[Bloop. The video turns on to show a shiny new face, a teenage boy who's apparently not completely sure he's doing this thing right. After a moment of scrutinizing the camera he apparently realizes it is in fact recording, and starts talking, the busy market place bustling in the background.]

Uh, hi. I'm Toji. I just got here.

[Yeah, okay. Even he can tell that was basically the lamest intro ever. He grits his teeth a bit and decides to just lay everything down.]

Okay. I'm not gonna pretend I understood halfa what they just told me, but they said they bring a lot of people here, right? From different times and worlds and all that. So that means maybe it's a long shot, but there could be someone here I know.

[Hold on. Someone might misinterpret that. Touji decides to clarify a little, looking just the tiniest bit flustered.]

Not that I need anyone here holdin my hand or nothin, I'm just sayin it'd be nice to see a familiar face.

[A few more moments of deliberation, and Touji changes his mind entirely.]

You know what, forget I asked. Can someone tell me where the best place to get some clothes in this market is? Ones that don't make me look homeless. Wearin this plugsuit everywhere is gettin embarrassing.

[On the feed, you can see a pretty blonde girl staring at the screen. She's brushing her long hair with one hand, reaching to poke around on the screen with the other.

Finally, she lets out a little sigh, and mutters:]

Same shit, different day, I guess.

[She'll finally look directly into the camera, now, and put on a bit of a smile as she continues brushing her hair.]

So, it looks like I'm one of the few people whose age didn't get screwed around with. Anyone else out there?

[As the feed comes on, an somewhat intimidating redheaded man standing somewhere outside can be seen eyeing the device. His expression, though relatively indifferent, is slightly annoyed. Getting thrown into a second warring world after having ended a war back home? Yeah, it isn't particularly enjoyable.

Upon seeing the communicator function as it should, the irritation shifts into a look of mild approval. If nothing else, their technology was simple enough to use.]

I am Kratos Aurion, one of those among the new arrivals in Exsilium. [Introduction aside, it's time to get down to more pressing business.] The technology within this world must be substantially advanced to permit for time travel. What do their devices use as a fuel source?

[Bad experience with overuse of an energy source to the point of the world nearly being destroyed make one cautious about such things. Hmm on the note of their technology....]

I've another inquiry, one pertaining to the Initiative's transportation capabilities: is it commonplace for them to be able to bring in those who have already been thrown into a world which is not their own? On that matter, is there anyone present who is aware of any of the following: Sylvarant, Tethe'alla or Death Ci--

[Kratos gets abruptly --and painfully-- cut off with a brick falling from the building behind him and hitting him square in the head. The communicator gets dropped, landing face first on the ground. Though nothing but darkness is visible for a good couple seconds, a few rather colorful choice words can be heard coming from off screen.

It takes a moment before the device gets picked up and a very displeased looking Kratos can be seen rubbing the back of his head. If one were to pay close enough attention, they would notice the hand is covered with a fair bit of blood.]

...If someone might provide directions to an infirmary, it would be greatly appreciated.

[Thrust into yet another warring world and dealing with a potential concussion. Great. Just Great. The feed gets flicked off.]

[Koltira's voice is even more guttural than usual, thick with gravel and pain. The strange reverberation is more pronounced, too; it's as though some other spirit hisses in echo of each word he says.]

I ask you--for my sake--for yours--do not come near my lake right now. [he pauses, exhaling raggedly.] Best ... best, in fact, to avoid the area around it in a several mile radius. For several days, at least.

Please.

[another short, gasping breath, and he's done.]

[OOC edit: koltira is now in his blood frenzy. you are free to approach him, action-style, but please keep in mind that the content of such threads may be triggering. death knights are sadists, and their view of violence is inevitably sexualized. OK? OK <3]

[Adrasteius stares into the feed silently for a few moments, eyebrows drawn, jaw set.  He's somewhere outside in the city, on a sidewalk, surrounded by an ever-shifting throng of people.  The masses don't seem to bother him, though.  He has the look of someone who was struck by a sudden thought, and then by a subsequently urgent need to voice it.  There's a shakiness to the feed as he talks, which suggests that the hand holding the tablet is quaking--though whether that's from emotion or some physical problem is not clear.]

I've noticed that a number of you claim to be leaders in your worlds.  Princes.  Kings.  Queens.  Nobility of some stripe.  

[Adra pronounces all of those nouns with the same tone another person might use to discuss vermin, and the venom only worsens as he goes on.]

Perhaps you were a general or a lieutenant.  Perhaps a politician.  Or you controlled a gang.  [The tone indicates that he pretty much lumps all of those positions together.]

Whatever you were, it seems clear that a few of you think this entitles you to the same position here.  This is, of course, fucking ridiculous.  But let us entertain, for the sake of argument, that you should retain your privileged status in this place.  I ask: why?  

[His eyes narrow, and he leans low over the tablet, his eyes bright and angry.]

Don't misunderstand me.  I'm not asking for a record of your 'heroic' and 'worthy' exploits.  I don't need to hear about how many battles you've won or organized;  about how many goddamn corpses you've piled up in your past.  I care not one fucking iota about your pathetic, disgusting warmongering.  

Don't fucking tell me about how you can punch through twenty walls with your immense strength, or how your magical prowess is so great that you can conjure thousands of swords from thin air, or stop hearts, or bend minds, or any of that other fucking.  nonsense.  Do you understand me?  I don't care if you can kill any man, woman, child, or other semi-sentient thing you set eyes on, and if you try to brag about it, you will be instantly dismissed as a witless fucking troglodyte.

No.  I'm asking you what you stand for.  What is your philosophy of leadership?  Do you favor fear and violence?  Do you favor control?  Do you claim to speak about cooperation, when what you actually want is doe-eyed agreement from a bunch of teat-suckling yes-men?  Well, goddammit?  What makes you fit to lead?  Fit to serve?  I don't want to know about your muscles, physical or otherwise.  I want to know about your fucking convictions.