[ the video opens on a table, spread with long cards, most of them face-down. the one showing is xvi, the tower. the camera pans out, a little jittery, to show physis sitting at her card table, turned to the side in agitation. blue is knelt on the floor beside her, glancing up at her with concern.

it was almost like it's all happening again, but this time she can't be quiet about it. she doesn't know the initiative as well, she can't really trust their efficiency in the face of something like this. the mu were always mobile, the moment they knew their location was compromised, they would find another one. that wasn't the case in exsilium, and the warning was necessary. ]

To those who don't know me, my name is Physis. I have the [ gift? not hardly. ] ability of foresight, clairvoyance.

We've made ourselves known, acted openly against our enemy, and they are preparing to make a retaliation. We are to be an example of how they retain their power, I have seen it.

Does anyone know what the Black Code entails?

[Elissa's one of those people who still hasn't conformed to the more modern way of dressing. Her tunic is loose and her leggings are worn, still the ones she's had from home. Her tone is thoughtful when she begins to speak.]

We lose people so often here that it's rather staggering. They say they wish to build an army but I often wonder if the Initiative isn't grasping at straws in their attempts to keep us here. I've seen strong warriors come and go, some more than once. I cannot tell if I'm grateful at the idea that their control over our presence is slipping or if we should be worried about what the future may bring. After all, we still do not know if we are returned home when we depart from this world.

[If she seems fearful of the notion, she doesn't show it.]

But we still lose valuable friends and allies just the same. Many, too, will leave this world only to lose their lives. However the Initiative has managed it, they have brought people back from the dead, and they will probably perish once they disappear.

[That is enough to make her frown.] There's little we can do, unfortunately. But I believe someone mentioned wanting to build a memorial before, something to honor those who have left us one way or another. I'll...admit wanting to start such a project if it hasn't been created already, though I have little idea of where to begin. Suggestions would be welcome.

[Otherwise, she can only privately mourn fallen friends and departed allies in her own way, and she's not interested in just moping.]

( filtered to zevran )

[Pippin looks unusually somber today, so people should guess something is amiss before he even speaks. When he does, his voice is soft and sad.]

I believe I heard when one cannot find their friend's name written upon the tablet's list, that it means they have been returned home. This has happened to Frodo's name. Frodo Baggins. He is my cousin. But he no longer appears. He is home now.

[And this would be the part where most people would say, "But don't worry; home's a better place than here!" But no such empty words pass Pippin's lips. Frodo is going back to the Dead Marshes, and Cirith Ungol, and spider poison, and succumbing to power, and to a finger bitten clean off. He's going back to all that, and when the journey is over and done, he will dwell in the Shire where he grows weaker and weaker.

Finally Pippin shifts, clears his throat, and forces a smile. He tries to sound like himself again, voice a bit lighter, but there is little joy there.]

I was thinking of having an adventure outside this city. I wish to journey to the wild and have a bit of a look around. But worry not; I had heard of the creatures that lurk out there, and so I was curious if any would wish to accompany me? We could set a date that suits us all.

I've noticed the trend towards asking our fellow transports philosophical questions on this network. While I can't say I particularly see the appeal, there is something about which I am curious of others' opinions.

Namely - how would you define a home?

If it's not something you'd wish to talk about, there's no point in answering; similarly, I don't mind answering, myself, for the curious - it's only polite when asking, after all.

( before anyone bothers with either of those points. homes aren't something he's thought about in years, really, fairly certain of the fact that he doesn't have one anymore; but after eight months or more in exsilium...he's starting to, a little bit. )

[The first time the feed turns on, it focuses on a blank wall, and then blurs as it is turned around. Thorin emerges, leaning into the camera until the tip of his nose almost touches it. He stares for a few moments--a subtle wetting of his throat--and then he growls to himself:] Ridiculous. Nonsensical-- [He starts to say something else before it is cut off completely.]

[Almost an hour later he tries again, in a different room, with a grumpy, yet subjected scowl. This wasn't something he had been expecting to have to do again--was none too thrilled about the prospect of it--but it needed to be done.]

I have counted twenty-six days since I arrived in this place. Far more sunsets I have seen than the presence of my own kind. I had not wanted to believe it, but there are no dwarves here. Or they hide themselves well, even from me. [He hasn't seen a single mountain either, for that matter.] As far as I've gathered, we are but legend in this realm.

Then it is not a far stretch to assume you are in need of a smith or a stone worker--as your city lacks a pair of hands true in their mastership. I extend to you my services, and the guarantee you will not find one more skilled with a hammer or forge than a dwarf.

I go by Thorin Oakenshield. You may address me on this talking book.

( well, that was - something. fifteen is not an age he'd ever wanted to experience again for a number of reasons, all of which stand out vividly in mind right now. there was so much he didn't know then, driven by a raw need for revenge and to get his answers, still hanging on mr maverick's every word. he wasn't happier then but things were simpler then, more cut and dry, and he was more certain of things than he may ever be now.

he sighs before he can stop himself, offering the feed a long-suffering expression. )

I'd like to thank everyone who helped me ( there's a slight stress on the last word ) in the last two weeks as I was getting reacquainted with living here - especially since I wasn't particularly easy to deal with, at that age. Presumably, everyone's aware that disruptions like this are difficult to predict or control, but if anyone would still like an apology for my behavior, I can't say it wouldn't be deserved.

I remember this place... though I can't remember if it was real, or just a dream from the Fade. Or perhaps the work of a demon.

[He shakes his head, scowling a little.]

That is a puzzle for another time, I think.

There are people from my own world here, as well. One of them is someone I've been seeking for a long time: Elissa Cousland. If you know of her I suggest you tell me where I can find her as soon as possible.

We have some... unfinished business to take care of. [That doesn't sound ominous at all.]



[OOC: For anyone familiar with the Dragon Age canon, Nathaniel is being taken from just before the beginning of Awakening, en route to Vigil's Keep.

For anyone else, the key factor is that Nathaniel is very, very pissed, and not likely to be as level-headed or rational as some might remember him to be.]

For those of you who may not know me, I’m Nathaniel Howe, one of the newly promoted sergeants of the transport section of the Exsilium city watch. I will do my best to protect the citizens and the transports, and offer my services whenever needed.

However, there is something much more important that I need to discuss. I and my fellow Grey Warden Duncan have just returned from a brief reconnaissance excursion in United Earth territory. We weren’t able to glean very much new information regarding our enemy, but we did procure this:

[Nathaniel holds up a small vial--approximately half the size of a standard test-tube--filled with some unknown liquid]

We found this on one of the citizens of the United Earth, and we have great reason to believe that it contains the drug that is being used to keep the citizens docile, and to prevent them from rising up against their leaders.

Unfortunately, neither Duncan nor myself has been able to determine what exactly is contained in the solution. We are, of course, sharing what we’ve found with the Initiative, but I am also calling on my fellow transports to see if there is anyone who has the knowledge or means to possibly determine what ingredients are in the drug, and to hopefully find an antidote.

If you are interested in helping, please let me know. I’m also willing to answer whatever questions anyone might have about what we learned.

( OOC INFO behind the cut )

[ The video opens to a pair of hands. Hands, paper, and a line of tobacco. A cigarette being rolled before the camera is tipped upwards and Sharpe comes into view. He drags a hand through his hair, which is more than slightly wet by the rain. It's obvious after a while that he's outside, sitting below the awning of one of the houses in the Hold. His rifle, leaning against his shoulder, is completely dry.

He takes out a lighter and snaps it on, lighting the homemade cigarette and taking a drag. ]

Convenient things, these. [ Tosses the lighter up, and catches it again. ] Works better than any flint. [ Pause, and he shrugs. ] But I ain't here ta talk 'bout fires.

I'm a soldier and I ain't use ta just waiting 'round here. Even travelling and sightseeing [ he grins at this, because going out to the Outlands was fun but not the kind of sightseeing and travel most gentlemen go for ] gets tiring after a while. [ He leans a bit further back against the wall. ] There any books 'round? [ Beat, then he clarifies, because his accent tends to mark him as illiterate: ] Fer reading, I mean. English'd do, but if there's something in French or Spanish, I ain't going ta say no.

[ He takes a drag of the cigarette contemplatively. ]

Stories'll do as well, if no one's got any books ta read.

[ He makes to switch off the transmission, but then he seems to remember something. Scramble, scramble, oops, ash and burnt paper on the camera, which he brushes away irritatedly. ]

Can someone explain ta me how a man and a woman can share the same house without being married or related ta each other? [ He tips his head ta the side. ] It don't say much for decency or the woman's reputation, no. [ Beaaaaaaaaaaaat. ]

And what's those noises on the thirteen floor of that damned building we've been housed in, eh?

[ This is actually Sharpe's point in making the transmission but he wants books as well. Whatever. Look, it's shut off for real now. ]

a little bit later, 10% (crappily) encrypted to morgana

[ Awkwardly: ] How fares you, milady?

[The screen shows a terribly serious-looking man. If you look closely you might realize that he looks an awful lot like an animated corpse (which, coincidentally, would be because he is one). If not? He might look like any other medieval fellow who hasn't really kept up on hygiene. Or who perhaps contracted some kind of horrible disease.

Either way, he doesn't seem bothered by his condition.

He's also doing a pretty good job keeping the camera steady and focused despite his lack of experience with such devices. HE MEANS BUSINESS OK.]

Good people!

I confess I have not yet spoken to many of you, which I presently hope to rectify. You may call me Justice, and I intend to see to it that each poor soul drawn to this world is soon returned to his rightful lands unharmed.

[Big promises maybe but hey that's a spirit of justice for you.]

But first I must ask -- how does the Initiative capture its... [is "victims" too strong a word?] recruits? It is not magic, and I know no other way

So I take it this isn't exactly unusual.

[ And if you wanna know what Adam means with 'this' ... well, the video opens with a closeup of a rabbit, snarling and squirming and hanging off an arm it has bitten into and just won't let go. The person that arm belongs to doesn't sound too bothered, probably because that arm is made of solid, black metal that's not at all sensitive to pain. ]

( Cut for implied animal violence; private messages to Samus, Edgeworth, Barnaby )

[A gorgeous blond elf stands in front of the Initiate Hold, wearing his leather-skirted armor and splattered with blood. At least it all seems to be someone else's.] ...Hmm, this place again, is it? I was just thinking how terribly dull it was, fighting in a strange land, and how I'd very much like to take a sabbatical and fight in an entirely different strange land. [A small laugh.]

I don't believe I ever actually introduced myself before. I'm Zevran Arainai, formerly of the Antivan Crows. [He does a small, but the theatrical bow toward the camera.] I'm sure we're all going to get along famously.

And Elissa, my friend, if you are still here - I believe I owe you a drink. [A pause, and he seems very nearly to falter, as he adds, softly - ] Or ten.

[ 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.

Our labor has not entirely been for nothing, it would seem.

[Elissa's actually out in the city, sitting somewhere and watching a few of the new arrivals sort themselves out. It's safer to be using the audio function if only so that her displeasure is not so easily seen. She still has several misgivings over what they've done to the earth in order to arrive at this point.]

But any victory is not without its costs. I attempted to speak to a few of the shop owners to ask them about what had transpired before now and no one could answer me. In fact, they all start looking at me as though I had grown three heads and horns. They do not seem to remember the change in scenery or even the monsters. One woman told me I must have been on the bottle.

[Considering the last time she had appeared on the network, this garners a brief snort.]

I suppose I'm the only one that finds all of that troublesome. I don't think I'll ever understand these time changes. A shame, too, because it seems like a fairly interesting concept.

[Too bad it just seems too far-fetched for her.]

And this talk of parties reminded me that I - we, really - would be celebrating a holiday if we were home. [Though it's been a while since she's done any sort of gatherings or parties.] I suppose that's a shame too. But I'm not the first to miss an important holiday or occasion, now am I?

[And being away from home isn't going to stop her from doing something for Satinalia. It's just going to mean a little bit of creative thinking on her part to find gifts suitable enough with the coin she has.]

Shit. This place looks almost as bad as Earth. [The voice comes first, a tired drawl as the camera on her omni-tool shakes a bit. It moves then, to her stomach, showing burned remnants of her armor barely attached to her civilian clothes underneath and a hole in her gut that's dripping with blood; the reason why her hand is there.

Finally, the camera stops shaking so much as Shepard sits down heavily against a building, not really caring about the uncomfortable feel of rubble. She switches hands and brings the arm with her omni-tool up. Her face is pretty much just in the same shape as the rest of her, bruised and bloody, although she somehow manages a smirk.] My Earth, I guess I should say. [There's a moment of silence as her eyes glaze over before she blinks again.]

So, not to worry anybody, but I think I might need a medic over here to keep me from leaking everywhere. [A snort.] Better idea: someone bring me a stiff drink. I think I could use one.

[Her eyes close just before her arm falls into her lap.] By the way, we won. [That's for the other Mass Effecters. They'll know what she means.]

[ooc: someone is back from her canon update :'3 also with a new journal name!]

Hello, everyone.

[ Today, he looks about as professionally neutral as he normally would - if maybe a little pleased for once - and he's seated at a table in his apartment, somewhat visible from the angle of the netbook screen. ]

I hope to hear that everyone's been doing well - or as well as possible.

[ Considering what happened not long ago, but there's no need to rub it in. He pauses briefly before going on and leaning towards the screen a little, some light catching on the gold resting at his collarbones. ]

There's been talk recently of the need for a more organized means to control threats and protect the people here. Naturally, I agree completely.

[ There are some papers on the table and he takes a moment to glance through them before picking up one in particular - plain, nondescript, with black typeface visible on it - and gesturing at the camera. ]

As I found out not long ago, we're not alone in thinking that. The people - the civilians - of Exsilium have already begun to organize a police force of their own. I happened to find their station because of this flier, advertising for assistance. They're more than willing to accept Transports - in fact, they're willing to allow for a separate segment to be created that would consist entirely of Transports and address dangers to us.

I can understand if anyone may be hesitant to work with natives of this world, but they seem to be completely unaffiliated with the Initiative - so much that no one I spoke to acknowledged the name - and I believe this is a good opportunity to bring some [ JUSTICE ] order to Exsilium while we're here.

[ The feed turns on. Leliana looks closely at the notebook and waves her hand in front of the video feed. It mirrors her movements. There are other people in other windows and they are all watching her! She wonders if this is what the other side of the mirror feels like. ]

This… communication device is so interesting! Is it some sort of, um, ancient magic? I don’t know much about those, I am afraid, but it is certainly useful, no?

This place is really grand. I don’t think I have ever been anywhere like here. Not in Ferelden. Not in Orlais. Not in Orzammar. I am sure these walls and windows have a lot of stories to tell, and these grand spaces have a lot of adventure to uncover. [She giggles.] I am going to find out, soon enough.

I still can’t believe I’m here! I can’t tell if I’m dead or if I’m dreaming. I hope nobody pinches me awake soon, at least.

Oh. But I have certainly babbled enough, I think. I am Leliana! It’s a pleasure to meet all of you!

[ ooc: psst, mods, it's Leliana not Lelania in the tags. :D ]

[video]

I dinnae what a 'netbook' is. The wee woman wasnae very helpful ...

[There are sounds of movement from the netbook, but the picture is dark. It takes a moment or two of rustling around before something comes into view. It's blurred from quick movement, and then an eye appears, filling the screen. It's brown.]

What are ye, now? [The voice is male with a Scottish accent. The picture pulls back to show a man's face; wild dark blonde hair with grey at the temples, a mustache and soul patch that's serving for a beard, and a scowl that conveys a great deal of attention paid to the netbook.]

Magical box. With voices! Well, bugger me. At least it's got a wee typewriter attached.

[tap tap tap on the screen]

'allo, people in the box! What're ye doin' in there?



((ooc: heading to bed, will respond in the morning!)) Back!

I have not been in this time for very long but I've been feeling out of place these past few weeks, not simply because of my surroundings but because of the technology here. I'm curious of the more advanced weaponry that people use now. More importantly, that there are so many who know how to use them with relative ease.

[As a commander, it makes her feel disadvantaged, especially since most of these weapons are so much more powerful than a simple sword and shield.]

If anyone would be willing, I would like to learn how to use these weapons or, better yet, to be able to defend myself from them. Should one of these missions send me to a time after my own, I'd be in quite a bit of trouble. [She smiles.] I can't offer anything in return but my gratitude, though I can teach you swordplay, if you would like. Or, if you would prefer, I know how to make traps and poultices.

[Her smile turns into a full-fledged smirk.]

And for those who are ambitious, I could show you how to steal valuables off of a passerby without them ever noticing they're missing their purse.

[Once a rogue, always a rogue. Sorry, kids.]


( Filter to the Grey Wardens )

Among us transports, how many used to be involved in their world's justice system? As police, lawyers, detectives, judges, [ heroes ] and the like. Nobody's required to answer, of course, but I'd like to know. Curiosity, if you will.

[ He goes for text for once because he doesn't feel like broadcasting - it's been two weeks since the VR and if nothing else he still believes in keeping up appearances, the instinct to pick up and carry on for his goal more deeply rooted than almost anything. What goal, he's wondered so much for so long lately, but he found an answer at home and there's no reason to let go of it now. ]

Right. Let's try this again.

A colleague of mine has attempted to help her fellow conscripts by forming some ... working groups, let's call it. Battle parties. People who can rely on one another in combat, if we've trained together long enough, if we find we're compatible and balanced.

This isn't exactly a radical idea. We could just go into battle a completely incoherent mess, as we did in Assyria. Those of you who fought that battle for our captors will remember. War is never pretty, no, but it can be waged with some semblance of planning. You know, because some of us would like to keep on living.

Now, if you're among those who have been conscripted into this Initiative's war from a world they seem especially to enjoy ransacking for soldiers, and you've got a ready-made unit, cheers. We don't need to talk further. Not at this point, anyhow. You might want to have your leader talk to spokespersons from other groups, at some point. Just to be neighborly, yes? So we've got some idea what we're going into, together.

What I'd like to see now is some framework for sorting the lone warriors in. And the lone mages, and the lone rogues, and the specializations I've never even seen up to now. And the pairs who've come from a world the Initiative hasn't quite tapped into, yet, and know they want to stay together, but also know it can't be just the two of them against the enemy hordes.

If that describes you, drop me a line.

[Additional messages go out to:

Tatsumi Kanji
Roslyn Small
Bariyan what's your last name BARIYAN E KODHI
Dean Winchester
Orihime Inoue
Danny Williams
Yuki Terumi]

( additional messages so I don't need to blow up Alex's inbox I mean spam Fiona's post )

[There's a certain dog snuffling at the communicator when it turns on. In fact, his nose actually turns the device off and onto audio for several moments, the sound of his heavy breathing filling the microphone.]

Off, you lush. I need that.

[The mic is covered by something - fabric, actually, in an attempt to clean off the device - and then it switches back to video. A woman with red hair can be seen looking over the communicator critically, looking for scratches and cracks. The dog is gone and she settles back. It's easy from this angle to see the Warden-Commander's crest on her armor, even if it's partly covered by a curtain of hair.]

I wish to speak to whomever's in charge of bringing recruits here. They have no authority to conscript a Warden in any way, not without first making an appeal to Weisshaupt. If I cannot have an audience with the leader of this outpost - [or whatever it is] - then I would speak with anyone else who carries a position of authority.

[She knows her stuff, clearly. She frowns into the camera, tapping it once. She sighs, glancing at her dog. The commanding aura nearly vanishes, replaced by exasperation.]

...I'm speaking to myself, aren't I?

[Elissa glances back to the device, fussing with it once more. It turns off.]