intensely focused on the tablet and whomever he might be reaching with it, and his manner and bearing are as stoically formal as ever.]

In Azeroth, there is a celebration called Hallow's End. I know similar events are common on Earth and perhaps elsewhere, but the holiday had specific, unique meanings for us. Recently, for example, free undead used Hallow's End to commemorate breaking the Lich King's shackles on their souls.

[he grins here, though it's slight and pained, before continuing.]

But prior to that, the humans of my world took it as a period of reflection. They built an effigy, a wicker man, and they participated in a simple ritual. Each of them took up a torch, lit it on a bonfire, and then tossed it onto the dry straw. The burning torch represented the past: memories, anxieties, worries, burdens. By throwing the torch onto the effigy, they let go of their troubles, so as to more easily face the future.

I am not suggesting that the past is so easily cleansed. I know full well that it is not. But I find the ritual worthwhile. It is a moment's peace. A meditation. And it is something I could well use. Perhaps some of you feel the same.

In any case, though the traditional days for this event passed while we were preoccupied, I intend to build the wicker man. If you'd like to help with the burning, you may visit me in a week's time.

[Directions to an area somewhat south of his lake, but still in the clearing, follow. After that, there's quiet for a few moments, then some irritated button-tapping ... this guy just doesn't know how to use his tablet. Finally, he sighs, and adds.]

Chloe, I shall begin work on your necklace shortly. Please bring me a hair tie.

[The voice that speaks is hollow, computerized.  To anyone that doesn't know otherwise they'd think there's a robot on the other end.]

I guess now that things have calmed down and I've had time to dig around on the network so graciously provided to us by our kidnappers, I should introduce myself.  I am Ghost.  No, that's not my real name it's a codename.  No, I will not tell you my real name.  You only need know me as Ghost.

I have noticed a number of undead running around, I do hope none of you will pose a threat.

[There's a pause as she lets that hang in the air a moment.]

I guess that was it.  I'm really not much good with these kinds of things.

[ Artemis appears to be reclining in his apartment, and when he addresses the communicator he sounds bored. ]

So. What's the deal with elves?

So Vanadi's hosting the big Masquerade Ball later this month, and that got me to thinking...

( Collette starts ticking things off on her fingers. )

There's no age limit, everyone's going to be wearing a mask and in costume, there's no supervision, and one of the most common questions out of new people showing up here is "where's the nearest bar," so it'll also have alcohol. Lots of it.

( Collette leans forward, chin resting on her interlaced hands, elbows on the table. She grins. )

This is so much better than Prom would ever be.

[ Someone should tell Cairistiona that she could get other clothes than the ones she has on right now - armor's good and all, but it sure doesn't help her not scare others away. Oh, well. Anyway, she's figured out the device as best as possible and will wave at the camera. ]

From what I've seen during my time here so far as well as what's been going on the network, I have to wonder: How often are training sessions held? And... would anyone care for me as a trainer? I can provide swordsmanship for those who would like to take up a sword as well as defensive maneuvers in combat.

[ No, sorry, she won't teach you how to summon ghouls or gargoyles. B| ]

[ FILTERED FROM ARTHAS MENETHIL ]

To those familiar with the name Arthas Menethil or, if he goes by the title here - the Lich King, could you explain in full what he has done during his time here? The reason I wish to know is that I want to prevent any further Scourge uprisings from happening here as well as try to think of a way to deal with him beyond what has been tried beforehand.

Thank you in advance.

[ FILTERED TO KOLTIRA DEATHWEAVER ]

Are you busy, Koltira? There's something I want to ask.

[HERE'S MS. NO-NONSENSE THEIRIN PUTTING ON HER BEST MAC TIR FACE Maker it's scary how easily she can project her father sometimes addressing the camera with a rather serious expression. it's obvious this is directed at a specific someone...shame she doesn't know how to private conversations.]

With the monsters gone, I suppose I can finally ask something that has been needling my mind for a few weeks now.

[she leans forward, a demanding look in her eyes.]

When shall I be seeing my third roommate back in his rightful, assigned home, Bariyan? I have been told that he seemed awfully receptive to Alistair's invitation, so why is it that after he discussed it with you he suddenly became less inclined to return?

I certainly hope the boy hasn't been fed lies in an attempt to keep him in your possession, Bariyan.

[ locked away from Arthas, sorry boo ]

[ This video will not be displaying Sylvanas. Instead, she’s fashioned the device to hang from her neck and record what’s in front of her as she makes her way across the city. Occasionally, a bow with notched arrow, engulfed in a sort of arcane fire, will come into view before being fired off at one of the invading mutated monsters, but she speaks like she’s on an afternoon stroll. ]

Good people of Exsilium, I would have your ear for a moment. [ Look at her pretending not to be the cold and merciless bitch that she is. ] My name is Sylvanas Windrunner, a queen and long time military leader in my realm before my summons here, and I come to you with the proposal of alliance.

As we are, we remain scattered and divided, the Initiative’s leadership not more than a hardly amusing joke. Even between those of us transports brought forth, there is strife building, those that would seek to harm and dominate the others [ coughARTHAScough ], and as when we are laid siege as we are now, we attack in scattered groups, unorganized. Not one of us assured a fellow at our back should we be overwhelmed.

I suggest the forming of a more formidable force and offer the utmost of my military knowledge and combative power to aid.

[ Another arrow sent flying straight into the eye of a mutated dog-thing and she continues nonplussed. ] I ask only your loyalty, and in return, offer an immense wealth of power, security, and safe haven. Should you find yourself hunted or troubled in this place, know that you will have allies to lend a hand.

That is all.

( Some Privated Messages )

[Filtered from Arthas Menethil/The Lich King.]

[ The sight that fills the video is one of magnificence really. Purple and golden fabric drape along the background with various crystals floating in the air and a table centered with an intricately designed teapot (with matching cups). Oh, there's also an orc present. He's soon joined by his ally who presumably set up the device to record. There's a moment of hesitation between the two before the human woman turns to face the screen to address the audience. ]

Good day fellow travelers to this realm. [ Her voice is bolstered in confidence, although her gaze falters from time to time. ] There are many of you here that I have yet to meet and for that I unfortunately must ask that we postpone further pleasantries.

[Thrall isn’t quite sure where to put his hands, so he settles them on his knees and looks toward the camera. At least he thinks it’s the camera. Just when he gets used to using one form of technology, they change it out for something that’s still too small for his hands. Anyway, his expression is serious and faintly contemplative. There’s a lot to be said here, and a lot that he shouldn’t say. Not yet.] The arrival of someone from our world has made it apparent that precautions should be taken. [His brows furrow.] And so we must warn you, and decide what to do from there. This dark conqueror was once named Prince Arthas Menethil, but now he wears the armor and the title of Lich King. He is no man, but a monster.

A monster? [ Jaina cuts him off with her own intrusion and for a moment there, she appears almost as though she wants to argue that. With a gulp loud enough to be picked up by the device, she forces herself to continue. ] That's right. [ Steadily growing more strength with that single phrase alone. ] A monster that if left unattended to will purge this entire world of life. The blight will warp the land and from every living being a monstrosity will be born. Man, woman, creature or child. Living or dead. Their bodies will take up arms against those who oppose him and unlike that with a sentient mind, they will annihilate without any concern for their crimes.

[ Leaning back into her chair, her breathing slowly becomes more irregular as she forces herself to continue. ] There are a number of atrocities he's committed back in Azeroth. So many so that the brave, brave people of our world have risen to take the fight to his doorsteps. I, I was almost there. [ There's a seething edge to her tone with that phrase as she nears dangerously close to a point unlike her. ]

Jaina... [Her name escapes his lips, a soft concerned rumble, before he can stop himself. Seeing all that anger sneak into her expression, the tightness of her knuckles in the tablecloth-- it’s all he can do to keep from reaching across the table. He shakes his head slowly.] The damage he could do to this world is unthinkable, but far from impossible.

Knowing this, what are our choices? Would the Initiative assist us, knowing the danger they have brought upon their country? I have heard of a judicial system in passing, but I am not sure how effective it would be. Whatever must be done, it must be done as a group, with as much preparation and planning as possible. Do NOT engage the Lich King alone. We don’t know if he can circumvent how the Initiative deals with death.

It remains imperative that you do not approach him on your own.

[ Jaina emphasizes on this point in the hopes of drilling it into the heads of those listening in. Rising to her feet, her steps are just a bit heavier than before as her agitation weighs her down in her approach for the device. She felt there was nothing more she can say to this as she cuts the recording short. ]

( ooc note: )

[GUESS WHO'S BEING AWKWARD OVER THE NETWORK AGAIN, DINGDING YOU ARE CORRECT. Johnny hates asking for help. Hates it. But he's at a loss here.]

So, uh. I need someone's help with somethin'. I don't expect anyone to volunteer for this. I mean, I sure as hell wouldn't but I dunno how else to do this shit. Maybe, like, I can get a volunteer and someone else can play ref...

Anyway. Um. So this place let me keep the power I used to have, except they made it suck less. Thing is, I still don't know how to use it too well, an' it ain't like a physical weapon I can just go and train with. Basically I... talk people into doin' stuff. All I gotta do is look at 'em and talk to 'em, and they'll pretty much do whatever I say. Least, that's how it used to go. I dunno how strong it is, what people will or won't do, things like that. And I kinda wanna know, in case I ever, ya know, need to use it against the "bad guys", I guess.

...

Now ya know why no one's gonna volunteer. But if anyone's got any suggestions, lemme know?

[LONG TIME NO POST. but hey, shiny new...typey-posty-devices. he must try. he must...fail to really get how this shit works.

the feed is sideways. a blink, a beat with an expression realizing oh hey it's doing a thing, and then a moment to quickly right the thing. this way. whew. okay.]

Ha, uh...Sorry. [sheepish.] I wasn't very good with the old one...and this one's stranger. [let him demonstrate by trying to fold one corner of it into view...but not really getting that far and just kind of. shaking the feed. oh well.]

Maybe it just takes getting used to... [by golly it only took months to feel comfortable with the old one what could go wrong with this.] I'll try not to do anything too strange or...press anything I don't recognize. [which is a lot.] I just wanted to make sure I could at least...hear from people again.

[a beat.

wait...]

I'm...being heard right now, right?

[For anyone that happens to be looking at the network when it comes back online, they will find not a familiar face (at least not for most). The will find a very large man, clad in battleworn dreadplate, made of a metal only a few would recognize, particularly if they've consorted with Koltira Deathweaver in any fashion. His hair is ghost white an wispy, face skeletal and skin pale.

The most striking feature is his glowing blue eyes, just a hint of stark green behind them, which is most noticeable when he turns his gaze to the camera, large gloved hand still reaching for the communicator, as if he just finished how to figure it out. Briefly, his expression narrows and he shifts to one knee, which allows the view of Frostmourne in his other hand beside him. He then looks up as there is noise of someone approaching offscreen. A devilish, predatory smirk replaces the previous grim expression for a moment before he looks back down at the screen, the expression smoothing to something almost friendly.]

Rumor has it you're all just dying for a breath of fresh air. I have ways of fixing that.

 [the feed is inconsistent throughout this transmission, particularly the visuals, which cut out at random intervals, followed by brief audio feedback.  Koltira kneels beside a couple of bodies, and he's holding the netbook so as to provide a clear view of their still, open-eyed faces.  The edges of his cloak are visible, as well; he has placed it over them like a temporary shroud, as his purpose here is not to show off trophies of war.  Several other figures stand near the bodies; one is Emma Frost, in her diamond form, arms crossed over her chest.  Tier Halibel is an active blur, still battling ground troops.]

Exsilium, I have something to show you.

[A clawed, armored hand gestures to the men on the ground.  They are exactly, eerily alike in form and detail, with unnerving, milky-blue eyes and sharp, attractive features--high cheekbones, strong jaws, perfectly and scientifically symmetrical.  Both of the men have black hair, neatly cut; they are twin to one another in every way, like mass produced mannequins.]

These are the faces beneath the masks.  Acquaint yourselves.

[the feed becomes even more unstable.  The last image it catches before cutting out entirely is that same armored hand, passing over both men's faces, shutting their eyes with surprising, solemn gentleness.  Koltira doesn't hate these men: it's clear that they are just tools, prefabricated slaves created for the UE's use, and he knows more than a little something of that.]

[Emma doesn't advertise the fact, but she's pretty good with electronics. Which means she knows to dial back the resolution and select a highly redundant compression algorithm when she decides to make a video post over the currently-unreliable network.

So there's Emma, grainy and with some fuzzing around the edges, as unimpressed as ever, hair pulled up into a messy knot that somehow seems like she meant it to look like that.]

There are ground troops looking for the catacombs.

[How does she know that? Telepathy. Clever deduction. ]

Unfortunately, the surface is...inhospitable. If you don't need to breathe, or can otherwise shrug off a gas attack, I want to take a group up and see what we can do about thinning that herd, and perhaps getting a few answers.

[If you don't already know that Emma can turn into diamond, she looks ludicrously unqualified for what she's proposing, but her bearing shows no uncertainty at all.]

...Stark, that means you.

[Lena is sitting cross-legged on her bed with a sword balanced across her knees. She scowls down at it]

Why are these...apartments so white? [The way she says 'apartment' makes it clear the word is unfamiliar] It's almost enough to give a person snow blindness.

I need to get some air. Is there anyone out there with some familiarity in using a sword? Or...who doesn't mind facing off with someone using one, for that matter. I need practice against more than just people using the same weapon as me. [She shoves a hand back through her hair] Especially in this place.

[He doesn't particularly want to make this post, but he's aware that it's necessary. His voice and expression don't betray his inner exhaustion--they don't betray much of anything, really, given the unknowable glow of his eyes--but rest assured that he's ready to lock himself away and not emerge for quite some time. He'd done all he could, and none of it had mattered. The child was dead; Bariyan had run off. Koltira's heart is a shard of ice.

His words are short, calm and deliberate.]

The business with Martin Darkov is finished. You need not concern yourselves over the matter any longer.

[ooc: despite his tone, he's angry/tired/frustrated/etc PICK A NEGATIVE EMOTION and it's swirling around in him at present, so responses may cut off abruptly/not happen/etc.]

Bariyan is dead.

[ Someone is having difficulties sounding his usual calm and measured today! This comes out sounding pretty forced. ]

I tried to — I'm sorry. I could do nothing for him, and... and perhaps the Initiative, as they've done for others, will return him. I couldn't— 

[ a pause. ]

I'm sorry.

[ Scott's made the effort to prop the netbook up on his desk, so when the video flicks on, it has that staged look - he's sitting in his desk chair a few feet back, elbows on his knees and head slightly lowered. But his eyes are locked on the screen, and the general vibe is definitely "not happy". ]

I'm looking for Derek Hale - let me know if you've seen or heard from him. [ There's a beat, then he remembers to have some manners. ] Thanks in advance.

Derek, if you're out there, quit being a jerk and respond.

( Private - Dean Winchester )

[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.}

[ The be-horned woman on the screen seems to be squinting at the camera very intently, glowing eyes darting back and forth. It's the look of a perennial favorite around here, that of one who hasn't used technology before but has at least been instructed in its usage, and uncertain if it's working as intended. After a good thirty seconds, her expression softens into something serious, but kind and gentle in its own way, and another moment more sees her sitting back into a chair, folding her hands in her lap. ]

Citizens, transports, and anyone else who might lend their attention for a moment. My name is Alexstrasza, and I have been brought here against my will like many of you. Another time, I would have been happy to offer my assistance, but my world is also in peril, and my presence is needed there just as much as it is here... perhaps even more so.

I do not wish to bring our captors to any harm, but I will do what I must to be returned to my rightful place and time. Those who would and are able to assist, I have no rewards to offer for your time and efforts, but know what you will have my gratitude.

[ She hesitates only a moment longer, as though she might want to say something more, before deciding against it and reaching forward to end the feed for the time being. ]

How wonderful it was, being attacked by my own roommate in the supposed safety of my apartment.

[sarcasm. so much sarcasm.

and there's a reason why she took the time to make this voice. it's because she doesn't exactly look ~presentable~]

I suppose I would have bled to death had it not been for...well-timed help. And this does explain the teeth...

[she's trailing off, but easily sets herself back on track and her voice is firm.]

I doubt I will be the last of these attacks. Keep an eye out, fellow transports, there is a beast with a penchant for lances lurking about. He may be young, but he is strong enough to render a door practically useless, and apparently unable to discern friend from foe.

This is not the first time I've been called to another world...or time. Is it the same for others here? [a slight pause. reflective:] There was a city. A different kind of machine. The voice was different.

[a lengthier pause.]

I sense...others like myself, in a way. My power. Am I to offer the same? [softer:] This world's timing would be...[a breath.]

This is "Earth," as well, isn't it?

[Here is a cheerfully smiling Mahdi. He's holding up an obnoxiously cute kitten planner and looking cheerful.]

Hi everyone. I've been thinking. If we're all going to be stuck here for a long time, I figured I should find out everyone's birthday and if they have a favorite meal or type of cake. If you'd please respond to this message with your name, birthday, and a little bit about you, I'd really appreciate it!

On that note, I was thinking. If people keep turning up, we should have some sort of monthly event so everyone can get to know each other, introduce ourselves and catch up and celebrate one another's birthdays. Like a potluck, maybe? There are too many people to do do this at my apartment, so I'd need to figure out a spot. What do you think?

Oh, by the way. I'm Mahdi. I like cats, singing, and cooking. My birthday is Valentine's Day!

[So Bloodsnap is getting used to living with the initiative and its bullshit, and she can't say its too much of a step back from what she was dealing with on Azeroth. Some things could have gone differently, but all and all, she doesn't seem too put off by her experiences.

So she sits, having finally figured out how to work the network, and stares down at the camera. The device appears to be sitting in her lap, so the network gets a full view of her wringing her hands every now and then. Even though she sounds pretty chipper, there are some bags under her eyes -- lack of sleep perhaps? Stress? Who knows?]

Strictly speaking...would you lot say we're outnumbered around these parts?

[Her hands go still as she perches her chin on them. The world shaman's recent arrival has given her something to think about, in terms of raw power at their her disposal.]

Not that numbers are the end-all of war or anything.

[audio --> video]

Attention, [intones the deep, rough, and rich voice of a newcomer.] I was told that I could contact other-- [the barest pause] -- transports with this device. This is a test signal. If you are able to hear me, please respond.

Or perhaps there is another way—?

[Without any warning, the video feed switches on, showing a green blur at first. At last it evens out, centering on a wrinkled green face possessing two startlingly blue eyes... strangely gentle, despite his otherwise beastly appearance. His hair is black and braided in front, and some of it leaks out of his beige hood. His expression is grave, concerned with recent events and things yet to come.]

I appreciate any information you can give me regarding the nature of missions and the history of this center. If I am to fight for my freedom, so be it, but I will not fight blindly.

[Another pause.] Thank you for your help. [He fiddles with the netbook for a second, then the transmission ends.]

[The feed picked up the sound of Ico running and panting. He was searching the city and went as far as the edge of the forest so it would be easy to see him around somewhere.]

I haven’t seen Kahlan for a while and now Miranda is gone, too. Has anyone seen them? What happened?

[ The video feed turns on to reveal some - well, some fumbling as Ranka makes sure she got it on right and has the camera angled at her properly. There's a beat before she realizes it's also on and straightens, aiming a beam at anyone watching. ]

Um - the lady who gave me this computer when I got here said that I could use it to talk to everyone else here. So I wanted to say hello! My name's Ranka Lee, and it's very nice to meet all of you.

[ She almost throws in a please take care of me! with a bow, but decides against it. She's quiet for a moment as she works out what else to say, before awkwardly hitching up her smile again. It's no less genuine, just also mixed in with uncertainty and nervousness. ]

You know, I never thought that much about what the situation must be like in other planets or other dimensions! I wouldn't have guessed that something like this could be happening here...but I guess it's kind of silly to just assume it'd be peaceful in other places...even so!

[ Where was she going with this aaaaa. She doesn't so much get intense stage - or camera - fright, but she's still used to these things being fairly scripted and set out. ]

Oh, and also - um, back in Frontier, I'd just had my first concert! It got delayed because of a lot of reasons, but what I wanted to say is... [ oh no oh no this is so presumptuous she can't just assume people want to listen to her sing here...! ] What I wanted to say is, even if we might be here for a little while, I still love to sing so - please give me a chance, everyone.

[ THAT WAS TERRIFYING she really hopes Mr Elmo or Ms Grace would think that was okay. She flashes one last smile before finally ending the feed. ]

(ooc: OH GOSH sob also thank you to whoever got her that paidkljsdf ♥)

[OOC: Backdated after this log.]

[Public video because Ico did not know how to make private messages.]

Koltira, where are you? I [yawn] have something important to give you.

[The feed turns on to a blue-haired woman looking critically into the netbook. Her head tilts in a thoughtful gesture. She's working it correctly, right?
A second later and she's clearing her throat with a small noise, staring at the screen squarely, eyebrows knit, jaw set, back straight.

She really looks like she could use some coffee.]

So we've all been roped into a war. I haven't heard anything on how far into battle the rest of you have gotten, but I would really appreciate any information you can spare.

[A big sigh here, and her hand massages her temples for a moment. MAN but does she look pissed all of the sudden.] I can't believe these people would stoop to kidnapping children and civilians, nevermind the entire scheme is disgusting to begin with.

Look. My name is Aileen Kimbler, I'm a doctor. I'm not a solider, and regardless of what this Initiative wants I’ll have no hand in the death of anyone here unless it’s in the interest of preventing it. I don't believe in war, but I'm good at my job for a reason.
If there's a hospital or infirmary of some sort, I'll do everything I can to help out there.

[Looks like she managed to calm down a bit halfway through all that, and her expression shifts to something gentle and worried.]

Please, don't hesitate to contact me if you're hurt.

[She reaches for the off button, but stops. Frowning and glancing left and right before pulling the netbook a little closer. The corner of her mouth perks up as she fights a smile, her nose crinkles and she casually brushes a piece of hair into view, drawing attention to it.] And um, just curious, but... How many of you believe in magic?

If so, I'm happy to say: You're not alone.

[The sight that appears on your device's screens is that of a wall of smoke, and hopefully you had the speakers turned down because the fire alarms they use here aren't exactly pleasant on the ears. For a minute that's all there is, smoke obscuring vague shapes and the sound of the alarm screeching its head off, but if you stick with it you soon see a shape start moving in through the black clouds, the sound of coughing audible under the alarm. Finally, Reya emerges from the smoke, her hand over her mouth.]

Enough!

[She gestures and shoots two little red orbs off in different directions. There's a loud crack and the sound of glass breaking, and suddenly the alarm disintegrates into static, and the smoke starts to lessen, just slightly. A gust of magically conjured wind speeds it along.]

May Ithilids starve themselves on the brains of whatever sadist designed these infernal machines!

[She turns back to the camera, wiping soot from her cheek.]

I'm certain the one who wrote the instructions on the back of our food is either long dead or not very concerned with my plight, but I would like to inform those providing it that not every world uses whatever absurd system you people have for measuring the passage of time.

[Coughing as she tries to take a calming breath]

Since I find myself with the choice of continually risking burning down my residence, starvation, or throwing myself upon the kindness of others, I am hoping some among you might be willing to explain 'minutes' and 'seconds' to me, as well as the proper use of this 'mi-crow-wave' device?

Also, to those living with me, I apologize for the mess, [She glances over her shoulder] and the window. I'll clean it up as soon as I'm able.

[OOC: Basically, Reya tried to use the microwave, and coming from a world where time measurement is based on people's best guess she made a botch job of it. Roommates feel free to action tag]

[After about an hour spent fiddling with it, Lance has finally made his netbook do something productive.]

So, from what I understand, we're here to fight some war that we have nothing to do with. How has that worked out so far, hmm? It seems a bit counter productive to me when you steal people away from their homes.

Anyway, I happen to have a... gift for ripping holes in the fabric of worlds. Quite convenient when one wants to get from one place to another quickly. Worlds included.
If any of you people are feeling particularly brave or adventurous, I could be persuaded to open one of those holes for you. Now, I don't guarantee success or, that you will come out in one piece.

[S'up Exsilium, resident fishdouche at your service.]

Two things. Firstly, this whole We-R bullshit experience has at least taught me somethin'; I'm startin' to really tell why exactly it's such a big deal people keep goin' on about how much some a' you suck at this war thing. Kinda puts us who got firsthand experience at a disadwantage tryin' a sawe your asses.

So I wanna get an idea a' who here can pull their own weight. What's the most impressiwe thing you'we ewer done combat wise? I'll start us off. I conquered a planet of Angels once then killed the whole lot of 'em.

Your turn, initiatiwe.

...

Also, for those a' you more inclined in the field of wipin' out that which was once thought of as fictional, here's another question.

How the fuck do you kill a Rainbow drin-...uh, wampire. And for all a' you smartasses out there, yes, I mean-

[Suddenly text!]

VAMPIRES.

[Whoever is in possession of this netbook has absolutely no idea what they're doing, given the fact that the network will get a very nice shot of a pair of purple shoes, wrapped in some strange hide. Everyone will hear her voice before she properly is able to situate the device she's fiddling with. Her accent is nearly impossible to place, unless you've had the misfortune of hearing a old-english woman attempt to hide her accent.]

Great big useless thing--

[Another dizzying turn of the camera and it goes upright, giving a nice shot over the woman's shoulder -- some red hair enters the picture, and she's very clearly human at least.]

Honestly, even goblin gadgets are simpler than--ah.

[THERE WE GO. She finally gets it upright and is squinting into the lens. The woman is a bit unkempt with freckles on her face and bright green eyes to accompany her fiery red hair.]

Good evening. Ah--this thing is on, yes? That's what the little light is for? Nevermind. Something about a war? Bloodshed, ruin, all that rubbish?

[A gentle sigh.]

I suppose its true when they say there is no such thing as utopia, hm?

[OOC: lacking human icons atm, sorry.]

 [When the feed starts, the netbook's camera shows you a view of the forest floor.  A deer carcass lies among the grass and twigs, and it's obvious that the poor thing did not have a clean death.  It's in the advanced stages of decomposition, even though the blood around its body is red and fresh.  The camera does not linger on this image for more than a few seconds; it pans upward, to show Koltira's face.

 He's standing over the deer, holding the device in one hand, holding Byfrost with the other.  Agony creases his expression: his jaw is clenched, his eyes narrowed, every muscle in his pale, sallow face is taut with pain.  The guttural growl of his voice occasionally rises in octave as he talks, as though something is beating the shit out of him from the inside.]

Were we brought here to fight for something, or to waste time reliving the past?  Send.  Us.  On.  A mission.

[He stabs the tree next to him with Byfrost, and the sword glows sickly green; the tree bark begins to decay rapidly, as though it's practically melting.  Diseased fumes pour out of the bark, forming a nasty miasma around Koltira's body.]

I need a battle. [he hisses, and blood trickles from the corner of his mouth as he bites down on the inside of his cheek.]  Now.

[The video clicks on to a claustrophobic view of what appears to be dark fabric, then abruptly shifts, tipping upwards to reveal a scowling man looking like he's seen (much) better days. Judging from the angle, the netbook is being propped up on his knee with one hand while he sits reclined against a wall; the other hand is pressed firmly to his stomach. It quickly becomes clear that the fabric isn't dark - it's just covered in blood, both beneath his hand and again at his left shoulder. His face is similarly accented by a few cuts and bruises, not to mention a fair amount of dirt.]

Testing, testing- [A strong English accent, interrupted by a cough.] I don't know what the hell this is about, but I'm guessing it's not heaven. Either way, I'd like to stick around long enough to find out. The odd woman said I could get assistance on this thing - so here I am, calling for assistance.

Can I get a sodding doctor over here?

[Long time no speak, Exsilium.

Johanna's clicking on the voice feed to ask an important question. For those of you who have spoken to her before, you can tell her tone is lacking its usual bite, colored by exhaustion.]

We got any useful people with powers out there? Ones that aren't all talk and whine.

[There's a scratching sound and an lengthy yawn.]

This rain has gone on long enough.

[The feed shows you a grim, sallow face with glowing blue eyes, greyish skin, and long, pointed ears. His hair is long and white, and his body is covered in black plate armor. He is also bleeding, green and viscous, from the throat. The hilt of a sword--itself glowing--is visible in his other hand. He's standing on a sidewalk somewhere, apparently unperturbed by any passing foot traffic or the general noises of a city at night. When he speaks, his gruff voice echoes slightly, a minor hiss that's obviously unnatural.]

My name is Koltira Deathweaver, knight of the Ebon Blade. Know this: I will not blindly suffer the yoke of enslavement again. But if you bring me the battles, I will bring you the war.