[It's been quite some time since Connor has posted to the network. Besides his busy schedule keeping him from using the tablet more casually, he's been wary of leaving messages 'out in the open', so to speak. Who knows what scheming Initiative members and Templars might be watching?

But desperate times do call for desperate measures. He chooses the video option even though he still thinks there's something decidedly off-putting, maybe even dangerous, about recording your face on these window machines.

His hood is up and the background suggests he's on another roof.]

Are you all so concerned about your possessions that you would overlook murder?

[Someone's furious. Someone's beyond furious. (The United Earth and the Initiative might as well be made up of a bunch of Charles Lee's right about now.) There's a good bit of venom in his voice and at times he simply yells, half at the tablet, half at the city around him.

Needless to say, this wasn't what he was expecting to return to when he came back from his recent Outlands trip.]

The Initiative have made it very clear that not only do they intend to relocate us, but they mean to leave their own people behind to die. The excuse I have heard is that they have not the power to save them.

A bold-faced lie if ever there was one.

( Idealism never killed anyone oh wait- )

[She looks tired, a little strung out, like she's sure most people do right now, but this is important, and it's important that people listen, which means she's using video, in the hopes it'll help make this message stick.

When she speaks, it's steady enough, though there's hints of worry and desperation in her tone, at times. Indications of how serious she's taking this, how hard it's hitting her.]

I know everything's a mess right now, but if you're seeing this, I need you to take the time to sit and listen, please, because I'm trying to help all of us and that won't work if everyone ignores me. Some of are probably going to hate me for this, but that's okay, as long as you keep listening while you hate me.

[a beat; a breath]

We're not abandoning the Exiles.

( this got long winded )

I don't understand you lot. [Mostly the Exiles, but Transports, too. Although it's a statement she can say on any given day most of the time anyway since the huge gap in cultures, but this time it's something specific.]

Where I'm from? If someone attacks you, you attack'em back. If someone steals something o' yours, you put a spear in their belly, and if they steal you? You fight back.

We're supposed t'be trainin' for some war. I know war, and this is how you lose it. If all we're doin' is sittin' around, waitin' for them to attack us with our fingers up our arses. This is how this place works, aye? They do somethin' t'us, we fight'em off, and then we sit around until they do somethin' else. Like destroy someone's home.

I'm tired of sittin'.

[ there's an awkward second of someone fumbling with the device. when scott steps back a second later, the reason's obvious: he's trying to get it to balance on his desk, giving a clear view of both him and isaac standing a few feet off. ]

Hey. My name's Scott. I was here once before, so I guess I don't really have any questions.

[ except for maybe why am i back, but he knows that'd just be wasting time. anyway, they're broadcasting for a reason, and that's not it. ]

I know stuff is really weird here, like angels and superheroes and shapeshifters, so I don't really get the point in— [ keeping secrets? that's pretty broad. he obviously didn't map this speech out, so rather than making more of a mess he just stumbles for the finish line. ] I'm a werewolf. If you have a problem with that, let me know.

[ there's no challenge in his tone. it sounds more like "sorry, but we can probably talk it out". he almost steps forward to end the feed there, catching himself abruptly to add: ]

Isaac too. [ And Isaac offers a casual little wave at that, in the midst of all his eyerolling at Scott's... presentation of sorts. Really, Scott. ]

People are missing and people are hurt, and we want to help, but we can't do anything if we're too busy hiding. [ which is the real point of this, except hold up, one last thing. ] And we know there's a full moon in a few days, but we aren't crazy and we won't hurt anyone.


( ooc: icly the day after the party/kidnappings. all dialogue is scott's because isaac is rude, but replies will come from one or both! )

Oooooooookay people, after much work and coordination efforts and the fact I can't get anything done ever, I have finally managed to get everything I need in order to throw a proper kickass party. Wide spaces, music, drinks, food, dark corners, lights. The works.

[ A beat. ]

And yes, anyone can come. But because of that I've written down four simple rules you are all expected to follow:


1. You start acting like a stupid drunk, I kick you out.
2. I see anything besides and smokes in your hands, I kick you out.
3. You start a fight, I kick you two (or three) out.
4. I see you trying to take advantage of a drunk teen...well, you know how it goes.

[ Does she make awesome lists or what? ]

Now! We need to decide on a date. This weekend is kind of taken by that Open House thing, so next week? I guess the best way to welcome the newbs is with a party anwyay. For ourselves. So maybe we'll meet them with a hangover! Please measure yourselves.

So! If you are remotely interested in coming, let me know here, so I know if this is going to be an all out party or something more like three people playing Strip Jenga.

Come on, talk to me people.

[Private to Tony Stark and Oliver Queen]

Congratulations, you two have been chosen to give me a hand making sure the adults play nice. I don't think anything is going to happen, but can you please please please at least pretend to keep an eye on things?

[Private to Stanley Lucerne]

Hors d'oeuvres.

[ She actually says it moderately well. ]

Assuming you're going to come.

[Private to Donny Casey]

You're totally coming.

[The tablet has been carefully propped on a library table against some books in order to capture video of Charles from the mid-chest up. Or, initially a close up of his face all frowny and concentrating and then he pushes away to lean back again.]

Hello. I'm Professor Charles Xavier, something of a recent arrival, although, it seems as if I've been here previously. If you happen to remember me from before the beginning of this month, I'm afraid I don't remember you, but I'd be fascinated to know anything you can tell me, if you don't mind.

I'll return to that in just one moment, but there's a rather important thing I have to get to first. The locals, those who have been living in Exsilium long before we were ever summoned here, are not happy with the current state of affairs. And can you really blame them? They've been told we're here to help, but they've no proof of it, not when it involves time travel and reality modification. All they can see is the negative attention we draw from the United Earth, and the preference given to Transports over them. So, this is my proposal: we form a team to protect them. A team that visibly makes an effort to prevent harm from coming to the Exiles, that protects them where the Initiative might not. It won't be easy, especially right now, at the beginning. They don't trust, or like us. But with time, if we demonstrate our willingness to coexist and use our resources to help them, there is no reason for us to remain at odds. Now! What is a volunteer service without volunteers--which is where you lot come in. If any of you are inclined to help, or even if you only want to ask questions, do speak up. The more of us there are, the better use we'll be.

As for my previous self, it seems as if he'd, or, I'd managed to secure funding, and a building of some sort for the purposes of, well, creating a school. I've really no idea if any of his arrangements carried over to me, but before I go looking into that, I'd prefer to know how far he managed to get. Did any renovations occur? Where is the building to begin with?! If any of you know anything about this school, I'd be terribly grateful for your help.

[He smiles, and then leans forward again, to switch it off.]

[It's been a while since Kili's shown his face in public, and as the feed starts, it becomes apparent as to why. The young dwarf is terribly pale, a gleam of sweat shining on his brow and dark shadows beneath bloodshot eyes. He's been ill, very much so, and it's only really now that he's become conscious enough to speak.

Some words are difficult to understand as his voice is mostly gone, and what is understandable is spoken in a rough, croaky tone.]

I will pay for someone to bring me food, and ale if possible. I have coin or I can pay you back in fresh game, once I-- [He's interrupted by a harsh cough.] Once I can hunt again.

[He's half tempted to ask for a healer. He may be getting better, but he still feels awful. His pride rebels against the idea. He's a dwarf, he's strong. He can handle this on his own. It's difficult enough to admit he's too weak to fetch himself food.]

If I could get that soon.

( filtered to Celebrian )

( Filter: Adonis Casey and Max Briest )

( Filter: Saul Goodman )

[ VIDEO ]

Good people of Exsilium, I greet you all on this fine eve. I would inquire after the recommendation of a well and trusted smithy... One who can be trusted with a fine jewel as much as he can be trusted with a sword.

I must also wonder if any might know the location of a good hall worthy of banquets and all grand forms of entertainment. Only the size is a necessity... I am certain the rest can handle itself readily.

Should any procure any answers to these curiosities, I would be most grateful.

_{( Remy’s hanging out in what passes for one of the classier taverns, leaning back in a wooden chair as his hair falls over his eyes. He’s eyeing the communicator a little devilishly, and, as ever, he’s shuffling a deck of cards. And though the process is constant, he eventually pulls out exactly the card he meant to: the Ace of Diamonds. )}

Diamonds are called Coins, sometimes. If it was gonna be an element, it’d be Earth. Has ta do with the physical, your body an’ your wealth. People who do work like that, too—merchants, traders.

Sometimes it jus’ means you’re an achiever. Y’like gettin’ things done.

_{( He nods, solemnly, before replacing the card in the deck and continuing with his shuffling. He pulls out the Ace of Clubs, next. )}

Clubs’re different. Called Wands, in the old days. They’re Fire, willpower. People who do hard work, wit’ their hands. If you’re someone who likes destruction, that’s your suit. But that’s no so bad. The world needs breakin’ down an’ buldin’ up.

_{( Another nod, another tilt of his head. The next card is the Ace of Hearts. )}

Hearts’re special, some people think. Used ta be called Cups. They gotta do with Water, with emotion. People who do things spir’tually.

Hearts’re socializers. They like other people, more than things.

_{( He kisses the card lightly before shuffling it back in, pulling out the last. The Ace of Spades. )}

Now, Spades. Also called Swords, sometimes. They’re Air, freedom. But wit’ that comes unpredictability. If you’re a Spade, y’like havin’ authority. But that comes wit’ responsibility, an’ consequences.

Spades’re explorers. They like the unknown, seekin’ out what they might be ‘fraid of o’ what might bring ‘em joy.

_{( That card goes back into the deck, too. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. Remy smiles at the communicator once more. )}

So, here’s a question. Which’re you?

[The video flickers on upside-down for a moment before Spike flips it over after a little squinting. He looks pretty annoyed, slightly tired, and sort of disappointed with everything in general.]

Alright. I have a little question for you all, in case anyone knows for sure.

Does the sun in this godforsaken place ever come fully out at all? I hope it does. Because if this is really a whole new world, then I've finally found a place where the sun doesn't immediately set me on fire if I step into it. Or that's how it should work, anyway, I think. But then if it turns out that the sun barely shows up anyway... what good does that do?

[He makes a disgusted sound and waves a hand.] That would really make my day, wouldn't it. If it honestly is just all rain and gloom every day, that's another thing to strike out while I'm searching for one single redeeming quality that this bloody place has. That search is getting old very quickly, as a side-note.

Anyone have an answer?

I don't suppose there are many hobbits here. Or any for that matter.

[ He still hates this tab… let thing; technology, what… is that? Either way, he's seated somewhere that's quaint and small and unassuming – his bedroom perhaps? - and there, he's staring down at the tiny camera, fingers fiddling at the hard backing of the device. ]

We're hardly a thing to notice, unless you're looking down, far down, but there isn't much sense in watching one's feet while going. Quite a few of you know that well, hm? [ He hasn't been bumped into as much lately, but that first day in the courtyard… – You guys know who you are.

Clears his throat now, lips pursing, then twisting, then flattening through a shuffle of expressions that border on excessive. At least he's seated and his hands are busy rapping, otherwise he'd have straightened his neck scarf, vest and jacket twice as of now. ] I meant to ask… – I believe a mistake's been made with my being brought here, for hobbits are not well-suited for… whatever business this is. We know gardening and eating and smoking the finest… – [ A pause. Right. The topic is making a wide arching turn to the left and he really ought to bring it back. So. Ahem. ] … But I've noticed there's a, ah, variety of… types here. I've never been quite as well informed when following the relations of you bigger folk, so…………… how is everyone making along? Are – ah, I suppose it would be we – … are we all amongst agreeable company?

[ aka do dwarves hate elves or elves hate men or men hate everyone here too? Because being bffs and singing kumbaya in horrid surroundings sounds so much better. ]

[ Bucky has the communicator on some sort of table, level. He's sitting down in front of it, evidently in a good mood. In the background, there's an old-timey looking radio playing. It cackles with static, but you can just make out a torch song. ]

I dunno how many of you know this, but it's a regular holiday where I'm from. [ He smirks, but doesn't explain. ]

Anyway, I got to thinkin', what better way to celebrate than me taking all of your money? Or… candy bars, or whatever else you got to stake. I'm flexible. I'll take 'em all.

How many of you know how to play poker?

[ The radio buzzes out, and Bucky hits it, once, hard. The sound comes to life again, now an official sounding broadcast. "The objectives of the Initative consist only in ruling by the sword, sowing the see of death and desolation until the take over power. They would then rule by the sword, that is their objective. We my therefore wonder how people who came with the confessed objective of shedding our blood, in our cities, can deceive the population by claiming to bring democracy and freedom. How can anyone claim to bring salvation—"

The broadcast dies. ]

[HELLO EXSILIUM IT IS A WONDERFUL DAY. Absolute shame you can’t see it because the only thing visible on the screen is a close up of a tortoise’s butt slowly wiggling across the screen as Clyde plods along. You’re welcome. However, sound still works and you can clearly hear a British man (Sherlock) speaking.]

--don’t quite feel like drawing it out today.

[So, dear Exsilium, even though you can’t see it (and be thankful you can’t), a rather scantily clad lady of the night is straddling Sherlock with a riding crop clenched between her teeth since she’s using her hands to unhook the bra she’s wearing before tossing it aside just as the sound of someone else entering the room occurs.]

Sherlock are you -

[Unfortunately, it’s tossed aside just as the door opens and Joan enters the room. Also unfortunately for Joan, the bra smacks her right in the face.

Clearly this lady of the night has very good aim.

Cue the silence, ladies and gentlemen. Oh, and have some wiggling Clyde butt as well.]

...Really? Really?

Hello, Watson. Care to join us?

[There’s a considerably frosty silence that occurs until there’s sounds of someone picking up their clothes.]

I’ll come back next time, unless you feel like paying extra.

[The sound of heels clicking against the hardwood clatter past, but not before pausing, and there’s a partial image of a manicured hand plucking a very lacey bra that’s hanging from Joan’s crooked finger visible between the gaps the tortoise butt is leaving as he makes his way across the communicator. HOOKER OUT.]

I mean, really I shouldn’t be surprised anymore but that was not what I expected when you gave me a duplicate of your house key -

[There’s the sound of a chair being shifted as he shuffles back to where he’s got his lockpick so he can free himself.]

I’m sure you’ve noticed the people’s less than enthusiastic response to us here following that incident last month. I believe sex workers are the key to rebuilding positive relations.

I’m going to stop you right there because I am not having this conversation with you. In fact, I’m just going to leave.

[Whether or not this conversation is going to continue doesn’t matter as by this point, Clyde has made his journey over the screen and kicks the communicator to the ground. You can now see Joan standing in front of Sherlock while he sits handcuffed to a chair, shirtless. Both of them turn to look at the source of the noise and Joan shuffles over to check it out.]

Sherlock -- !

[There’s a look of horror on her face as she realises what just happened and then the feed cuts out.]

[ooc: red is Sherlock, blue is Joan and black is the hooker. Sherlock and Joan will both be replying to the posts, unless you’d just like a specific one! Just wait for Sherlock to pick his handcuffs.]

I miss home. I know that's normal, I know - I know there's nothing that can be done about it. I try to keep that in mind so it won't get to me so much. Everyone is so nice and helpful, even with everything going on. I'm very thankful, and - I would like to think I have made some friends.

[There's a pause, and he sighs softly. He suddenly isn't sure why he decided to start this feed.]

It's weird... one of the things I miss the most is hearing my language. [a little exhale, followed by a contradictory smile.] I wasn't used to speaking English for so long until I came here.

... Are all of you from English-speaking countries?

[She's not directly looking at the camera, more off to the side. It's not exactly easy to admit when she's wrong, though she doesn't actually consider herself wrong. She just wasn't particularly swayed on why she should fight with the Initiative.]

I don't much like their methods, and I would as soon as shove my spear in any one o' them higher ups here, in the Initiative for what they've done to us, but-- [Her jaw tenses all the more.]

I understand.

[Her eyes flicker back to the screen.]

I want t'know 'bout this Earth, these United Earth, yeah?

( ( private to Thorin, Remy, and Galadriel ) )

( ( private to Gwen ) )

W̷̴̨̜̥̗̟͚͇͕̹̗̻̝̯̠̺̰̼̏̽̋̆̃͆ͮͨͪͫ̋̊͋͒͂ͦͯ̓͟͡e͒ͩ̒ͤ̓̽̀ͭ̽̂͌́ͫ̓͋͑͏̸̵̝̹͖͓͈͔̥̬͙͍̟̜͓͎͢͜ ́̐́̐ͯͥ̓̿ͩ̽̏̽̒͏̵̱͚̥͈̱̣̼͇̟͘͜n̸ͣ̓ͨ̐͌̎ͥ̑͆͂ͥͪ̉̊͆̌ͤ͏̖̣̯͖͖͟͞o̸͉̮̲̩̗̺͕͕͓̠͎̤̤͓̭͙͚̺͖̒̇̄ͮ̏̀͠w̧͑͆̓̈́͂ͩ͑̈̂̍̀̎̿̓ͧͯͭ͒͏͇̘̱͇͉̩̘̝̳͔͎̦̠͎̱̫̝͈ ̫͕͚̱̥͕̰̟̏ͬͣ̊͢͡͝͞i̶̿ͫ̌̍̆̊̈́͑̉ͧ̒̑͏҉̩͉̯̣͓͉ͅn̶̴̝̬̩̥͔̹ͯ͊͛̏̂̑̒ͬ͊ͭ̈̊ͧͫͮͣ̊̀́͟͜ţ̷̟̺͔̠̫̭̦͉͈̱͑ͩ͗ͪ̈ͨͨͮ̏͐͗̒͆͌͊͐́̀͠ȩ̵͉̟̖̰͉̲̖̼̝̲̪̩͕̫͎̲͂ͬͪ́͒̽̌̎̿̚͢͢ṟ̭͙͖͍̰̼̻̬̱͍͈͉̞̋͌̈́̑̑̈́̓̈̽̀̀̈́́̿̾ͯ͘̕ͅr̵̨̞̭͔͇̖͖̳͎̝̮̲̎ͬ̃̑ͩ̕͡͡ṳ̴̙͚̯͚̮̉̽̔̅̎̒͡p̴̦̻̤̝̘͉̟͖̈́ͩ̏̆̊̇ͫͮͫͧͧͮͭ̐͒͜͟͢ͅt̉̎̈́ͪͥ̀̆ͪ̅͗͒̇̐͏̸͙̦̻̖̱̺̯̘̦̹̗̦̯̹̗͡͞ ̶͎̹̣̳̦̪͕̬̞̼̣̼̰͍̗͇̋ͤ̔̓̎̀́͡ͅt̸̨̛͈͎̗̙͈̄͒͌͌̄ͮͫ̎̔ͪ͒̎̓̂͒̎͝͞h̨͔̬͇̮̱̰̰̹͖̱̟̻͎̰̯̫̎̑̓ͨͬ̍̈͂͑͝͡ͅi̷ͧ̇̌͒̌͆̈̋̆ͯͬ̓ͮ͆̂͛̓̚͢͝҉̤̩̬̦̙̠̤̼̞̝̟͉̠͕͚̬̜͈s̷̴̶̶͋̍̍͒͏̫̥̤̮̙̺͙̼͖͉̖̱͉̰ͅ ̸̵̜͉̼̫̳̖͍͚̞̜̙̯̘ͨ̅̉̎̔̂̅̀̕b͓͓͖̬͍͈̲̥̒ͫ̍͛̕͜ͅŗ̛̖̼̆ͨ͛̑͌̈͐ͧ̔͌ͨͅo̠̘̦͍͈̩̺̩̞̘̼̩̮͍̰ͬ̓ͬͪ͑̄̆̏̇̓̍̈ͭ̏̔́̀̚a̵̢͙̲̦̤̻͙̠̜͖͎̤̰͓̩͈̹̮̔̽ͭ̃̄ͦ̏ͦ͐̀̒ͬ̂͛́͗ͪ͑̐ͅdͤ̀̓ͭͪ̍̾͂ͩ̃̔̌̄̂̏ͣ̚͏҉̯̩͍̙̠͖̫̟͓̘̬͎̞̣̰̲ç̟̳̳̥̽̓ͧͯͬ̆̈́̏̍̈͜͞a̸̴̢͙̙͖̠̠̯͕̞̭̤̣̳̤͖̪̻̮̋ͬ̾̇̾̏͌ͦ̓̾̐̒̽̍̒̉̀́s̷̵̙̤̫̹͑ͩͧ̓͒ͦ̍ͨ̓̚̚ţ̶̹̱̯̪̜̥̼̽ͭ͐͊ͭͬ͊ͤ̈̃̈ͦͬ͗ͨͣ͜͡ ̷̵̟̜̮̤͓͙̥ͬ̔̍̓ͥ̐̈̇͌̏t̵̷̲̳̜̺̖̲͙̠̙̳̔ͩ̆ͬͯͧ͘͘ǫ̢̗̳̪͕̥̮̣͌͌͒̈̐̅̔͒̅̾ͨ̉͝ ̴̸̺͍̣͔̩͉̗̻̖̭͙̦̟̪̣̂̍͆͋̾̈́̌ͮ͐̎̎̀̌͂ͪ̀ͪ̚b̡̫̠͔͉̝̣͓̞͙̝͍̣̖̜̦̈ͯ̆̂͒̃͗ͧ̉̿̆̚͢ŗ̥̗̥̻̬̝̞͕͖̖̼̬͙̬̼̫͈ͭ̏͌̋ͮ̒̇͋͌̿ͩ͟ͅi̮̰͙̖̰͉̰̠̜̯̖͙̺͙̱͔̦͛̆͊͑̆ͯͦ͢͜ͅn̶̴̶̜̞͔̲̹̣͈̱̬̈ͦ̏ͯ͜ģ̯̣͇͇̳̜̤̘͆̈́̇͂̆͒͗͜͞ ̨̹̲̘̤͙̼̫͚̞̪͎͕͆͛͑̄ͥ͑̐ͮͫ̓̀͢͞yͩͫͥͪͣ͐ͣ͛ͦ҉̵̳̭̯͇͍̻̭͕̭̼̹͇̘͞͝o̴͈͓̠͉ͤ̋̓̉̒̊̍͌̚͜u̸̶̬͕̤̞͚̦̘̞̪̯͕̜͍̝̘͔̱̞̣̾̍̉ͬͨͩ̅͆̿͊̒ͫ̆̋̾͆́̎͘͡ ̷̴̣͚͎̣̰͕̹̳̥̹̯̦̠ͫ̃̓̂̌̿̾͆͆ͣ̍̆ͥͦ͆̃̋͠ͅa̴̵̳̗̞͓̻̰̜͙͛̎̈̂̄ͧ̃͠ ̢̢̰̫̞̱ͫ͊̌͒̽͊̄̌̐̊ͩ̐̚͘͘f̴͇͈̭̥͈̯͓̤͔̯̔̿ͦ́̉ͤ̆ͧͦͧ̎͒ͦ͆͐̾͂͑̀̀͝r̡̭̳̯͈̘̗͖̹͙̺̭̭̗̠͆ͥͭ̓̓͂ͤ̐̒ͭ̎͌͊͐̊̽͒̚͘͞͞ȋ̴͍͇̼͍̖̻͓̺̗̙̯̺̦ͧ͒ͣ͋̈̾ͬ́̓ͪͧ͐̈́̚͞e̸̔̓̈̈̓ͪ̏ͮ̔ͬͬ̏̏͘͜҉̘͕͈͚̤̟̰ṅ̸̨̛̲͉̯̝̪̪̩̫̭̾̏͊̂͑́̍̀̊̐͊̈͌ͤ̂̚͟ͅd̛͑͂ͫ̽ͮ̎͗ͥ͆̃̄̍ͬ͒̋̇̓̉͏̨͓̬̭̣͍͈͟͟ľ̵̡̠̦͉̤̠͚̻̝̞̱͛̆͒̔̌̍̄̐̈́ͧ̾ͬ͂́́͝ͅy͑ͣ̋̍́ͮ̿̅ͭ̓ͭ͋̓͊ͩ̇̈̚҉̵̵̦̳͉͍̠͖̱̙͈̲͙͓̫͍͓̝͟͟ ̸̧̢̞̟͕͔̥͇̺͑̔ͫ̔̍ͦ̋̑͜m̷̉̿̆͛̏̈͆̈ͤ̊ͣ̍ͪ͐̽҉̴̮͔̠̟̥͚͉̥͝è̡͎̪͎̻ͧ͑̍ͧ̃͋ͤ̉̈̉̒̂ͪͤ̿͌̃̀͢͞s̵͎͇͓̼͙͙̰̭̲͖̯̯̳̠̦̮͇̗̐͌̌͂̽͆̃̊̇ͫ̈̓͊̋͘͠͝s̱̣̼̱͓̲̒̔ͪͯ͛̀͢ͅā̡̧͇͚̖̙ͫ̉̚g̛ͤ̊͒͐ͤ̊̈̉͘͏̷̨̟͚̪̖̪͙̲͖̪̜e̽̾̂͛̆̔̋̊ͨͧ̌̈́̈́̚҉҉̞̝̟͉̫̤̜͓̱̦̥̮ͅ ̡̧̖͔͔͙̖͍̪͖̥̣̯͉̖̿ͯ̅͋ͦ̈́ͫ̑̅ͅo̸̷͍͙͔̘̗̬̘̖̥̲̬̫͖͍̱̝̺̓̿́̿ͥͅͅf̞̩̬̙̼̙͔̞̯̭̘͒̿ͪ̋̀͘͢͝ ̶̢̗͕̳̰̬͑̏́̓́̉ͮ͗ͯͬ̑̃ͧ͂̈̊͋̂̚͝͞y̷̬̣̟̤̣̱̞̦̟ͪ͑ͬ̾̆̾́ͫͦͪ͌̽ͪ́͟ͅͅo̵͈̤̘̥̻̝͍̪̰̼ͯ͛̽ͨ̕͟͠ư̶̬̦͈̬̤̻̖̩̮̌͊͐̆ͣ̓̆̉̿ͦ̒̐ͩ͢ͅr͎̗̲͉͔͈͙̫̭͇͙͖̲ͣͦ̉̌̀͟ ͗̈̉ͤͣͬ̃ͪ̉͊̇ͥͩͮ̚͏̴̛̜̘͕̥̩͇͢͡t͌̈̇́ͧ̆ͥ̄̀ͤ̍̌ͬ̀ͬ̏͑ͦ̚͜͏̴͕͎͙̳͙͍͍̮̝͕͓̮ͅî̧̙̪͎͍̠̖̹̳̱͇̪͕̤̳̼͈͚̌̉ͦ̌̏̓͐̽̋̕͞m̶̅̅̊̾̍̊ͥ͗̓̊͏̺͖͎̯̞͠e̛̹̤̜̱̣̖͕̪̳̙̜͑ͧͤ͆͋̔͜͞ĺ̨̞̖͈͉ͦ̉̈̾ͨ͊ͩ̀̚͜y̵̶̻̺̣̟̭͙͉͍̻̱͓̟̾̇ͤ̆̋͌̾͜͠ ̷̡̺͕̙̝̜͉̳͓̃͋̑ͧ͘͘͘d̸̸̢͈͓̲̮̳̦̞̹̼͓͖͙̮͓̫͚ͪ̋͑̉́ͮ͒̒́ͭͭ̾͂̉̀̆̕ǫ̜̟͇̳̦̬͍̺̘̹̎̐͂̿ͧ͒̈́͟͢ͅo̩̠͎͉̙̮͈̫̺̞͖̺̝̦͉ͪͤ̽̅͆́͜͟m̸̴̵͔̦̝̳͉̳̥̪͔̗̖͈̮̤̔͆ͧ̄͛̏̍̍

Warning. Warning. As of 2100 hours, the island of Exsilium has been placed under complete and total quarantine. Any and all individuals caught attempting to leave the quarantine zone will be immediately executed. We repeat, any and all individuals caught attempting to leave the quarantine zone will be immediately executed.

O̵̓ͤ̀̾̌ͭ͒ͭ̔͑̑̔ͮ̈҉̸̙͖̩͚̻̪͔̤̙̙͙̥̻p̷̷̡̗͔̬̠͚͇̼̩̥̘͎̳̟̙͔̥̜̒́̐͛͞ͅȩ̴ͭ̅͑͋́͏̙̜̭͈̦̹͇̠̦̣̤͈̝̲͙͓̲̲ͅṛ̢̛͚̖̖̬̱͍͎̱͓̼̖ͧ̋ͧ̄ͯͣ̈́ͫ̆ͥ̒́̚ã̷̴̡͓̰͓̪̭̩̬̙̜ͧͦ̄̈́̋̚͞tͪ̈́͑ͫͤ̿ͫ͋ͭ͂̍̌̀̈̚͜͠͏͙̭̖̫̬͉͙̼͎̣̱͍̱i̴̝̟͍̣̥͉̙̦̖̩̼̭̞̩̜̥̥̓̒ͭͦ̒́̽̌͐ͨ̌ͨ͞͞͡ǫ̴̡̟͚̩̺̖͇̩̣̞̯͖̪̓̾͑͂ͭͭ̌̕͢n̡̼̟̺̉̌̎̍̊͊ͧ̆̀́ͅ ̷̛̮͉̦̞̜͒̒͑͆͑̑ͯͫ̕R̵̷̥͕̳̹̫̬̟̤͍̱̜͓̹̙̺͍̼͊̔̈ͮ̋ͫ͌̄̑̈́̀͢a̛͈̦̱͎̦̮͈͎̳̪͚̬͖̫͔ͪ̇͂̅ͦ̌ͥ̔ͨ̇͗͂͛̏͟t͑͗͋̓̀͋ͩ̇̒́̀ͩ̔̅̈́͂ͯ̿͌͝͠͏̷͍̣̪͍̩͈̣ͅs̢̛̲͓̣̝͓̱̖̩̖̻͎̠̮ͦ̄͑̔̊ͧ͛ͨ̄͗̎ͨ̚͘͞͠ ̢̞̤̥͓̺͍͔̩̻̦̪̙͔̺͓̦̭͎͈̊͆ͣͫ̓͂́͆̊̈́̇̀͘N̤̙̗̟̺̻̪͖̰̈́͗̏̿͌̾̄̈́̂́̀͘èͧ̉̉ͫ͂͏̴̠̤͈̞̙̪̲͡s̵̵̙͖̹̝̲͔̬̰ͩ̃́͗̊̅͘͢͠t̐̄͗͋͏҉̡̖̘̜͓̤̠̠̟́́ ̱̝͍̤̳͈̪̹̖̞̪̑͂ͤ̈́ͣ͐̏̾̾̋ͤ͛́̕͜į̤̼͓̬̳̗̙͖̻͇̯͍ͫͩ̋͊̈ͫ͑̐̒̐̕͘͞͝ͅn̷͕̘̜̭̙͇̤̤̰̭͓̂̾͆͛̋̽̊ͤ̃͗ͭ͗̚͟͢͞i̴̵̹͕͚̙̹̬͛́ͮ͋ͮ̉̌̍͛͘ṯ̥̦̝̮͉͉̤́͊̔̎̉̕͜i̵̢̯̳̞̮̬̳̍̅ͪ̄̈̃̓̏a̸̡̪̱͉̗̳̖͌̃̉̄̽͛ͦ̔̉̅̽ͣͅtͬ͆̽̑͗ͪͣͩ͊̿̒̋͛ͭ҉̪̻͇͚͕͓͇̮̦͓͓̀̕i̛ͬ́̒̏̈́̅̈͌͗͐ͪ̈ͣ͋̒͏͏͏̵̙̘̝̦͇͔̱̗͉̦̟̻̬n̶͎̝͚͈̝̤̻̺̘͍̫͔̭̋́͛͒̀̊̍̍̿̂ͭ͑ͦ͘g̓̓͊̆̓̽ͨ̒̒ͪͬ̋̚͢҉̷̰͙̞̣̩͖͠ ̶̢͙̥͚̩͊͌̿̋̆̓̑̓́͋͋̄͞i̸̧͋ͯ̂̾̄̎̇͛̋̑͘͟҉̥̤͔̼̖̟̜̼̘̺̟̖̳̠̖͍ṇ̴̶̢̩̩͔̟̝͎̼̜̟͉͙ͪ̆̿ͮ̓̓ͮ͝ ̸̮̺̰̥̣̯͖͍̣̰̰̯̜͙̟ͤͮ̓ͪ̓̈́̀̇́̐ͮ̈́͊ͥͬ̐͆͟7̷̡̡̋̇̆̉̓̌ͯ̒ͤ̈ͨͥͪ̿ͥ̈̌̽͏͍̼̰̩͔̯̝̪ͅ2̢̋̌͌̾ͨ̓̍̈̄ͪ̈ͫ͏̢̬͙̤̣̲̣̼̩̥̘͔̠̩̪̮͟͡ ̃̿̎̔̑̃̐̓ͪ͞͏̗̣̳͙̼̬̤̰̲͚sͮ͌̆̐̉̉͟͏͓̖̟͔̩̘̹̜́͠t̵̢̢͎̟̪̦͎̤͍̱̺̰̪͉̯̞̎ͪ͗ͪ̓͂̈́̓̇̂̈́̐͆̆ͯͭͤͥ͜͡a̵͙̞͇̮͆ͬͦ̎ͪ̅ͧ̊̐̈͝ń̵̢̧̩͖̯͖͙̺̥̱̾́̈ͭͯͭ̀̕ͅd̶̸̛̼̰̜̖̫̜̜͚̊̊̈͊̍̂̑̀ͭ͐͆̋ͩ̇ͫ͢ạ̢̪̩̟̾̊̈́͆͘͞r̴̹̺͙̻͕̙̈̆ͯ͋̅͌̄̃͐͑͗̓̒ͦ͆͊͐̓̚͘͝͞͡d̷̨̦̻̯̜̠̣͋̒̇͐͌̀́ͧ̽̓̓̈͊̔̅̉ͦ̚ ̸̲̤͍̘͎̲̖̝͙̜̦̘̥̟̝ͫ̏̑̿ͥ̐̽ͥ͋͠h͙̥͔̥̤̱̱̭̫̳̮̥͈ͯ͑͌̌̅͊͜͝ͅͅͅo̶̅ͥ̾ͫ͜҉̶̬̣̞̩̭̞̭̙͉͓̻̝͈̹͙̝͝ũ̅̓̋̋̉̉̉͋̐͌҉̵̡̬͔̞̞̯̕ͅr̵̪͔̫̞̱̟̼͐͒̂̽͋ͩͭ̆͒ͣ̾̇ͮ̽ͭ͐̎͐s̷̿̍͋͂̾̆̏͛̒͋̿̏̉̄̊ͩͦͤ̀̚͏̜͚̲̘̘͜
̴̴͈̫̝͈̟̥̜̳͉̖̘̝͕̤̠ͨͧͭͦͥ̐̿̄ͭ̊ͥ̚͡R̷̢̧̺͉̱̰̩̻̫̰̳̫͍͚͉̫̠̤̣͒ͣ̋ͨ́́̚ͅe͉͚̩̯̼̤̺̹̞̦̩͉̪͎̜̠̊͒̃ͥ̔̌ͩ̿̔͂̍̄͆́͢͢͞p̸̵͍̰͓̻̭͇̺̲̖̱̠͓̋̽͆ͩ͆ͦͩ̽ͤ͡eͦ̀̈́͌ͩ̍̒̀͢͝҉̼͈̞̣͙̣̜̟̙̣͕̻̤͔̥̗̺̼͟a̧͈͚̹̼͙̗͔̞͒͋̌͒̅͞ţ̨͑̀͑ͤͩͪͩͨͩͤͫ̑ͯ͌ͮ̎̀͏̗̳̥̲͟ͅ,̴̴̛͎͍̪̫̞̠̤͓͕͓͍̞̦͔̈̀̌͛ͨͮͭ̏̉̅̓̑́ ̢͕̖̼̠̯̠̯̪̖͇̮̠̜͙̣͉͕ͫ̒̇ͧ̔̐̊̐͛͢O̪̖̺͕̫̜̘̱͓͔̫̬̖͚̟̤̩ͨ͌͋͊̀̃̅̒͘͞͞ͅp̸̨͕̝̻̫̯͇͇͇̫̣͚̼̞͒͆͒͑ͣ͑̚͘ė̷͙͕̳̖̜ͫ͋̓ͧ̿̓̓̄̀́̎͐͊̈́͡ŗ̷̴͉̯͓̙̺̰͇͆̒̍̏͂ͪ̅̽̃̀͌̾̾̃ͩ̄ͤͤ́͠ā̶̛̄͋͂͐̃̽̈́͛͒͛ͮ͛̎͜͡͏͎̲̗̭͈͖̥̘̳͕̪͕ͅͅẗ̵̷͉̬̺̥̰̥̬͓̦̟̠̊̏͌̿ͭͬ̀͌̃̄̓ͮ̆̽͊̆͜͜͡ͅi̿̔ͯ̐͛̊ͯ͌ͬ҉̨̲̠͕̦̤̖̱̣̙͈̟̺̭̭̩̖̲̬̱o̙̜͔̣̘̐͛̓ͣ̈́͌͋͂̉͊͛̽͒̽̂ͭ̚͘͢n̠̳̥̘͚͔̥̥͖͈̦̳̺̗̮͓̅̍͌̊̊ͬ́͝ͅͅ ̨͓̺̼̭̱̹͕̟̙̺͐ͩ̿͒ͦ̇͑̉̎̿̉͐ͨ͂ͣ͒̔ͤ̆R̞̣̞̥̬͇̭͇ͥ̋̈̎̊̍̅ͯ̔̍̒͂̿̇́̚̕͡a̽ͬͮ̇ͤ͝͏̱͙̦̺̺̝̟̮͓̦̱̝tͯͫ̑҉͜͏̸͏̮̲̰̘͖̙̞͓̫͍͔̫̼̮s̸̶̄͋ͭ̊̏͏̨̳̩̭̙̥͕̝͝ ̘̩̟̤̙̖͚͇̖͈̯͔̝̯̟̮ͧ͌̈̆͛́̀̃͛ͣ̿̎͠͞N̛͓͚̘̙̭̻̭͊̄ͮ̄̄ͪ̆̓ͬ̽ͅę̵̴̦͖̞͕̬̰̟̳̫͚͓̳̱̩̺͑ͬͬ̓̿̿͊ͧ́̂ͣ͋ͨ͆̍ͣͭ̄ͅͅs̴̶̼͔̥͈̭̭̝̰̻̖͚͈͇ͣ͛̉̅͒͂̿̄̂̔ͨ̍̎̃͝͡ț̶̛͈̯͙͚̠͚̮͋̽ͪ̒͌ͮ̅ͥ͛̇̄ͧͦ͊̅ͩ̓̂̀̕͝ ̶̡̨̣͇̥̠̯̣͖̯̮̍ͬ̇͌ͤ̾̃͢͝į̴̨̥̪͕̥͈̼̙̱̬̪̝̌̾̽̊͋̽̎̀͟ͅn̓̎͗̍̈́̓̅ͪ͐̏̍̏ͧ҉̷̷̬̼͖̬͇̥̣̱͔̥͖̲̝̙̹̙̼̥͝ĩ͙̲̹̜̻ͤ̓ͧ͂ͨ̀̐ͨ̂ͨͦ͋̋͘͟͡͠t̴̴̷̹̳̘̘̥̟̲̮ͧ̇̈́̉̽̏̏̑ͬ́́̕i̶̷̴̺̠̬̳̝̟̪͙͙͚͎̣͙̥̘̫̝͓͍̋̈͒̑̾ͤͤ̿̌ͭ͒̄͛̐́̚a̧̛̺͓̭̥̞̫̩͇͔̟̻̘͓̒̐̅ͭ̽ͯ̄̐̉̆̔̓̅̈̈ͧ̇̾͆t̢̻͎̪͖̳̬̱͔͇̰̗̱ͣ͑̾̃͌͋ͧͫ̔̓̊̓ͫ͋̚͟ͅi̶̛̼̙̖̺̫̹͕̻̗͚̭̺̗̩̖̳̩̗͐̔ͪͬͩ̀̐̈́ͥ̚͠ͅň̴͔̗̭̫̠̗̫̲̤̮̹̺̭͈̬͖̰̠ͮ̎̓ͩg̔̂̍͗̑̿̑͊ͨ͌͒̌́͏̶̛̳͔̘̪͔̳̩͎̯̹̖̗̮ ̴̨̛̦͕̭̗̬̝̺̥̭͇͌̈̈̃ͥ͐̄̈́ͣ͂ͧͣ͟i̷̶̗͈̹̥̣͙͉̤̭͙̟͉̺͍̥͔̹͋̅ͩͫ͂̃ͣͫͬ͂̓ͭ̂̕͞ͅn̽̿ͮ͒̓̉͋͘͝͏̠͈͎͜ ̴̵̸̝͇̱̗͉̪̮͍̦͒̅̏̀͂̅̎̉̂͋̎͞͡ͅ7̶̢̟͇̰̱͎̳̟̋͋̒̆͛͊̔̃͐ͩ̅̄͐ͭ̓͜͜͢2̛̤̗̯̳͙̠͕̈́̊̐ͩ̈ͬ͘͘͞ ̧̨̘͉̰͚̹̣̻ͥ͊̔͆̋̄͂̈́̐͜ͅs̨͂̆ͣ̿ͮ̀͋ͦ̕͠͝҉̖̠̹̩t̡̨ͮ̈̃̐̔͛͆̅̑̏ͤ̓ͮͩ̊̽̀͢͏̧̗̤̹͙̻̖̘̱͔̯a̅̈́ͨ̏ͧͧ̃͒͆͊̽̌̈́̽̾ͥͤ̚̕͞͏̖̰͈̰͉̙̰ň̸̢̧͚̹̻̬͚͇̘̝̻ͣ̽ͪͦ͐̓̅̒̽͗́̅̉ͦͭ̏͌͠d̶̯͔̪͇̼̘̞̬̪̅͊̓̋͛̑̂̆ͨ͐͠a̷̹̤̬̲͖̠̮̹̝̝̘̣̖ͤ̈́͂ͧͮͫ̈͑̄ͦ͌̾̇̌͜͝r͖͈̻̥͙͍͉̗͍̠̖̠͕͔͓̋ͤ̔̆͌̍̇̆͢ͅd̸̷̜̣̝͚̺̤̣͎̱̻͇͉̻̗̦ͧ̾ͯ̀ͤ̓́̈̈́ͣ͑ͤ̀̌̇̾́͘͝ ̶̛̦̝͚̹͓̖̥͇ͭ̏̄̈ͯ͆̉̑ͨ͢͠͞ḧ̴̺̫͓̖̦̣͖̗̪͔͉̝̩̹͍̘̭̤̱́̑̉͛̒͐ͬ̾ͬ̀ͩ̔̍́̋̚̚͜͠ǫ̡̰̬͇͉̘̦͎̍̽̔̐ͪ̋ư̵̡̡͇̰͖̠̳̭̮̈́̓ͪͣ́ͥ̄͑̓̂͡r̵̢͕͚̦̘͙̙̤̟̪̞̤̓̿ͨ͊ͤ͌̐͆̈͂͛͗͋̈͞s̋͊ͫͩͥ̋͛̌͒̊̉̄͛҉̠͔͍̬̲̫͚͔͓̫̤̥̲̟͠ͅ

Stand-by until further notice.
̨̨̛̼̭̪̪̮̥̪̲̜̗̮̐̈̾͛̌͐ͭͤ̄͊ͭͪ̔́͗̆̆̚ͅ
̨̯͍̖̣͚͒ͪͣ̏ͮͣͥ͢͢͠͠Ĉ̶̙̮̬͉̣̰͉̱͚ͥ̄̀̌͒ͫ̓̉ͣ͗ͣ̚͡o̴̢̰̭͕̝͚̥̙̭̫͙̪̮̝̺ͤ̉ͮ̊̇́̔̓͌͒́̌̊͊͌̔͗ͤ̚͢ͅd͇̤̟͕͙̖̲̤̼̜̽ͪ͛ͤͫ̽̍̉́ͦ̾̎͘͢͞ͅę̸̱̙͈̫̰̣̭̬ͪ͒̍̎̉̒̋͋̐ͥͤͥ̒̆ͬ̀̕ ̴̟͉͚͇̠̻͓̲̯̩̆ͧ̓̑̈̈͒̚ͅ4̷̛̦͍̣̼͛͗͌̑ͭͪͫ́̌ͦͧ̔͠1̨̧̤̠͙̩͉̣ͫ̓̓̒ͥ̔̿͐ͦ͋̓ͮ̌̊̐̅6̷̠̰͓̥̟̗̪̼͎͚̪͖̫͖̘̌̄͊̔ͧ͆̊͑̌ͦ̀
̍ͮ̉ͣ̄̐̇̊ͦ͂ͬ̅ͭ͒̇͐́̚͏̴̨̛͉̞̤̥̜̜̠̫̬̣̝͡ͅR̡̛̙͉̗͖̦̳̹̼̗̘̦̺̠̱͈͇͎͔̱͐ͪͭ̍͗̃̄̎ͣ͋͛̑ͬ̒̂ͬ͆́̚ęͦͦ̽̔̏͒͢҉͇͉͍p̷͎̬͚͒͂ͧͣ͂̉̀e̡̲̣̝̩̣̒̓̽̒̕͝ͅa̵ͪͥͨ̎̓̈́̄͆͐ͯ̊̈́̚̚̚͜͠҉̱̤̯͖̬͎͕̯̟̲̙̜̰͚̯͇̳ţ̴̢̙̞̳͇̙̘̼̩̮̭̗̝̩͔͗̈́̊̽̽ͯ͢,̧͆̎ͧ͒҉̞͍͎͍ ̖͎͔̦̩̞̪̼͓ͨ̿̈̍̅͑͒̍̓̓ͤ̈͂̾̂͗͒͆́͢͟͠͞C̶̱͓̣̣̮͈̟͖͈̣͖̥͔͚͍̙͕̈́ͬ͑̅̽ͤ͗̍̓͗͢͢ͅo̷̢̪͕̞̬͈̮̼͈̹̯̟͍̭͇̙̱̦͚ͥ̍ͨ́ͨ̎ͧ̅̑̊ͫ́͘d̸̴̥̬̞̜̪͖̩̟̰̟̬͉̪͖̠̬̏ͦ̉ͥ͐̿ͦ̇ͪ͟ͅͅȩ̸̲͕̭͇̘̫͙̻̳̬̟̜̱̩̦͕͖͛̆̄̎̇ͦ̂͐ͥ̄̆ ̸̸̎̑ͨ̑̈̓ͬ̋͂ͩͬ̂̏̋̑̿҉̶̴̳͍̩͙̮̺̼̣̣̩̬̰̞̠̟͎̭̠4̪̮͓̮̜̙̩͉͖͙̓ͨ͗̓ͣ̈́ͯ̎ͣͭ̅͋̍̎ͨ̈́̏͝1̵̢ͪͯͦ͊͐̓̑͆̋̆̑ͫ͋̔̽ͭͮ͊͢͏̞̝̞̳̥̰̹̜̘͉͈͈6̠̼̬͍̻̤̫̭̩͖͕̮̹̪̟͇͌̆̉͆̽̎́͜͠
̡̛̳̱͇͕͔͖̟͖̭̯͙͑ͫ͐̈́ͪ̅
̥͈̬͈͓̹̰͙͕̤̮͇̳̥̙̇̎ͬ͆̓́̎ͪ͌ͫͫ͞ͅA̎̍͆̓̔̈̔̈́̏͒̐ͯͣ̀͗ͤ͂ͩ̚͝͏̩̤̠̹͓̤̮ļ̸ͨ̄̋̋̔́̓́͝҉̫̳̰͈̜͖̜͕͚͓̯l̛̛̰̼̥̳ͣ̐͛̏͆́̊̓̚ ̷̮̻̹̹͓̙͈̣̹̣͔̖̣̮̺ͯ́̋ͮ͐͘͟à̶̡̢͉͔̭̹̤̬͈̙̖̣̯̗͙̫͈̐̄̅͐͋̍̒̀̄̍̒̓͘t̨̂̈͒̃͘͏̮͔͇̰̟̤̗͖́ţ͒͋̐̒͐ͭ̅͋͗ͩ͏̷͓̖͍̼̝̺͚͝ͅe̸͓͚̝̻̘̞͚̙̼͈͇̰͂̋ͧ͒ͧͮ̋̌̂ͣ̋̉̋̔͛͊̔͂́̚͟͠m̵̶̵̧̳͓̦̲̮̒ͪ̇ͫ͂̍ͫ̄̄͑ͭͨ̓͒͠p̷̢̬̗̭̪̩̠̮̏̈́ͭ͂ͥͣ̔̒̑ͮ̽̂́ͪ͒ͮͯ͜͡͡t̵͇͙͔̥̬͙ͨ́̌͂͑͂͋͗͗ͮ͟s̸̨̠̟͉̹̲̾ͣ̉ͮ̉͒͑̍̌̍͗̿̀̚͝ ͣͦ̎́ͥ̏ͥ͑̎̾̇ͤ̃͂͌҉̣̣̝̗͍͈̙͈̩̩͍̙͔̕ͅţ̛̺̤̱̬̣̬͙̝̜͔̘̠̖̙͉̒͋̔̎̽̒̕͢͜o͐ͣ͊͋̊ͫ̉͜҉̸̵̬̟̖̟͓̥͇̫̻͚͞ͅ ̴̨̼̭̭̙͍͙̹̘̣̟͕̺̏̓̽͒ͮ̃͐͌ͧ̓ͣͩ̈́͒ͥ̇̀̀͟ĺ̶̙̟̥̱̣̞͚ͦ́ͬ̔̿̔̚̕͟e̷̶͙̯̜̣̩̭̦̯̭̱͓̖̝̣̪̗͍̙͚ͧ̈̿ͣͯͧͮ͂ͦͯͯͮͮ̐̾́̚͜a̸̵̧ͯ͐ͯͬ͐̿̽̉ͩ̔̀ͫͯ͏͙̜̘̺͖̯̗͉͈v̸̛̬̙͙͎̰ͤ̆̋̚͞e̴͖̹̝̤̬̲̔̎̐ͮͪ̀̕͝ͅͅ ̸̧̡̠͇̲͎̪̜̙̙̦͚̝͚̰͈̺̊̒͛̑͂̇E̛ͮ͐̍̇ͫͩͧ̌͆ͤ̚͟҉̸͕͔͖̘̰͟x̢̛̳̤̘̙̿ͯ͌ͩ̆̈̀̕͢ş͉̫̙̜̱̟̼̪͖̹̝̪̯̠̟ͨͧ̏ͧͣ͂̒͌͘i̡̛̜̲͉̠̥̣͚̰͔̖̩̘͕͖̰͗ͤͣ̃̎͒̐ͤͦ̍ͦ͆͆̒̂͌̒̔̀͠͝l̡̛̲͇̻̪̝͍̳͈͍̣̯̮̝̙̰̅̍̈̉͛ͭͤ̓̆́͐ͦ̿̄ͬ͊ͭͬ̇i̢̭͈̱͖͔͍͓̗̊ͬ̓ͦͧ̂ͥ͂ͮ͒̅ͨ͆̄̚̚̕͟ů̴̢̠̝̙͙̗̖̳̭̼̠̣̾̏͆͆̕͝͝m̧͉̟͎͓͖͔̤̮͇͈̦͈̭̻̟͈͉̻̑ͦ͆̐ͯ͌͛͆̋ͯ͌̒̄ͩ̒̉ͧ̌͝ ̶̨̦̦̬̼̠̮͔̥͚͚̩̳̖̩̯̭̩̒̔̓͒͒͒͌͝w̷̨̩̜̤̹̹̞̘̟̺̎͐́̒͑ỉ̵̸̷̢͙̱͈̰̫̯̫̪̮̼̇̎͆̎̒̐͐͠l̷̨̢͍͙̱̘̣̫͇̲̥̯̱̟̣̩̺͙̂͒̔ͥͮ́͗̔̓͑̊́͢l̴̶̛̻̼̻̮͕̟̻̠̬͉̞̤̹̻͚̞̘̣̝͗ͨͧ͒͑̄̚̕ ̡͙̥̖̩̘͓̻͓̜̠͍͕ͨ̈̅̑̎ͤ͒ͣͤ̓ͧͤ̍́b̸ͦͫ̈́ͫ̒ͪͩ̔͋͂̑̅̒ͨ̃͝҉̱̜͎̩̺̜͔͎̯̰̳̭́e̸̟̻̤̬̩̘̘̙̲͉͕ͩ͌ͬͬͬ̓ͧͫ͌ͬͮͪ̓͟͝͞ͅ ̸̶̹̭̜̙̤̲̳̹̝̹͕͒̓̎ͧ̏͗͗̇͂ͧ̑̐ͤ͂͒ͧ͘m̧̡̭͔̜̘̱̹̼̬ͨ̍͗ͩ̏̊̐́̈́͛̓ͥ͠ͅe̸̝̟͕̜̫̱͙͇̮̦͙͓̤̻͍̟̩̔͛̔ͦ̂̎̃̃t̸͑̊ͥͬ́҉̩͈͕͙̳̝̞̘̝͎̜̬̮̘͉̯̩̲ͅ ̷̢̝̲̰͇͇͓̙̹̖̻͍̥̜̭̹̗̯̜̀̉́̽͂͗͗̇͜w̵͇̠͓̗̻͎̟̬̺̠̻̲̿͆͋ͦ͗̓̈͢͝i̵̛͈̱̝̥͙̯̭̤̘̹̩͖͂̈̐͌̌ͬ͆ͤ̐̿͑͘ţ̒̌ͧ̾̊̐͏̣̤̝̭̞̣͕̮̫̠͇ḩ̵̢̤̙͖̭̩̺̰͈̫̺͍̼̬̯ͣͭ̾ͯͯ̌͂̈́ͦͮ̚͜ ͧ̎͐̊̊̊̓̉͒́ͯ҉̧͍̮͙̹̩̜͇̮̠̳̙̯̱͔͟͞͠ṣ̶̨̳͖̗̙͕͔͕͎̳͓̣̞̮̪̫͉̎ͯͬͦͭ̍̉ͤ̊̄̎̈́̅ͯͯ̓̑̂́ȅ̸̶̡̞̲̞̳͉̼͍͖̬̰̌ͮ̆ͥ̂͋͆ͮ̑̇̿̚̕͜v̡̛̤͙̪̙̫͙ͤͥ͒ͮ̃̔ͬ̇̕̕è̡̝͙̯͍̦͕̆͗͊̀ͤ̄̓ͩ̉̽̏͌̐ͩ̃̓͠ř̸̛̯̙̹͕̠̟̣̼̂̄͐͆̇̄ͅe̷̻̘͚̜͖̹̦͑ͬ̏ͮ̀ͨ͌̿̋̿ͬ͒ͭ̇̓̕ ̶̡̩̦͔̩͚͖͕̣̭̦̦ͯͥͧ͆͒̽͂͂̉̓̏ͧͭ͑̍̓̚͠p̵̞̙̜͕͉̫̤̻͖̜͈̹̜͖͔̗̥͛͌̑̓͑̈́̀́͢rͧ͗̈́͊̾̿ͦͧ̔ͧͯ̏̈́̌͐͞҉̷̴̸̘̼̝̳̲͉͖̜̼̮̯ḛ̢̥̲͔̩̤̮̱̪̻̪̟̤̌̏ͮ̑ͧ͛ͬͥ̌̆ͦ̓ͯͫ̏͢j̸̛͉͇̖͓͓̙̼̼̹̞̙̯̫͍̓̑ͭ̊͂ͬ̃ͬ̽ͣ͆̈̾̚ụ̡̰̖̻̣̰̤͉̞̩͊͌̏ͦ̇̎̍͘͟ͅd̍̈̄͗̇͢͜͏҉̤͖̘͈̦̩̭̯̤͔͎͈̳iͨ͋͌̐͊̓̒ͨ̎͗̉̏̆͑̈̚͝͏̴̛̳͇̳̟͚̻̣̫̀ć̟̠̭̲͚͍͈̹̳̜͈̝͊̐ͤ̏͆ͨ̃̉ͦ͒̓ͣ͒̂ͤ͘͜͟͟ẹ̡̛̻̖̟̲̝̼̻̄ͩͯ́̽̎͑̒̕͟

Unidentified contagions must not be allowed to spread beyond the borders of the island. Humbly submit to the greater good.

     - THE UNITED EARTH

[Guess who is sick? And dragged to the hospital against her will stuck in the hospital.]

I don't want none o' your doctors. [She wheezes into the device, smart enough to keep it off.]

What I need is a wise woman. There are herbs and teas t'do me fine, none o' these metal machines. [She has to lean over to cough. It sounds like she's hacking a lung out.]

I won't stay here. In this metal buildin'. I'll fight me way out. I swear-- [And another coughing fit takes over before she just ends the feed.]

A scorpion needs to cross a raging river but fears drowning. As he wonders what to do, a frog approaches. The scorpion asks, "Please, will you carry me across the river on your back?"

The frog replies fearfully, "No! You'll sting me!"

The scorpion promises he won't because if he did the frog would sink and he would drown. So the frog agrees and takes the scorpion across the river on his back. As they cross the deepest part of the river at the midway point the scorpion suddenly stings the frog with its tail.

The frog writhes in agony as the poison slowly paralyzes him. He screams, "What have you done? Why would you sting me after you told me you wouldn't?"

And the scorpion replies, "It's my nature." Both of them drown in the river.

[A pause.]

What do you make of it?

_{( 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. )}

[So here's the charming face of Ygritte. Except she doesn't look too pleased.]

So are you lot that thick to go off then? T'do their bidding and fight their wars? What's dead is dead, only we can't die. They've got us, and if you save a man, he'll just expect you t'save him again.

I feel for that world and them lands, I really do. [More than most, probably.]

But what are we t'them? Do they care what happens t'us? This United group, aye, they may be the ones t'exile'em and t'keep them down. But what are we but-- collateral damage? [See, look. This place is wearing off on her. She's actually learning.]

What cause have I? What cause do any of you have?

In but one day an entire world falls and a friend is exposed as an unwitting pawn of the enemy.

[He tilts his head thoughtfully]

It would seem the United Earth was more capable than many gave them credit for. I have to admire their cunning. If things continue as they have been of late there may be no Initiative soon, no gathering of heroes to make a last stand against a global tyranny.

Fire and chaos is coming...

Where I hail from we would call it Ragnarok.

[And he smiles slightly]

Whatever shall the Initiative do to avoid such an ill fate?

[ Oh look! It's Drift, your neighborhood giant robot. He looks pretty banged up, plating scraped and paint chipped in spots. More over, he doesn't look like his usual aggressively serene self. He glowers at the screen, downright dour, optics glowing coldly from under his helm. ]

I'm back.

Sorry to anyone I've been tutoring on swordplay.

Lessons are cancelled until further notice.

I'll be working on my house if anyone needs me.

[ His mouth draw into a tight line before he switches the video off. ]

[The camera turns on, focused on a small, seventeen year old girl. She looks rather odd, with strange jewelry (earrings that look like radishes and a necklace that looks like it’s made of corks) and protuberant eyes that make her look almost perpetually surprised. She gives the camera a vague, dreamy smile.]

Hello, there. I’ve been trying to acquaint myself with the place, but I suppose I should also acquaint myself with the people. I’m Luna, Luna Lovegood. I don’t think it’s so bad here. It’s better than the place I was not too long ago, though I don’t like to think about that. It makes me sad. I think it would be worse if you had friends back home, though. I’m not quite sure if I have friends.

[She stares off dreamily into space for a few minutes before looking back at the camera.]

I was curious as to what kind of creatures roam this place. I should very much like to see them. And if you know any places to explore, I would like that very much as well.

Company would be appreciated, but isn’t necessary. I’ll be fine.

[She hums a tune of her own creation for a few minutes before finally shutting off the device.]

[ She was bored. So very bored. She wasn't training, because that's what they wanted from her, and the last thing Merida wanted to do was satisfy the people who wanted her to fight for them. She wouldn't do it. She wouldn't! And that was the end of it.

However, this didn't leave her with much to do. She wandered the city, even explored a bit of the Outlands, but she didn't go far. She was daring, but she wasn't stupid. She knew this world was dangerous, and she didn't want to lose her head without a good reason.

So she finally takes the painstaking time to learn to use the strange device she had been given upon her arrival. It took her plenty of attempts to get it working properly, and even when she does, there are several segments of very brief footage of the redheaded princess growling at her tablet in frustration. ]

Oi, is it working now? About time. [ She clears her throat. ] I want someone to tell me more about the land outside this city. [ It was much too crowded, too cluttered here. She wanted a freer space. ] A good place to explore, t'actually, you know, move around - that's what I'm lookin' for. How do you even stand it in this city?

[ She taps her chin. ] An' while you're at it, tell me what you do around here t'keep busy. I'm goin' out of m'mind.

[He waves a hand in front of the camera before picking the netbook up, and holding it over him like a teenager taking a selfie in the bathroom. From that angle, one can see his face, and the tunic he arrived in--with one large, noticeable tear in the material over his left breast.]

...What am I to say. This land is beyond Middle Earth, so I've been told, and time has no consequence here. There may be few here that come from before my time--or beyond it. [He laughs mirthlessly.] I would normally not be so inclined to believe such foolery. If I were not seeing much foolery with my own eyes. 

[Boromir then lapses into a troubled silence. He wants to ask about Frodo, and what became of the fellowship. And Pippin and Merry--had they been spared somehow, despite his failure to save them. But there was too much risk in asking too many questions on what he understood to be an open channel. It might divulge too much. So he aims to find the safest.]

...I seek a ranger from the south. He wore black, last I saw him, and a ring set with a green stone. Answers to the name Strider.

[He still seems to want to say more to the magic seeing eye, but settles on that with a firm nod.] This is all I need, but it would help me greatly.



[OOC note: I know this is a little closed for replies. I haven't posted to the intro log yet out of sheepishness for how late it is now, but if you wanted to do something with Boromir there, feel free to shoot me a PM!]

Uh. Okay.

As far as I can tell, Pete, Mitsuki and Fi aren't here any more. So I hope if any of you lot knew 'em, you made them feel appreciated while they were here.

( Her tone is vitriol and anger, and frustration because she knows she didn't. If there's anyone she can be counted on to let down, it's Fiona Maxwell. And now she's gone. )

And if you didn't know 'em, then you missed out. They were good bloody people. All right?

Are there any other Australians here, or am I just special, again?

( She's angry, maybe unreasonable, she knows it. But seriously, fuck all you guys. And by that she means The Initiative. )

Shit.


( well, that cheeriness interlude was nice while it lasted )

[ Usually Sharpe goes for video, but he chooses otherwise this time. He would've gone for text, but writing's difficult enough when he doesn't have to try to press keys in a board that makes no sense whatsoever.

Strong Yorkshire accent. There's a background noise of shaah, shaah, shaah, of knife going through wood. If anyone can recognise it, Sharpe is whittling. ]

They've been telling us this is the future. [ Pause. A quiet snort. ] Or at least, one version of it.

[ There's a longer pause. ]

What'd you do - any of you - if you realise that what you've been doing all yer life don't mean nowt? That yer not remembered at all? Things happened as they should, without you, and there ain't a single thing you did that meant anything?

[ Shorter pause, as if he's going to say something else. Then a heavy sigh, and he switches off the feed.

Over a month ago, Sharpe found the records of the Napoleonic Wars. Practically everyone he knows and everyone who means something to him are not there.

Welp. ]

[She looks mostly amused at the whole ordeal, what people are making out of this.]

An' you lot couldn't understand why I choose not t'live in that metal buildin' o' yours. Well now you've some ship they say flies in the sky. I'll keep my camp, I think.

( ( private to thorin ) )

( ( private to remy ) )

[ Edgeworth would have preferred to make this broadcast voice only, or, indeed, not at all, but there are a couple of obligations that he must uphold. One is to reaffirm his identity, in case there are people out there who still believe him to be gone from this place. Another is to let everyone know where he stands on ... certain issues so that no-one can accuse him of shirking his responsibilities.

Of course, he's chosen to wait until half the Transports are on a mission to make his announcement, but he's hoping that people won't read too much into that. Or will they? It doesn't matter. Or so he hopes.

He clears his throat somewhat awkwardly, looking at the camera. ]

Good evening. I believe some of you may be familiar with me from the last time I was here. Before you all start asking me at once, yes, I do remember Exsilium, and I really did leave, only to return. That leads me to my next point: at this present time, I will not be resuming my work with the law here in this city. If you've any inquiries regarding this matter, please instead direct them to the lawyers working at the police station.

[ A pause for breath during which he breaks his gaze to briefly glance at something off-screen. ]

That being said, if anyone has any suggestions for keeping one's dog content and satisfied when she is required to live in an apartment, they ... would be taken under consideration.

[Loki is lounging back in his throne, grasping a glass of wine.]

This most recent mission of the Initiative's was voluntary and yet so many people have taken part. Does the Initiative's stolen army truly have so much faith? I cannot deny that your hosts have ever confounded probability but such wells of luck run dry, as all wells do.

[He frowns.]

I cannot help but notice that they enjoy sending you away at the end of the month while they play with their little toys.

[He rubs his chin with his free hand.]

Play with and break may be more accurate.

[The frown curls up into a mischievous grin.]

Just in time for new recruits to appear and see that the other soldiers have become children or are wearing each other's forms like frocks. Such a wonderful first impression the Initiative must make!

I wonder why they do not run these tests a bit earlier in the month? Perhaps these malfunctions are not tests of the machines but of you? Perhaps they feel that by trying you the moment you set foot in this world they are hardening you for the times to come? I know not, but 'tis something to think about.

[Oh! He's back to broadcasting video! At least for this occasion. For anyone who saw him while he was detoxing: he looks much healthier now. More color to his skin, no sheen of cold sweat. His eyes are still ringed by dark circles, given his ongoing insomnia, but he no longer seems like he's on death's doorstep. His tremors are less pronounced, only occasionally noticeable. Slow improvement... which doesn't include his mood. He doesn't look much like he wants to be talking right now. He's grumpy and tired, damn it.]

Yo. I'm Jesse, for you guys that showed up this last time. Real quick just wanted to say: we do this thing every month, like... getting together to bake cookies for the new guys. It's pretty big, so we use a few different kitchens, but I got all the supplies and ingredients and everything...

Anyway. It's almost that time again. Collette's all on my ass so I guess I'm back to running things. I was thinking we'd get together - what is it? - uhh... 30th. Yeah, 30th. Room 409. You can come even if you don't know how to make cookies. It's real easy, I'll show you and we all kinda do it together.

Then, on the 1st, I set up a tent outside and give 'em away. You can help out there, too, if you want. It's pretty cold and wet, though, so that sucks. No pressure. Don't have to hang out the whole time or anything.

...Yeah. So.


((OOC note: this does overlap with the upcoming mission, which Jesse won't be going on.))

I'm thirteen today... I think. It's hard to keep track. Maybe I was really thirteen a while ago but today the date's right.

[Rue can't be seen on screen, she can be heard though, walking around the room.]

I'm not saying it to ask for anything. It... it's just important for me to acknowledge it somewhere.

[As a record, to believe it, to look back and say she survived another year since the reaping, since the arena.]

That's all really.

[And the video ends.]

[Ygritte's got her furs on, though her trousers aren't her normal, bulky ones. These ones have been gratefully given to her by Gwen.]

I've got enough supplies now. Should be headin' north any day. Just wanted to talk to any o' you who've made it. Like t'know which paths you've used and the like.

[Not that she needs help to travel.]

Just like t'know is all. I've got enough supplies with me to last a few weeks. But I'm a good traveler and don't expect to be out that far. Just like t'see what's out there.

[See if it's like home.]

[From the look of things when the feed switches on, a slow nineties R&B music video is about to begin, judging by the dark room, the candles on every available surface, and the rugged man sitting on the edge of a well-crafted wooden bed--okay never mind, that's Thorin. And he looks bamboozled about something.]

The dark does not trouble me. There is convenience to be had in the non-burning lights built into these towers, but they are not necessary. Clearly we have other means. [As he turns to gesture at the candles, the light catches on the soot and gray mixed into his hair, before he looks back.]

...But what I do not understand is the sudden stench of this place. Someone explain to me why darkness would cause a place to smell of flowers. [A not-so-hidden sneer of disgust.] I would like to know.

[Voice this time, not his usual video. He's pretty sick of people telling him how awful he looks when he's got the shakes. Not that he sounds great, either, but typing's too much effort and he doesn't care that much.]

This is, uh, like a heads-up. I don't think I can do the cookie thing next week. Just a lotta work, you know, in the kitchen then going out in the rain all day. I don't... yeah. Anyway, I can give you all the stuff if you wanna do it yourself. It'd be nice if somebody was out there for the new guys. I never really thought about making sure somebody else could do it if I was gone.

[A pause.]

Yeah. That's it, I guess. 409 if you wanna pick up ingredients or whatever.

[And, much like he said he would because Sollux is nothing but a man of his word, (when his word promises to do something spiteful towards a guy he very much dislikes), the feed opens up with just audio. Because if you saw the mess of a body this guy was in right now, you'd be horrified too.]

Public thervice announcement time.

I don't believe I even have to saying this, but apparently I fucking do. One. Just because you're in a different person's body doesn't give you the right to fuck with them. That includes: not being a dumbass and thinking just because the body you're in has superpowers that you should immediately try them out, and not doing anything that will later embarrass that person which INCLUDES POSTING VIDEOS NAKED, you know who I am talking to here. No one wantsth do see that shit, fuckheads.

Two. Will the original owner of the body of a blond woman who "usually wears a lot of armor" comment here. It pertains to the PSA I just had to give.

[He specifically means Samus because of this post. However, there are... quite a few blond women who wear armor in Exsilium. Whoops.]

...And a side note: if I say "rumble spheres", everyone knowsth what I mean, right?