So for those of you that don't know, I have a bag that's bigger inside than out, and no matter what weighs ten pounds.

If there's things that are on the must-take list that isn't possible for you to take with the weight allowance - musical instruments, ammunition, weird medical supplies - let me know. I've got room for about a hundred pounds in the bag, and I can carry ninety more with me.

Medical supplies, to be honest, are more important, followed by food, ammunition, and then other things.

[ If he doesn't need this bad right now, come five to six days from now he's really going to need it. ]

Alcohol. They carry any of it here?

[There's been a tremendous spike in patients recently, and the influx is only worsening as the days pass. The clinic doesn't have a robust staff as it is, so Adrasteius--and probably anyone else on the roster--is more than a little overworked. His expression over the feed is harried, haggard, and more than a little frustrated. Normally, diseases wither into nothing under the influence of the Light, but this illness has proved alarmingly resistant. He can treat the symptoms well enough, but the sickness itself keeps surviving. It would drive him to drink, if he even had time.]

This situation is getting out of hand. If you're still able, and you have the skill, the clinic needs you. I don't just mean healing skill, either--we need people to run supplies, prepare food, organize files, maintain records, all that sort of thing. Just tell me what you're able to do and I'll find you a place.

[Adrasteius runs a hand over his tired face, but his eyes are as bright and steady as ever. They might be bogged down, but he's damn sure not going to turn anyone away--not until taking in more people becomes unsafe.]

And if you think whatever this damn thing is has gotten hold of you, come see us. Not just because we aren't the Initiative--but because even their hospital is probably overflowing. We're busy, but we've still got clean beds and I'm still going to take care of you. I can't eliminate the disease, but I can mitigate whatever pain you're feeling, at least.

Good day. I've been training with modern weaponry and right now... well... I'm just not very good at it. Not good enough to be reliable in a fight to use it properly. I was thinking that, while I continue to practice, I should also keep to my current weapon skills to be reliable.

To that end, I have some money, and still have some alcohol and cigarettes, to trade in return for a bow and some arrows. If someone would be willing to explain to me the possibility of using technology to improve the arrows - so they explode or something when they hit, or deliver drugs, or perhaps release gas, any of this lethal or non-lethal - I would appreciate it.

I'd prefer to be more effective, and while my specialty is the blade, I'm far more effective right now with bow and arrow than with a gun.

[The last few minutes of the fighting on Elmer's world involved someone literally dragging a semi-conscious Barney out of a crashed UE tank and back through the portal, after a piece of rubble from an explosion clipped him on the side of the head and knocked him half unconscious. It's a mystery why he chose video for this, as the left half of his face is basically one big mess of bruise and scab, his eyes are blood-shot, and he generally looks like hell.]

Hey, uh, I don't exactly remember who it was, but thanks for dragging me back through the portal back there. Just because they can bring us back from the dead doesn't mean I'm wild about throwing my life away.

[He winces, reaches off screen and gingerly plants a giant ice pack on the injured side of his face.]

Sort of related to that, important thought:

UE pretty clearly just followed us to that world. Almost like they did it just to spite us. They KNOW what we're doing here. Seems to me it's only a matter of time before they just show up here and smash us into raspberry jam. Do we have some sort of secret weapon no one told me about that'll stop them?

[If Nate sounds pissed off... well, he is. This battle was far too much like ones in his past, ones that still haunt his dreams sometimes, and he can't just let it go]

I think if the last few days have shown us anything, it's that we, as a group, are woefully undertrained, and that while this may have started as the Initiative's war, it's all our war now. Us, and every potential reality. What happened there could happen to any world - hell, it could be happening right now, for all we know. And I know I at least have no intention of letting them continue. We may be able to chance the past, erase all these timelines from ever forming - but time-shifting has it's own risks. Best be prepared to deal with the present, as well.

I know there are people here who aren't fighters, out of choice or out of necessity. I respect that. Do what you can to support those fighting, but when push comes to shove? Stay the hell out of the way. Hard enough to fight a battle you're outnumbered in - having to cover civilians as well means we can't fight effectively.

And if any of you think what the United Earth did was in any way right? I will personally ensure your life is a living hell.

[There's a pause, and then when he continues he sounds calmer, if more determined]

I'm taking volunteers interested in training in a small combat unit. Experience isn't necessarily, though a willingness to follow instruction is. And the roster is, obviously, my pick. Let me know if you're interested.

All right, everyone needs to listen to this! Especially if you were one of the casualties the other day!

I'm as pissed off as anyone about what happened, but the overall attitude here isn't going to help anything! Maybe you got hurt! Maybe you died! But if you just sit around and mope, that's not going to help anything! You're alive now and it's up to you to decide what to do with that opportunity!

You choose how you keep moving forward! Do you really think you can make a difference for those people if you just stay where you are?! Or if you try to pretend like it never happened?! NO! I'm not saying it shouldn't have an effect on you, but the sooner you get past it, the sooner you can do something about it!

[Ibin's sitting on his bed, recently showered and changed into fresh clothes. He looks incredibly tired, but manages a quick, perfunctory smile.]

Um. Hello, Exsilium. I never did introduce myself when I first got here. My name is Ibin Cenna; where I'm from, they call me the Devil's Fruit Doctor, because I ate the Medi-medi Fruit. [For anyone who's seen him preen and show off, the small shrug he gives now is a far cry from all that.] If you want to know what that means, I can show you sometime. But that's not really what I mean to talk about now.

( He really doesn't know if he has a point to get to or not, but honestly-- he doesn't. )

 [You know what, Exsilium? Trying to figure out his own shit is giving Sam a headache. So he's going to try to figure out yours.]

Got a couple things on the agenda today so bear with me. Who knows, this just may end up saving your life down the line. So first thing first - if you see a ghost? RUN. Safest place to be, if ghosts here act like they should, is inside a salt circle, or in a room whose entrances are all guarded by undisturbed salt lines. Fill you in on it when it's tested, but it's better than nothing for now. If you can't run? Grab anything iron to defend yourself. Ghosts are weak to it. 

Item number two - raise your arm if you have no idea how the judicial system works here. If you do, explain it to the best of your understanding. The point of this is to eventually make a comprehensive accessible document. Laws and rights are kinda basic knowledge in a civilized society. 

Item number three - looking for someone? Want people from home to know you're here the moment they arrive, wanna let people know someone disappeared? Give me names, and I'll make an organized list we can pass around. There're a lot of posts on this network and it's way too easy to miss things. If you're looking for volunteers for anything, I can make a list for that too. 

Item number four - been on missions, willing to talk about your experiences on them, or just in Exsilium in general? I wanna hear all about it. Anonymously is just fine too. 

[Oh right]

Name's Sam Winchester, and if you're new, welcome aboard. Feel free to ask every question, if I can give you an answer I will. 

[ when Kururu comes on she's sitting on a couch, or more like fidgeting in place, surrounded by various metal parts some of which look like they used to belong to a wheelchair. ]

U, um... I'm sure someone has probably mentioned this before but - what do you suppose happens to people who...aren't here anymore?

I, I'm sure they just go back home and all is well, right? [ she laughs softly to herself and for a moment there's a rather sullen and worried look on her face. however, she quickly recovers and a bright look on her face overtakes everything. ]

I'm sorry if this is a really silly question, but I was only curious.

[ despite how hard she's trying to appear calm and collected, Gwen's eyes are wide, voice a little rough. she's not about to burst into tears, nothing to dramatic. but enough bad news might make her switch from video to text. she can't be away from her family right now, she just can't. there's too much going on, not to mention finals and- right. ahem. the camera is rolling, so to speak. ]

Hi. [ ahem ] Hello. I'm not sure who's receiving this video message, which seems a little dangerous, but I thought this would be better than not attempting to use this device at all. My name is Gwen, Gwen Stacy. About two hours ago, I was on my way to work - at the Oscorp Tower in New York, for reference - and now I'm... here. Just like that. [ and it's clear she doesn't like that fact at all. ] I'm not hurt, and I don't remember being taken or anything, it just- it's like I blinked, or- or tripped off of a curb, and ended up falling into that room. Which makes no sense. [ yeah, despite having a very polite woman walk her through that introduction here, help her with her weapon ( WEAPON, who gives out guns? honestly. ) and her new belongings, she's still completely unconvinced that this is all real. how can it be? ]

So, I just have a couple of questions, if anyone wouldn't mind taking the time to answer them for me:

One: Where are we really? In relation to New York City, specifically.

Two: Is there any way this can all be cleared up and sorted out so that I can be home by 8pm? My mother's cooking dinner for the family tonight, and I really shouldn't be late or she'll start to worry. And trust me, you do not want to see what my mother gets like when she's worried. It's bad. [ even heh!ing and doing an 'oh boy' sort of handwave as her eyes get a little bigger. hell hath no fury like a worried Helen Stacy, folks ]

I'd say those two questions are all I have so far, so.

--Thank you!

[The screen flickers on, showing Meliantha's face.]

Greetings, fellow travellers.

In the course of our last mission, I was able to take some time to exchange some of the currency from my home into currency for the place we were in, and then obtain supplies with it. For example, I was able to get clothing for myself, as well as the person whose body I had temporarily.

With what I had left - considerable amount, gold is much more precious there, it seems - I obtained items that people have mentioned on the network as desiring.

I have two hundred packages each of these kinds of... cigarettes. [She holds up two different packs, Marlboros and Kool 100s.]

I also have seventeen bottles each of... just a moment... 'Smernoff' vodka, Southern Comfort, and Bacardi. The bottles say they are 24 ounces.

I am willing to sell them - in fact, I obtained them to sell them to people, as they're not vices I indulge in, personally. I am also willing to trade for services! For example, I would like proper training with guns, as I do not know how to use them particularly well, and as long as I am here I should be learning how to use them. Also, cooking lessons would be appreciated, as I am terrible at it.

Please leave me a message and I will get back to you. According to my partner in this enterprise - who has already claimed part of it for his assistance - the packs will be ten marks each, the bottles thirty.

Thieves.

[ River is currently pacing around anxiously in front of the tablet where it's sat on the bed she has not slept in once in the week she's been here. ( Has she slept at all ? ) She's playing with the ends of her hair, head bowed, but wide eyes with dark circles dart over to the tablet on every other pass. ]

You're all - thieves and thefts, criminals and their crimes. They told you to go and you went, toy soldiers lined up in a row, and they took it all. Took everything, took you -

[ She stops for a moment, just to stare, before her pacing grows a little more jerky and frantic. ]

You're not you anymore. They mixed the signals and broke it apart, tore you into pieces and put you back wrong. You are a soul and you have a body, he said, but when you take someone else's brain and put it in someone else's body, can you still be called you? Were you even you to begin with?

Nǐ suǒyǒu de shuōhuǎng zhě, it wasn't yours to take and you took it, stole it away, and I - I know what they're trying to do. I can see you, and you're wrong.

[ A hand buries in her hair, shaking. ]

They want help. They need help, they're trapped and they - put it in my head, you cut it out and put it there but that doesn't make it right. Who decided you were right?

[ She lifts her head suddenly, fingers still tangled in her hair and eyes gone even wider. ]

Where are you? Whose side are you on?

[ ooc; as per usual, hover for Chinese translations and please check out her permissions post! you might notice that her name as it appears on the network is listed as "Mǐnsōu Shí," which is the alias she'll be using while in Ex. The first name is an anagram of her brother's name and composed with hack-job Chinese characters that don't actually mean anything, which anyone that can speak the language is more than free to call her out on. :') ]

[The post is public and easy to read for everyone, but if you're a paranoid type hoping to crack the anonymity he's made it as ridiculously hard as possible to hack for the most part, except for several completely exposed paths you can find with just a bit of searching and know-how that will help you crack the anonymity on this post with ease...but if you manage to hack your way through everything, it unfortunately leads to an unregistered device with no ID. Better luck next time you nosy sons a' bitches.

And yes, it's a dutifully crafted lure designed just to fuck with you people in the first place.]

So I was just wondering...what's the stay/go ratio around here like?

If you're interested, just tell me whether or not you'd rather stay here once the war ends, or go back home a.s.a.p.

Reasons optional, but preferred. [The more depressing the better, he could use a laugh.]

_{( Remy is seated at one of the taverns in the city, drumming his fingers along the bar counter and regarding the tablet idly. )}

Y'know, I mighta been grateful that they'd gotten us all back an' put ta rights by the end a the holidays if there was a better way ta celebrate out here.

_{( That's about as close as he's getting to mentioning timeline discrepancies on his own, since his general philosophy is "let's not talk about it." )}

I haven't been home for Mardi Gras in years, but it still seems a shame ta let it go by without a second thought. Even if there's no music, no parades, and no king cake. But here's ta you, fellow Transports. We survived another month.

_{( He raises the bottle of beer he's been sipping from, tilts it back and then sets it back on the counter decisively. )}

Guess Valentine's a bit more popular, no? An' it's comin' up right around the corner. Hard thing ta celebrate when you're not with the people y'care about, but maybe we can make do with each other. Would be a shame ta waste another holiday. _{( That's all said in rolling, easy kind of tone--not upset, just thoughtful. He smirks at the camera, once, before the feed cuts. )}

((OOC: This entire post is backdated to February 2nd! Yeah, one day, but...))

[Network, Video, Private to "Kaneis"]

Hey. I read those posts that I made during the last couple weeks. The ones where...

Well, that was me a decade ago. Riana, I mean. It's... A long story.

And... I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken the attitude I did towards you, I shouldn't have been so pushy, and I should've remembered I don't need hair secrets.

[Network-to-probable-action, Private to Shirley Fenette]

So, uh, it's not perfect, but I got some stuff together. I got lucky just after the mission and found a bunch of my world's sourcebooks. Haven't had a lot of time to go over them yet, but they're in really good condition for being, near as I can tell, a millenium-plus old.

Then again, they mentioned that resources one needs from their world become available here, so this might just be an extension of that? Or just coincidence. Or both.

Let's just not think about that, all right?

[Action, all over the place]

*Whenever Pidonus isn't busy teaching Shirley, she's going to be teleporting around the region at random. She's... DEFINITELY in some kind of funk, which seems doubly odd compared to her often fairly bright, confident attitude.

She's not even looking where she's going, so she might bump into you.*

(WARNING: Pidonus is basically a giant swarm of adequacy issues, and these have been brought to the fore by a certain someone's temporary instability. She's potentially likely to try and use her powers on anyone she runs into, trying to charm and seduce people as a desperate - and unlikely to succeed - attempt to ignore the problem. Please include in an OOC note in your response if you want her to try anything, if that something will succeed, or if you just want to talk to her.)

[video]

The last few days are kind of a fuzzy blank, but I'm assuming there's a perfectly good explanation as to why my bedroom as a smashed ruin and my window now covers the entire wall.

I'd be interested in hearing it, IF someone can spare a minute.

[video again, twenty minutes later.]

I am sorry. I am so very sorry. I wanted to get back what I lost but...

I never wanted this.

Please forgive me.

[Meliantha, looking a little older, with an eyepatch and her hair much shorter, looks out of the screen.]

Okay. I've got a couple minutes, so.

Someone go to the path where Chelexthia, or whatever she called herself, killed me, find my sword, and bring it to my room. Leave it on the couch. I'll leave myself a message that, when I get brought back to life, to pay you for the service.

Thanks.

[Video, public.]

[Gordon looks like hell. Drawn and sleepless, A large bruise on his forehead across the browbone, several scrapes, cuts and bruises on his face and neck, glasses scratched... He stares into the camera awkwardly, with bustle in the Labs behind him.]

No doubt you've seen the large anomalous mass in the middle of the city. I believe we know exactly what it is now.

It's a creature by the name of Zagreus. It's a conscious collective of timelines that had been unnaturally stopped from manifesting the way they should. The resultant energy has gained a name and a mind... of a fashion, but not a form. Yet. It's not alive in the conventional sense, but it does have a goal: to eradicate every timeline it comes into contact with, including ours. It had been dormant in the Doctor's subconscious until now; god only knows how it got out, but now it's free, and gestating inside that temporal knot in the center of town. Feeding off all the chaos of the age-scrambling while the Timeknot dilation field ages and turns to ash anything that gets immersed in it.

We've got to get in there and destroy Zagreus before it reaches full maturity. Thanks to the Doctor's schematics we at the Labs have created a handful of personal temporal stability devices that will enable us to get into the Tineknot unharmed. What we need now, are people who are willing to use them. We should have enough devices for anyone who wants to go in, anyone who wants to fight, but let me know here so that I can be sure of it.

Tomorrow morning we'll meet there. I plan on going in as well. It wouldn't be the first time I did something like this... But I get the feeling that even in its larval stage, Zagreus is going to take all our firepower to take down.

[Video, private to Morrigan]

[He knows she heard him, that he intends to throw himself into that portal to god-knows-where. He hadn't mentioned anything of the sort to her. Therefore:]

I think I owe you an explanation.

((EDIT: Log post is HERE! CHARGE!))

[ This is a video post! But you don't actually see the scruffy guy talking this time, aside from maybe parts of mechanical limbs and a trail of cigarette smoke—yeah, some cyborgs can pull of tricky feats like broadcasting what they see with their own artificial retinas. Cool shit. He seems to be looking outside the window—not a whole lot of festive decorations in the street, phew—, so probably nothing interesting here for you guys, which means you're more or less forced to listen. ]

So, Christmas. Doesn't seem to be a big deal in this time and place compared to 21st century America, which I'm actually kinda grateful for. Bigger problems, after all... [ Because wow Christmas sure sucks when your family is dead and you don't have a partner. ] Bet the majority of you don't even know what it's all about. Personally I just care about eggnog right now -- and so should you if you like having something good to drink.

[ Priorities. Adam's downplaying this a lot but he still got a select few people gifts... speaking of gifts. ]

Oh yeah, I think somebody forgot this at my place...

[ And with this, he means a black lace C cup bra, which he's dangling in front of his own eyes. ]

Unless this is supposed to be a gift. I'm not sure what to do with it. Might wanna come here and pick it up before I get rid of it or give it to someone else -- it being Christmas and all.

[ Adam sounds remarkably indifferent despite the implications. He's so gonna get spanked for this and that's actually exactly what he wants AHEM. Anyway, there's a private text message tacked onto this later—for Vanadi. ]

You too.

[ Yeah, just that. ]


(( ooc: also, linking Adam's CASIE permissions post again c: ))

[The screen comes on, showing Meliantha, with two small barrels - about knee-high, each - with markings on them (probably writing, but not Earth languages) on the table next to her.]

It has been brought to my attention that, for the good of us all, I must sacrifice some things I brought with me.

This [She puts her hand on one of them] is a small-keg of Tanagyr's Stout, a dark stout, well-regarded and smuggled heavily from place to place. And this [She touches the other] is a small-keg of Saerloonian Special Red, which is as the name implies a red wine, considered excellent where I am from.

I currently have about nine gallons of the beer, and eleven gallons of the wine, available. In order to keep the peace and help those in need, I will be willing to share these with us who have been brought here. Bring your own cups or glasses.

Since many people do not think well of those that just give things away, therefore I request in return the best joke you know - I am sharing something to improve people's moods, so we can have that in return.

GUYS!

GUYS GUYS GUYS!

[Hello Exsilium, have a very excited, and possibly familiar to some, Panda! He's been away for a while, but now, it seems, he's back with his usual fanboyish glee.

At least this time we're not seeing the inside of his nose?]

Oh. Right. Sorry, sorry. Volume control. Gotta remember that. But...so cool.

Okay. Okay. I disappeared from here for a while, right? That's what happened? That's what happened. Okay.

We can time travel.

[His expression says "IS THAT NOT THE COOLEST THING EVER?"]

Not the missions, I know about the missions. But we time travel when we go back home! Get this. We come back...exactly...the time we left.

So I didn't even get in trouble with Master Shifu for missing lessons or anything!

[His excitement dulls just a little however, and he looks thoughtful.]

But...okay. It does get kind of weird. I couldn't remember you guys. That was...that was kind of a bummer, actually. But...but now I'm back and it's all back! Here!

[He points to his head.]

Isn't that just the coolest?

((OOC: Folks in (or around) Room 105 can action-tag as well, if they like! Hi new roomies! :D))

[So... arriving here was a shock enough. Now... she's still struggling to absorb everything she's learned. It's so overwhelming, really. And Xion is not comfortable at all with just... putting her face and her voice and herself in general out there, but she has several questions and nobody she knows nearby to ask. So, text it is]

So we can't go home until we help the Initiate win this war? What if we've never fought in a war before? Why do they choose who they do?

I'm sorry if that's a lot of questions. I just don't understand what's going on. [Or why they picked her]

Is there any way of telling if there's anyone you know here?

[It seems like that's it, but at that moment, Xion slips in a puddle in the real world and nearly drops the tablet, fumbling with it and accidentally activating the video feed. It shows a small hooded girl, though her face is difficult to see. She seems to stare at a moment at the feed in surprise before she mutters "Sorry", and a hand clutching the bow she got when she arrived reaches up and clicks it off again]

[ 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.

[She looks squarely at the camera. A very nonhuman face: gold fur, slitted eyes, and four large pointed ears. There seems to be some recent damage with small scrapes, the larger ones covered by bandages.] My appearance. Do you feel fear? Of unfamiliarity, or recognition.

If it is the former, then you need not tell me.

[A pause, as she seems unsure about the next topic. Her speech is slower, cautious and reserved.] Many species, many homeworlds. Many opportunities. My search is ongoing.

What is… expected of your species? Your gender. Your— caste. Your role, by design. Do you fulfill it, or do you rebel?

[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.

[ 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.

[Adrasteius glares into the feed, adjusting it occasionally as he talks. The tablet is the strangest excuse for a scrying device he's ever seen, and he has little faculty with its functions.

The viewer sees a short, unnaturally thin elf, wearing richly colored robes with fingerless gloves. His long ears twitch constantly, and his blazing green eyes have no discernible pupils--though the direction of his stare is generally obvious. Bright red, violently glowing tattoos are visible across his neck and collarbone, and this glow seems to intensify as he speaks--rather, howls--into the feed.]

Tell me something. Is there a goddamn church around here somewhere? A man has needs, you know? SPIRITUAL NEEDS. What I'm saying is, I want to pray, and I want to do so in a holy house. I realize that we are all trapped in a Light-forsaken wasteland, but surely some people here still have religion? Yes?

[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.

[The sound of guitar song drifts over the wireless, a lovely sound. It's a bit different for everyone, and whoever can here it likely finds themselves warming up to it. It's a wee, bright song, and maybe even the most grouchy will find themselves smiling, even if for a moment. Good memories override the horrible, recent events, and hatred sizzles and goes out, only smoke for the wind. It's temporary, as long as the player plays, but maybe it'll stick around for some. Gods know, people need it right now.

[The music seems to fade, quieter and low in the background. Humming accompanies it for a moment, then the voice speaks. Remember that odd Scottish bloke? No? Ah, well.]

I still dinnae know why they brought me here. The Initiative, or whatever it's called.

[He's not angry. Swann's voice is as pleasing as the music, a rich, deep song in itself that rolls over the listener.]

I remember the Great War, and coming close to nearly being blown to hell and back. We kept our distance from the cities at first, but it was hellish for people. They might of lost their home, their beau, a child or perhaps all of them. Maybe they saw friends leave and never came back. I dinnae. We werenae soldiers, though a handful of the young men went to join up. Maybe I should'ave as well.

So, we took our wee carnival and without talking about it much at all, we started visiting the outskirts of cities. Never entered 'em proper, then or now. Local constabulary didnae like us much. But we gave the people something to focus on other than such things. Cannae say it was out of the kindness of our hearts, not all of it. Ye have ta live, and it's what we knew.

[He goes silent for a moment, letting his fingers speak.]

Maybe that's why I'm here, aye? Either that or I'm paying for not puttin my neck on the line all those years ago. No matter--I'm here now and that's all what matters.

Tell me what's botherin' ya, if you like. I'm nae a bad listener. And if that's not to yer liking, ask for a song. I know a few.



Right! Swann's music affects people as he wishes, and right now it's a soothing, perhaps even joyful, something to take the edge off of what has happened. It will last as long as he continues to play. Permissions, and please please please do not hesitate to ask questions.


ALSO--some threads I will be slow on answering. I'd like to link to music, but I found the sites are blocked here at work, so answers won't be until tonight. :(

[The face on the screen is the one above. The image rotates a bit, then settles down.]

Greetings. I am Meliantha.

I managed to convince one of our hosts to explain to me how this device works. Where I am from we have nothing like it. Many things here are different. But many things are similar - perhaps universal things.

I would be willing to trade lessons in fighting for lessons in the devices used here, if it would be helpful. While my main skill is in the sword, I have used most weapons and-

[She pauses, as if interrupted, and then appears to address the sword hilt visible over her shoulder.]

-- no, I am not going to give you away, do not be silly.

[She returns her attention to the message, and continues.]

-- and have also taught basic tactics to arrange a successful slave rebellion. Hopefully these skills will be worth the time in trade. I hope to speak with others soon. I know there are a number of persons with skills in the blade - we may wish to gather and battle each other, in order to improve our skills and learn new tricks.