The way I see it-

[Isaac is in one of the training areas- he's dressed in loose clothing, slightly sweat-damp, and with that cocky, arrogant little grin on his face. Just behind him, slightly obscured by the camera angle, is one of those hefty training dummies, and it's now in absolute tatters, worn down at the chest and head area and generally ripped to shreds.]

This 'training' is a joke. If we're going to be fighting real people out there, we need to be fighting real people in here. So.

[He tilts his chin upward, utterly confident in himself.]

Someone come spar with me.

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?

[ what up, exsilium. have you had your daily dose of teenager yet? no? let's fix that. ]

Hey, Scott, buddy—thanks for the calendar. It's awesome. [ covering his best friend's furry butt: just a day in the life of stiles stilinski. (it's his "birthday", he can lie if he wants to.) ] I can track lunar phases way more accurately now, which, y'know. Totally helpful. You know me... and the moon. And planets, all of the planets. Love 'em.

[ you might notice the way he's chewing on his shirt, his lips, the way his eyes dart around. it's not because he's lying—which he never made a claim to be good at, but hey—it's because he's two seconds from jumping on his bed and raising hyperactive hell. ]

Moving on—where can a guy score some Adderall around here? It's usually a prescription thing, but, hey, doesn't look like the Initiative kidnappers really care all too much about stuff like medication. Here's a little tip for you guys, if you're listening in, which, let's face it, you probably are: I can't fight your battles for you unless you make an effort for me, okay? Okay.

[ OKAY. ]

Man, I'd kill for a good movie. Video game. I'd even settle for a board game. Parcheesi?

 [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?

  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]]

[ There's a very solemn face in the center of the frame, and he stares with just a hint of frustration. It eases when he sees he's got something working. ]

It feels somewhat ridiculous, to be addressing a… [ drawin' a blank, here. ] …Something of this sort, instead of a person. But I've been told it will work, by a woman with no reason I could see to lie, I see nothing to do but have faith that it will…

[ He sighs, draws himself up a little straighter. ]

My name is Ashraf Salib, and I am a priest. I am a competent healer, with experience surviving dangerous areas. If there are any that would like to include me in their party, you will find that my fees are very reasonable. I hope to hear from you soon.