[Chloe--long time no see, network-- is settled down in a dimly lit bit of local architecture. At least it looks that way at first glance; Initiative buildings are usually a touch more pristine, and one hell of a lot more futuristic.]

Evening lads and ladies. Given the way things've been going lately between our sort and the locals, there's no doubt that finding what we need to get by isn't exactly an easy venture. Then again, when everything around here is coated in a couple hundred years of grit, it wasn't all that easy to begin with. [A small, thoughtful little beat. Drummed out on a table too low to see.] Or worth it for that matter.

Which is why after a lengthy hiatus, I'm pleased to announce that my item retrieval service is back up and running-- with a few minor adjustments.

[The camera shifts, dipping slightly as whoever’s holding the tablet shifts their hands. The cameraman in question hisses at her, clearly trying and failing to be discreet:] Oi, your retrieval service?

Well it was mine first. The next time you wind up in an alien future before the rest of us you can go start your own bloody business.

Fine, alright. Go on then. [And the camera shifts up again, less steady than before.]

--Right. So as I was saying. For those of you that need something-- anything-- found or picked up or even gently borrowed from a few bygone eras, Frazer and Cutter's Acquisitions and Fine Antiques is here to manage it for you. For a few nominal fees of course, and with much less glaring than what you’ll find around here.

Trust me, with the sort of luck the Initiative’s been having, you’ll want a pair of professionals on your side.


**Charlie Cutter is in red and the pair of them are more than happy to respond to any incoming inquiries or requests!

[ Baaa Baa-aa-aaaaaa Baaaaaaaaaaa! ]

I say, hello, hel-looooo! I have a question for you all--

[ The grime-smeared face of Xerxes Break appears onscreen. His white hair is discolored with dust and stuck together. There's a semicircular wound under his right cheekbone, and the shoulder of his jacket looks chewed. Despite all of this, he seems terribly pleased with himself. ]

Does anyone here have qualifications in animal husbandry?

[ More angry bleating and a yelp! Break turns. Visible in the background is another (also dirty and disheveled) man, desperately fending off a sheep. It’s not going at all according to plan; with a single headbutt he’s out of the camera’s line of sight, followed by a thud and worrisome tinkling noises. ]

Why, Gilbert. I think she likes you! ♥

[ Moving right along... ]

Anyway - yes. I'm looking specifically for people with experience or interest in shepherding, as well as shearing, spinning, knitting, cheese-making--

[ Another CRASH! and a voice yelling, “Break, look out!" ]

--and hand-to-hand combat! Kindly respond to this post, or apply in person to the botanical gar--

[ Break’s face suddenly disappears. The last image visible onscreen is… this. ]

Um... Um... Okay! IT'S TIME FOR A POLL!

Which of y'all are not humans?

And which of y'all who are humans are the... the shoot everybody up, bust all the doors down, take no prisoners... critter-barbecuin' variety?!

[Wrathion doesn't know how this happened. He had escaped the recent pandemic with barely a sniffle, which was no surprise to him--he was a dragon, after all; superior in fortitude and resistance, divinely crafted, nearly invincible. Yes, Exsilium was a sickly place, and yes, he did sometimes feel that rot trying to seep into him. Black dragons were creatures of earth: rock and soil and wood and the hot, molten depths that burned in the center of the planet. He is not directly connected to the health of this world, not as he was to Azeroth, but he keenly feels its plague all the same. Still, he should have been immune to it.

And yet.

Here he was, just days after returning from the beach, stuck with frustrated helplessness in his bed. He's sneezing, he's coughing, his head feels like somebody bashed it in and then replaced his brain with dust and cotton. And he's hot--uncomfortably, unnaturally hot.

Groaning, he scowls into his tablet. For once, Wrathion is just not in the mood for his usual front.]

What does a man have to do to get some medicine around here? I'm a prince, you know! I shouldn't have to go around begging for everything I need.

[He coughs violently--and maybe with a little more exaggeration than necessary--and his red eyes flare. He clears his throat and speaks through gritted teeth.]

What I mean to say is that I would be most grateful if one of you could make yourselves useful and bring me something for these terrible, horrible aches. And the congestion. And this truly awful cough!

[He goes in for another dramatic round of heaving.]

--and be quick about it. I'm really not used to wait-- [coughs] -- I mean, I'm in dire shape, here.

Thank you.

_{( For once, Remy might actually be in his apartment. He's sitting on his bed, not in coat or costume but a simple cotton shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He's got a roll of cloth bandages, and is wrapping his hands methodologically. )}

Y'all really know how ta discuss, you know that? I'm very impressed.

_{( He's not, actually. He thinks the talking around such matters is a waste of time, and also a way to show the Initiative their hand. But he doesn't say so. )}

But I have ta say, all this bleak talk ain't really for me. Can't keep at it for very long. Désolé.

So, for those of you who care ta lighten the mood, here's a game. First player--that'd be me, I like ta deal--gives you a word. You say the first thing that comes ta your mind, after that. An' y'keep goin', over an' over, until someone cracks an' has ta ask the reasonin' behind your answer.

Whether y'tell 'em is up ta you.

_{( He laughs, to himself. )}

It's an option, anyways. If you don't wantta keep talkin' 'bout how unhappy y'all are.

_{( ooc / idk if this'll come up but if you want to threadjack and play with each other, i'm totally cool with that. )}

[Here sits Junko, a girl with conflicted feelings. A girl with things to say! ]

（ ；´Д｀） this is terrible, isn't it? the worst! i was doing something very important, you know? kidnapping is against my schools rules! absolutely, kidnapping junko enoshima is against the rules!

upupu i have to do this and that, it's very important. i'm absolutely despairing. i might cry!

... not really! upupupu. hello! did i make an entrance? were you completely captivated? it's to be expected of hopes peaks super high school level fashion girl! ヾ(･ω･*)ﾉ it's very nice to meet you all, please treat me kindly! oh, isn't it strange to introduce yourself to lots of strangers? it feels like my first day of high school all over again!

upupupupu ~ ✩! let's try our best to get along! if not, i'll definitely kill you!

.... just kidding! (ó㉨ò) would you like to see the great joker junko?

[A slow switch to video. The tablet is bigger than her cellphone from home. Junko waves with a smile. Today she is quirky fashion idol Junko Enoshima: nothing more nothing less. ]

You know, I've never seen a war up close before. Not a real war, anyway. The fashion world is really cut throat though! Kidnapping is really Hollywood, don't you think? It's definitely scary. You know, I think it might even be scarier than home.

[She pauses. ]

... You know, all of that text was a lie. I'm very glad to be out of school. From one scary place to the next, I think my luck is super duper bad. Super duper extremely bad, even. The worst, most despairing luck ever.

[Her shoulders sag.] I wonder if any of my classmates escaped too? Maybe that's a silly wish. Hope is really futile, huh?

[Acting comes easy. She probably seems a little nuts, and that's fine. It's easy to explain home. It's easy to claim trauma too. Being on video is tiring, though; keeping her expression in check, keeping her voice completely miserable -- it's all completely fake. She sighs, the only genuine thing about this broadcast.

The despair she feels is not even an impressive kind. It's unexpected and spontaneous, but it's low quality and lackluster. Behind her, out of sight, sits Monobear, immobile and useless for now. Her figure head, reduced to a plush toy with a broken on switch. She forces a smile. ]

Let's be friends, I meant that part.

[And with that, she ends the video. ]

[Anduin's face is a touch too-composed as he edges into view, gazing silently at the screen of the tablet for a moment before leaning forward. Giving a quiet sigh, he rests his chin on his hands, elbows on the desk. His expression is a somber one, and yet he still smiles softly as he looks downward slowly.]

My apologies to those I was talking too awhile ago. Things have been a touch ...busy as of late.

[Busy in the avoiding everyone that he can sense, at least. Still, it's rude to try and shut himself away for so long no matter his feelings and it isn't what Varian would want. Using that resolve he sits up a little straighter, lifting his head. When he finds his voice, there's a newfound ring of pleasantry to his tone, even if he doesn't exactly feel the quiet cheer he is working into his voice.]

I just wanted to thank everyone who was kind enough to help me look for my father. I greatly appreciated your actions despite the actual outcome. It means a great deal to me that you took the time to help me, and I truly am grateful.

[It does no one any good to sit and pout and sulk because his father isn't there - things will be alright, really! He just has to convince himself of that, now. There is little to say now that he's offered his thanks, but still Anduin pauses for a moment, eying the tablet screen thoughtfully for a moment before speaking again, impulsively.]

If I can do anything in return, or ...if anyone would simply like to talk, by all means. Thank you again.

[And with that he cuts the communication, determined to force himself out of the slump. He had handled worse before, after all! This would be easy in comparison!]

Excuse me, if someone could help me for a moment?

[Anduin slips into view, peering solemnly at the screen. His voice is even and calm but there's an uncertainty rising in his eyes as he continues to speak.]

Has anyone seen my father? Varian Wrynn? Normally when he leaves like this I'm aware, but-

[But he's not sure, and he's uneasy even if he's doing well at hiding most of it.]

If anyone sees him, please let me know, or have him contact me, if you could. Thank you.

[Annnnd blackscreen.]

[ This lady's looking a little different, for anyone that's spoken with her before. Not any older, but there's a sort of crooked quality to her nose, like it'd been broken and healed some time ago. She's lounging in the Initiative apartments, looking like she's recently made friends with a superiority complex. ]

I want to speak to those of you who have seen a war before. Not the skirmishes that the Initiative sends us on here, but actual war.

And failing that, I'll take anyone that knows magic — and can teach it. That part is important. Don't waste my time if all you can do is cast it.

[The face that greets you is inquisitive, friendly, and distinctly red-eyed. The young man looks to be in his late teens, and he's dressed in fine clothes: an intricately embroidered, long-sleeved tunic with epaulets, worked in black and gold and fashioned with a large ruby in the center of his chest. His turban glitters with rubies, as well, and there's a gold hoop dangling from one ear. The overall effect suggests royalty--or, at least, significant affluence. He's dark-skinned and dark-haired, and seems human, at least aside from the bright, piercing glow of his eyes.

There's some shuffling of the image as Wrathion moves about his room, trying to find the best light and angle for his address.

Once he's relatively sure that everything is in order, Wrathion smiles toothily into the camera.]

My, what fascinating technology this is! I can honestly say that I've never seen anything quite like it. Am I really broadcasting to an entire network of people? Amazing.

[He pauses for a moment; clears his throat. He's been here a few days and he's spoken with a few people, but most of the population is as yet unknown to him, and vice versa. Introductions are necessary.]

My name is Wrathion, last of Azeroth's black dragonflight, and it seems I've been pulled right from one dire conflict to another.

[The ingratiating smile widens. His teeth really are quite sharp.]

Back home, I was doing my best to find an expedient and decisive solution to the war at hand. I hope I can make myself useful here, as well. To that end, I'm eager to meet all of you--whether over this device, or, more preferably, in person.

I'm sure we'll all get along splendidly.