[Anduin's voice is once more quiet and lightly tinged with a well-composed disappointment. He had perhaps been a bit too-focused on finding a sembalnce of normalcy lately, and now...]

May Aunt Jaina find peace ...or at the very least the strength to ...get herself through what is to come.

[Because he knows what lies ahead for the departed Mage and feels nothing but sadness for it. More than the loneliness of an empty home, more than his homesickness and desire to see his father once more - this is still perhaps worse. The knowledge of what lay ahead for Jaina very soon now that she had gone home was heartbreaking. He sighs softly, the weariness creeping into his tone.]

Ah- tell me, what do you do when you have trouble sleeping?

Seems like a lot of people want to know about time travel - which, given the objectives here, isn't all that surprising. I'm not a mathematician or a physicist - if you want the grounding in temporal mechanics, you're better off asking someone else. I am a time-traveller, though, long before I ever came here. I've timeslid enough to have lost count of the number of times. So while I can't tell you the science, I can tell you the practicalities.

People who don't deal with this sort of thing generally have one of two concepts of how time works. One is that time is perfectly linear and immutable. If you go back and time and change something, you will have always gone back in time in changed it, and therefore nothing has actually changed. It will have always already happened. The other view is that every choice splits the universe, into an infinite multitude of realities in which every choice has happened at least once.

The reality, from what I've learned of the mechanics, and what I've experienced, is somewhere inbetween. What the Initiative seeks to do - it's entirely possible, given the right skills. There are nexus points in time, moments that are important whether or not they seem so at the time. History hinges on those moments, and so does the timestream. If a moment is uncertain enough, two different futures will exist for the same timeline simultaneously - call it timeline 1, futures a and b. 1a and 1b will exist in phase until the nexus point snaps into certainty, at which point one will become the future of timeline 1, and the other will become a different reality, timeline 2. Or something else happens entirely, if things are uncertain enough, and both futures break off into timelines 2 and 3, and something else becomes the future of timeline 1.

I don't know anyone who's actually tried to carry out the grandfather paradox, though I assume if you did, you'd strand yourself in a timeline that was no longer your 'native' one - your reality would continue on without you while you're stuck in the other one.

And, I suppose, the one piece of advice I can give - if all of this seems overwhelming, it's simplest to think of things in terms of your own personal timeline, the chronology you've experienced. Which may be out of order with what people around you experience, but it's easier to keep straight that way. And even if you experienced things in a timeline that later - from your point of view - was broken off and orphaned, that doesn't make those experiences any less real.

[Aaaand now you are free to ask questions, even if he forgot to actually invite them. He's not really a teacher, okay]

[Elissa's one of those people who still hasn't conformed to the more modern way of dressing. Her tunic is loose and her leggings are worn, still the ones she's had from home. Her tone is thoughtful when she begins to speak.]

We lose people so often here that it's rather staggering. They say they wish to build an army but I often wonder if the Initiative isn't grasping at straws in their attempts to keep us here. I've seen strong warriors come and go, some more than once. I cannot tell if I'm grateful at the idea that their control over our presence is slipping or if we should be worried about what the future may bring. After all, we still do not know if we are returned home when we depart from this world.

[If she seems fearful of the notion, she doesn't show it.]

But we still lose valuable friends and allies just the same. Many, too, will leave this world only to lose their lives. However the Initiative has managed it, they have brought people back from the dead, and they will probably perish once they disappear.

[That is enough to make her frown.] There's little we can do, unfortunately. But I believe someone mentioned wanting to build a memorial before, something to honor those who have left us one way or another. I'll...admit wanting to start such a project if it hasn't been created already, though I have little idea of where to begin. Suggestions would be welcome.

[Otherwise, she can only privately mourn fallen friends and departed allies in her own way, and she's not interested in just moping.]

( filtered to zevran )

Please tell me things like body swapping don't happen often.

[because she's not sure if she could handle magic and powers again.]

[ Video as usual. One of these days Anders ought to take a typing class and advance beyond two-fingered typing. ]

So we're back to ourselves, yes? Another bout of our hosts' incompetence survived. I have to say I'm proud of us as a community for placing responsibility where it belongs, and not jumping to conclusions. I haven't seen or heard anyone blaming mages for what happened.

On a happier note, I've learned that today people are supposed to eat pie, in honor of mathematics. Anyone up for a potluck? I'm no mathematician, mind. I just happen to think pie is always worth celebrating.

By way of some odd notes about feet, it's come to my attention that yesterday was some sort of a sex holiday. That is, a holiday about sex, not a holiday from sex.

This morning, then, would be the morning after.

In a week or two, you should know whether you've picked up any unpleasant souvenirs of the holiday. Please see the attached document for some information on the subject, unless you are a small child.

[ ATTACHMENT: HELPFULINFORMATION. It's a comic entitled "Capt. Veedee-o and Ms. Wanda Lust in VD CLAPTRAP." Anders doesn't know to mark it not-safe-for-work. This is his work! ]

If you are a small child, you don't know what I'm talking about, and that's as it should be. You ought to go do something fun that doesn't involve listening to grown-ups discuss boring things on the network. Run around! Do you know how wonderful it is that you've got the freedom to run around outdoors whenever you like? I'm telling you, you really ought to take advantage of that. Don't take those freedoms for granted.

If you're a healer or a doctor of any sort, and you are not a small child, the transport clinic could probably use your help. The coming month may bring an explosion of nasty rashes or worse. Contact me, or our co-director Ashraf Salib, or Adrasteius who doesn't want to have a title. We'll put you to work, whatever it is you do.

Oh, and since Merrill's gone home ... [he won't admit he misses her, but: ] I suppose we could also use a receptionist. That's what it's called, yes? We didn't need receptionists at my clinic in Kirkwall. People would just come right in shouting about their wounds, and I'd see to them eventually, when I wasn't hands-deep in something else. Apparently having more than one healer in this Transport clinic means we need to be better-organized, therefore having someone in the front room is nice and useful.

Wherever I go, I endeavor to remember where I came from. My people celebrate the Lunar Festival around this time of year. It is to honor our ancestors.

...I had been hoping to celebrate this at home, with my family. It would be my first Lunar Festival with my new son. [Her voice isn't exactly annoyed per se, but perhaps a bit...inconvenienced. She's not one to blame people, but she would prefer to be home, Initiative! It kinda sucks a little.] It is important for him to learn about his new family's history.

[There's a long pause.]

...I see that the people of this city also have a holiday this week. It seems to be about something completely different from my festival, but there are fireworks. I suppose I can pretend they are for my holiday as well, yes? [Her voice a little lighter now. Might as well try to get a positive spin on things, right?] Happy Lunar Festival, friends.

[ Here's an unusually solemn new face. Ashraf looks a little shorter, a little more gangly, and with less wear and tear. He's traded out his swank priest robes for a nice tan dress-looking ensamble, too. After some initial juggling he stares straight into the camera, takes a breath, and speaks very carefully. ]

I understand that… some of you will recognize me. To those that don't, or have forgotten me, my name is Ashraf Salib, an acolyte. [ A pause, and there's a rustle of paper as he glances down at something in his hands. A note? ] …That is to say, I am a healer. Please make use of that, if you need it.

I've been instructed to tell this network that any children that are unsure of where to go or what to do may come to the clinic for care. There are a lot of people who are currently their wrong ages, I think? Well — you will find safe haven at the clinic.

[ YES HE DID IT, HE WAS PROFESSIONAL AND EVERYTHING. He looks a little nervously relieved as he hurries to kill the feed again.

Then a few minutes later (it takes him a while to figure this thing out ok), some ( private messages! )

I remember this place... though I can't remember if it was real, or just a dream from the Fade. Or perhaps the work of a demon.

[He shakes his head, scowling a little.]

That is a puzzle for another time, I think.

There are people from my own world here, as well. One of them is someone I've been seeking for a long time: Elissa Cousland. If you know of her I suggest you tell me where I can find her as soon as possible.

We have some... unfinished business to take care of. [That doesn't sound ominous at all.]



[OOC: For anyone familiar with the Dragon Age canon, Nathaniel is being taken from just before the beginning of Awakening, en route to Vigil's Keep.

For anyone else, the key factor is that Nathaniel is very, very pissed, and not likely to be as level-headed or rational as some might remember him to be.]

Blood from a bloodpack tastes so foul. I don't suppose anyone would be willing to... donate, some of their own?

I promise, I'll be quite gentle.

[ Think that message was weird? Here's something even weirder: There is zero background noise in this message. No static, no voices, no wind. Nothing. Begging the question of where he is. ]

For those of you who may not know me, I’m Nathaniel Howe, one of the newly promoted sergeants of the transport section of the Exsilium city watch. I will do my best to protect the citizens and the transports, and offer my services whenever needed.

However, there is something much more important that I need to discuss. I and my fellow Grey Warden Duncan have just returned from a brief reconnaissance excursion in United Earth territory. We weren’t able to glean very much new information regarding our enemy, but we did procure this:

[Nathaniel holds up a small vial--approximately half the size of a standard test-tube--filled with some unknown liquid]

We found this on one of the citizens of the United Earth, and we have great reason to believe that it contains the drug that is being used to keep the citizens docile, and to prevent them from rising up against their leaders.

Unfortunately, neither Duncan nor myself has been able to determine what exactly is contained in the solution. We are, of course, sharing what we’ve found with the Initiative, but I am also calling on my fellow transports to see if there is anyone who has the knowledge or means to possibly determine what ingredients are in the drug, and to hopefully find an antidote.

If you are interested in helping, please let me know. I’m also willing to answer whatever questions anyone might have about what we learned.

( OOC INFO behind the cut )

[A young boy appears on the screen, a serious expression and huge bug-eye goggles on his face. He gives a curt salute to the camera.]

Greetings, fellow transports! Allow me to introduce myself! Ace Psychonaut Agent Razputin Aquato here, reporting for duty!

[He lifts the goggles up on his aviator's cap, then grins.] But you guys can call me Raz!

[He inches closer to the screen, his hands balled up in fists with anticipation.] So, I have a question. Do we really get to time travel? 'Cause that sounds SO COOL. SO. COOL. Have you guys ever seen a dinosaur? How about met your great-great-great-great grandmother? Can we go back in time and hang out with famous people? Or is that against the time rules? Lemme guess, we're not allowed to go back and meet our past selves because that would wipe out time forward and backwards, wouldn't it?

[It's like everything this kid knows about time travel he learned from comic books. Oh wait.]

[ 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.

[A gorgeous blond elf stands in front of the Initiate Hold, wearing his leather-skirted armor and splattered with blood. At least it all seems to be someone else's.] ...Hmm, this place again, is it? I was just thinking how terribly dull it was, fighting in a strange land, and how I'd very much like to take a sabbatical and fight in an entirely different strange land. [A small laugh.]

I don't believe I ever actually introduced myself before. I'm Zevran Arainai, formerly of the Antivan Crows. [He does a small, but the theatrical bow toward the camera.] I'm sure we're all going to get along famously.

And Elissa, my friend, if you are still here - I believe I owe you a drink. [A pause, and he seems very nearly to falter, as he adds, softly - ] Or ten.

[The video comes on to show a young man seeming a bit overwhelmed. He speaks almost as if to himself; it's obvious that he's unused to devices like the tablet, if not technology overall.]

This seems so much like a dream, but I'm sure I'm awake.

I confess I don't completely understand what's going on. But if I understood correctly, there is war, or the threat of it, here as well. I don't know that I'll be much use.

[He pauses, adjusts the tablet. When he speaks again he sounds more focused.]

Forgive me, I neglected to introduce myself. My name is Saemus.

[ Something isn't right-- no, something hasn't been right, and she should have known. If only she hadn't been so busy with her own tasks. But not long after the outbreak starts and a commotion goes up, she know. She is no stranger to this particular brand of undeath. When Alexstrasza addresses the network, her voice is level, her tone stern, but her face shows an undercurrent of disappointment, failure, and concern. ]

Transports of Exsilium, the creatures you have so graciously taken into your homes as of a few days ago are not what they appear. If they have not already, they will be begin to act strangely and become increasingly more ill, until they pass on and mutate into what many of them have already become: put simply, undead.

It pains me to say there is very little that can be done for them, save to spare them their suffering. Avoid being bitten at all costs, and be cautious of what you eat or drink. If you have already been bitten, then you will be subject to the same fate, if you do not find a holy healer as soon as humanly possible. Even then...

To the priests and holy magic users of Exsilium, I implore you, help your fellows. If you find yourself tired, come see me at the clinic and I will aid you in whatever way I can. I will be doing everything I can to create a shelter there for anyone who seeks refuge or may be in need of healing.

[ She looks like she might say something more, but cuts the feed abruptly. ]

[[ ooc: anyone who comes by the clinic will find at LEAST one very large red dragon hovering overhead. Feel free to hit me up via pm if you want to arrange anything or if I have stepped on any toes. ]]

[This is a short video post from a ponytailed guy in a white lab coat. Someone must have convinced him not to wear the Black Feathery Coat of Revolutionary Doom while working in the clinic.]

The clinic staff is down by a few. Possibly lucky for them, if it means they've gone home, but not so lucky for us. With the conscript -- pardon me, the "transport" population growing in number, we'll need more healers and medics. Not only for the clinic itself. We're also the people who patch you up when all of us get rounded up and sent into battle for the Initiative.

We're a fairly friendly lot, and we're not picky about credentials, as there's hardly a universal standard to go by. I'm a mage and a healer; the fellow who runs the clinic with me, Ashraf Salib, is also a healer. We've also got doctors who use technology rather than magic. And we're happy to teach those who are interested in learning, whatever talents you may bring to the table.

What we don't have at all is a person who specializes in teeth. Did you know how profoundly the condition of your teeth and gums can affect your health? I'll freely confess I didn't. I do now.

Also, we haven't got any psychologists. [The word is a somewhat recent addition to Anders' vocabulary -- in the past month or two, he's learned a little about the subject, enough to know he has no idea what it involves.] That's something many of us could probably use, given the pleasant tasks the Initiative likes to set us from time to time.

I'll say this now, because you might be wondering: We don't report your condition to the Initiative. We don't report your visits, or your diagnosis. That's the difference between us and the Initiative hospital: we've got no interest in tracking or managing you.

We do what we like with what they've given us. But the supplies do come from the Initiative. So did the training in what devices weren't already familiar to our staff, things that originate in this world rather than the ones we're from. And yes, it is not outside the realm of possibility that they've put some surveillance in place. The same principle applies to this network, and to the apartments most of us live in, and to everything else in this city. It's best not to delude ourselves on that score.

But, then, if you're seeing this message, you're using the network, and you've already accepted that inevitability. [He's rambling a little now...] Anyhow. Yes. Reply to me, or send a note to Ashraf Salib, or drop by, or whatever you like.


[[ OOC NOTE: The sign-ups and directory for the clinic are in this post. ]]

[ A huge, armored, figure resolves on the feed, eye slits scarlet and seemingly glowering at the world it surveys. A filtered, though deep voice, somewhere between human and inhuman, rumbles from the grilled front of the helm. ]

I am Priad of Ithaka. Some of you know me, some of you don't. I have a few questions, and will try not to waste your time.

Question the first: Who here has actual military experience, either as soldiers or knights?

Question the second: Who here has experience as enforcers of the law, whether it be the Lex Imperia or something less absolute?

Question the Third: Has anyone here fought as some sort of irregular resistance force?

That is all.

[ The feed is cut off suddenly, at a motion from a giant armored hand. ]

[ A FEW MINUTES AFTER THIS THREAD. Leliana's voice is shaky and her accent heavier than usual, too much anger bubbling inside her. ]

Anders! Where are you, you fiend?

I can't believe I thought you were a good man. You were one of Elissa's friends, for Andraste's sake! To find out this out from someone else while you walk around like you didn't... you didn't...

The blood of Kirkwall's grand cleric is in your hands. Grand Cleric Elthina! How could you murder one of the holiest people in Thedas!? What have you to gain!?

[ ANDERS BRO GET YOUR ASS IN HERE BEFORE SHE HUNTS YOU DOWN HERSELF ]

[ ooc: I am so sorry for spamming! Important development that can't be delayed and stuff. ]

Oh! Andaran atish’an! This is such an interesting way to talk to people, don't you think? I can see your face and you can see mine! It's like a mirror, but it reflects other people back at you.

[Merrill waves, smiling broadly, her large eyes sparkling with delight.]

My name is Merrill, and I'm looking for my friends. I appear to be a little lost. [She swings the tablet around too fast to really see anything useful. Just a lot of stone.] Did you see that? I'm lost. But I have friends who can help me become, ah, not lost.

Sometimes, when I was lost in Kirkwall, Isabela - she's one of my friends - would swoop down from the top of a building and tell me where to go. She's very pretty, with dark hair and a lovely blue bandana. Oh, and a necklace. It's quite hard to miss her necklace and what's below it. And there's Aveline, but sometimes I worry she doesn't like me. She has red hair, like the sun, and quite a lot of freckles. I like her freckles. I wish I had freckles... [Merrill trails off, tapping her fingers against her cheeks as if counting freckles. She comes back to herself suddenly.] I'm sorry, I tend to get lost in my thoughts. I think that's how I ended up here. Do you ever do that? You start thinking and then you just don't come out. What was I saying before?

Oh, yes, my friends! I have quite a few of them. Isabela and Aveline and Varric! Varric is a dwarf, and he's very funny, but his stories aren't always true. He tells me stories about pirates, but Isabela says they're mostly made up. And Fenris, he's elvhen, like me, but--that's not going to be trouble, is it? In Kirkwall, they make us live in alienages, and they're very dirty. I had a nice house, but it was very small. No one in Thedas seems to like the elvhen very much, and living in the alienage is very uncomfortable...

[She stares past the tablet screen for a moment, thoughtful.] I hope there aren't any alienages here...

If you know my friends, would you tell them I'm looking for them? Ma serannas for your troubles. Or, if you recognize this place-- [She ducks out of the frame, an alleyway filling the screen for a few seconds before she fumbles the tablet and then drops it. Merrill's face pops into the frame again, a worried expression on it.] Oh, dear, I hope I haven't broken you...

[ooc: Feel free to engage the very lost Merrill in actiony posts. As a Dalish elf, she tends to speak in the elvhen language frequently. You can hover over the text with your mouse to get a translation!]

[ who is ready for a nice, big helping of complaining? i hope you are, exsilium, because shadow has plenty of it go to around!!! ]

The network seems to be mainly full of jesting and levity. I awaken to seek new information, yet all I come to find are drunkard jokes, obvious attempts at mind control veiled by a need for 'help', needless stammering over the new technology, etcetera.

[ yep spelling out etc. instead of abbreviating it. that so makes him edgier than all of you! clearly! ]

You are all fools, treating this situation lightly. If you are as hellbent on leaving as per the usual transport tendencies, you will stop at nothing until you are freed. Instead, you bumble about without a care, as if playing and chortling will get you somewhere.

I will give you all a vital hint. Heed my words:

It won't.

[ golly. who peed in his frosted flakes this morning? ]

Apparently there's something called psychology. And applying it is tricky, because of cultural differences, and such. Yes?

If there's one thing we have in abundance, it's cultural difference. So it might not be so simple to offer psychological help at our clinic.

That doesn't mean we shouldn't try.

But an incompetent healer can cause damage, or exacerbate it, and that's the last thing I want.

So. [The preamble having been finished, he leans back in his chair.] Exsilium network. Tell me what psychology entails in your world. The idea of it, and also the practice of it. If your world has that, or something like it, I mean, and doesn't just chalk it all up to demons.

[ The feed turns on. Leliana looks closely at the notebook and waves her hand in front of the video feed. It mirrors her movements. There are other people in other windows and they are all watching her! She wonders if this is what the other side of the mirror feels like. ]

This… communication device is so interesting! Is it some sort of, um, ancient magic? I don’t know much about those, I am afraid, but it is certainly useful, no?

This place is really grand. I don’t think I have ever been anywhere like here. Not in Ferelden. Not in Orlais. Not in Orzammar. I am sure these walls and windows have a lot of stories to tell, and these grand spaces have a lot of adventure to uncover. [She giggles.] I am going to find out, soon enough.

I still can’t believe I’m here! I can’t tell if I’m dead or if I’m dreaming. I hope nobody pinches me awake soon, at least.

Oh. But I have certainly babbled enough, I think. I am Leliana! It’s a pleasure to meet all of you!

[ ooc: psst, mods, it's Leliana not Lelania in the tags. :D ]

I have not been in this time for very long but I've been feeling out of place these past few weeks, not simply because of my surroundings but because of the technology here. I'm curious of the more advanced weaponry that people use now. More importantly, that there are so many who know how to use them with relative ease.

[As a commander, it makes her feel disadvantaged, especially since most of these weapons are so much more powerful than a simple sword and shield.]

If anyone would be willing, I would like to learn how to use these weapons or, better yet, to be able to defend myself from them. Should one of these missions send me to a time after my own, I'd be in quite a bit of trouble. [She smiles.] I can't offer anything in return but my gratitude, though I can teach you swordplay, if you would like. Or, if you would prefer, I know how to make traps and poultices.

[Her smile turns into a full-fledged smirk.]

And for those who are ambitious, I could show you how to steal valuables off of a passerby without them ever noticing they're missing their purse.

[Once a rogue, always a rogue. Sorry, kids.]


( Filter to the Grey Wardens )

Well, it's not much, but at least there's some direction. And it gets you away from the things going down in your... world for awhile.

[Yeah, the whole 'world' thing is a pretty new concept. Not quite sure how he feels about that one.

And really, not that he's generally one to look on the bright side- but where Isaac comes from, getting away from his world means getting away from the 99% of the population that seemed to want to kill him at any given moment. And with the added bonus of the whole missing-slash-fugitive status gone? It's enough to at least give this place the benefit of a doubt.]

So I got the official story- what's it actually like here?

[Simple, a little bit demanding.]

Anyone?

It looks like the indignant rage thing is pretty much covered on this one, so I'll spare you all of that.

I really just have one, big, and potentially day-ruining question.

I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't exactly keep a personal diary of harrowing mental experiences lying around. They have access to our memories. Good access. Access good enough that they could throw us into them without permission.

Naturally this is leading to a healthy suspicion aimed primarily towards all the new goodies we're getting from the supposed La Resistance.

They can get into our memories, I don't think it's that big of a leap to think everything else in our brains is at stake, do you?

[The video feed sparks to life as Chloe taps repeatedly at the screen, offering the net a view of a woman with shoulder-length dark hair and bright eyes, wearing a stylish biking jacket and a few layers of leather necklaces with various little charms hanging from their ends. The city's skyline is visible behind her from a particularly high vantage point, and it's likely that she's found herself a resting place somewhere atop the roof of one of the taller buildings. She wiggles a few fingers lazily in greeting before speaking up with a distinctly Australian accent.]

Evening, everyone. Chloe here. New arrival, in case you haven't noticed. All right, somewhat new. Got dragged into this mess a few days ago and decided to take my time getting settled; never know what's out there if you don't bother to look first.

I was a treasure hunter back home-- one of the best in the business, I might add. Problem is I'm getting the impression that there's not much treasure to be found here on Alcatraz, and I'd prefer to stay sharp while things are relatively quiet. So here's the deal: if you need something of value-- for a price-- I'm more than happy to lend a well-trained hand and fetch it for you.

[She moves to shut the call down before adding, thoughtfully]

And in the meantime, if anyone out there knows a place that serves good drinks, I'm all ears. After all this I could sure as hell use one.  

[Having determined the netbook is capable of a video feed, Henry makes certain to broadcast only his voice when he reaches out to the network; given the effect his condition has on reflections and even digital images, presenting an empty backdrop for no apparent reason is not the way he'd like to initiate first impressions. With the channel open, there's the clearing of a throat, then:]

And thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges. I suppose it's about time fate doomed me to fight another man's war, eh? The Devil knows I've been asking for it. But it begs the question... What did the lot of you do to deserve it?

[The accent is unmistakably English, though a sharp ear might infer he hasn't been among Englishmen for some time.]

Look, I can’t say I’m exactly pleased about being brought here -- wherever the hell “here” actually is -- but I’m not going to complain too much. Yet. I mean, the alternative was getting eaten by a bunch of zombies, which believe me, was not high on my “to do” list.

The problem I have is being asked to fight in a war that I’m pretty sure I’m not going to be giving a shit about. I look after only one person: me. Just make sure you remember that.

Oh yeah, anyone happen to know of a decent tailor around here?

Who do I see for medicine?

[ The feed flickers on to show a young man adjusting the angle, having clearly propped the device against something, before running long fingers through blonde curls and pushing out a breath - a clear sign of irritation. Though his face might look familiar to some. ] Right, so am seriously expected to believe the utter rubbish some woman in purple - who's clearly a bit delusional, by the way - told me about this place?

[ There's a grimace crossing his sharp features, and a brow lifts. He's clearly skeptical, cynical even, as gears turn to make any sense of this. ] So, let me see if I'm getting all this right: assuming it was possible - which it's not - but assuming it was, I was somehow thrown over a thousand years forward into what year? 3312? Given a weapon and now am - what? Expected to fight in some war, is that it?

[ A glare. ] I'm sorry, but that's really not how it works.

[ He's sighing again, but it's more clearly resembling a frustrated growl as he pinches the bridge of his nose momentarily, gaze flickering back to the screen. ] This is just. Unbelievable. I can't - I need to get back to Ystad. I have cases to handle, I can't be here, wasting my time in this sh-

[ He cuts himself off; he didn't have anything nice to say anyway. ] Look. If anyone can actually tell me how I could get back or anything actually helpful, that would be, you know, great.

[ And there's a click, and the video ends. ]

[... or at least it should be video. There's something blocking the lens that shifts slightly as he starts speaking, letting brief ridges of light seep through.]

Hello? Is this thing on? Am I just talking to myself? I’m finally going crazy, that’s it, right?

Either I’m crazy or I’m unconscious or I’m on drugs, because I can’t actually be here. This is like, Tron and Back to the Future at the same time. I can barely follow those plots when they’re separate! This is a dream, this is a… oh hey, this is a video.

[The finger blocking the lens moves, revealing a dark-haired teenager wearing an almost humorously anxious expression. It’s clear he hasn’t convinced himself that this is all in his imagination, and is growing increasingly worried.]

I guess I’ll just... wait here for a while until I wake up.

[He manages to sit still and wait maybe ten seconds, glancing absently around the room. Once his eyes return to the device, it's abruptly flipped and given a nice view of one wall as he inspects it.]

Seriously though, this thing is broadcasting, right?

  Oh, bugger me.

[Hello, network. That little statement is followed by a serious case of shaky cam as the comm is literally shaken a bit at various angles. You know. Just in case this is a defective portkey in disguise or something.]

Heard rumors about a hidden swimming pool in the dungeons- bunch of bunk that was- but I’d have sworn on Merlin’s double-cursed split-ends we’d found every hidden nook in the school. Now- now I find a...what? A time door? A space portal? The bleeding future? And not even proper magic to it. No way. Stumbling in on strange, impossible places is more the terrific trio’s area.

[The camera goes blurry again as George tosses the camera in the air and catches it with a disbelieving exhale of breath. The door to his new room is momentarily visible in the blur. Looks like he's at least managed to make it that far.

When he talks again his voice is softer.]

Blimey. S’no fun exploring alone. 

[[ooc: George is about to head into the door to his room while he chats. If either of his roommates or anyone else outside the living area want to jump in with action, that is super cool with me]]

Right. Let's try this again.

A colleague of mine has attempted to help her fellow conscripts by forming some ... working groups, let's call it. Battle parties. People who can rely on one another in combat, if we've trained together long enough, if we find we're compatible and balanced.

This isn't exactly a radical idea. We could just go into battle a completely incoherent mess, as we did in Assyria. Those of you who fought that battle for our captors will remember. War is never pretty, no, but it can be waged with some semblance of planning. You know, because some of us would like to keep on living.

Now, if you're among those who have been conscripted into this Initiative's war from a world they seem especially to enjoy ransacking for soldiers, and you've got a ready-made unit, cheers. We don't need to talk further. Not at this point, anyhow. You might want to have your leader talk to spokespersons from other groups, at some point. Just to be neighborly, yes? So we've got some idea what we're going into, together.

What I'd like to see now is some framework for sorting the lone warriors in. And the lone mages, and the lone rogues, and the specializations I've never even seen up to now. And the pairs who've come from a world the Initiative hasn't quite tapped into, yet, and know they want to stay together, but also know it can't be just the two of them against the enemy hordes.

If that describes you, drop me a line.

[Additional messages go out to:

Tatsumi Kanji
Roslyn Small
Bariyan what's your last name BARIYAN E KODHI
Dean Winchester
Orihime Inoue
Danny Williams
Yuki Terumi]

( additional messages so I don't need to blow up Alex's inbox I mean spam Fiona's post )

[There's a certain dog snuffling at the communicator when it turns on. In fact, his nose actually turns the device off and onto audio for several moments, the sound of his heavy breathing filling the microphone.]

Off, you lush. I need that.

[The mic is covered by something - fabric, actually, in an attempt to clean off the device - and then it switches back to video. A woman with red hair can be seen looking over the communicator critically, looking for scratches and cracks. The dog is gone and she settles back. It's easy from this angle to see the Warden-Commander's crest on her armor, even if it's partly covered by a curtain of hair.]

I wish to speak to whomever's in charge of bringing recruits here. They have no authority to conscript a Warden in any way, not without first making an appeal to Weisshaupt. If I cannot have an audience with the leader of this outpost - [or whatever it is] - then I would speak with anyone else who carries a position of authority.

[She knows her stuff, clearly. She frowns into the camera, tapping it once. She sighs, glancing at her dog. The commanding aura nearly vanishes, replaced by exasperation.]

...I'm speaking to myself, aren't I?

[Elissa glances back to the device, fussing with it once more. It turns off.]

[ Hello, denizens of Exsilium. Someone finally figured out how to turn their device on. Not well, mind you- but hey! Turning it on is an improvement over staring at it and losing it, right? At first, there's only blackness and a tiny sliver of changing coloured light in the top left corner. In the background, the low buzzing noise of busy chatter can be heard; voices indistinct. ] Is this thing on?

[ It takes him a few more moments to realize his thumb is covering the camera, but when he does, his smile fills the screen, an almost, but not quite smug expression upon his features. ] I spent a few days wandering around aimlessly- [ Read: Lost. ] -and I was beginning to think that maybe all the whining was justified.

[ He looks away a moment, over at something unseen. ]

But then I found this place. And you know what? It's not all bad.

[ This is followed by several very feminine giggles in the background, and Garrett chuckles lowly. He murmurs something indistinct to whomever is with him off camera, before he cuts the feed. ]

[HOLD EVERYTHING

STOP THE PRESSES

ERIDAN HAS SOMETHING IMPORTANT TO ANNOUNCE]

For those of you unawware of troll culture, wwell, lets face it that's almost all of you. In fact the only ones wwho can appreciate this fully are...twwo of you I guess, since the third one knowws wwhat this is about already, but I'm in a generous mood. I'll explain.

First off I'd like to say that to those of you wwho label me an undesirable troll, I say ha.

Also fuck you.

For you see I just got myself a kismesis. An' before you bastards ask, yes he agreed to it. I'll fuckin' provve it if I havve to.

To those a you not in the knoww, this makes us troll boyfriends, only there's more hate goin' on. Kinda like havvin' a deadly an' vviolent rivvalry but wwith makin' out invvolvved.

[Oh and he grins here.]

An' he's not half-bad at that, if I say so myself.

That's all. You can go back to your livves noww.

[Yep. Make of it what you will initiative, this here is one desperate motherfucker.]