[Nate's voice is rough, when it comes over the comm, but he manages to keep it steady. Mostly]

For those who knew him, Soldier Blue has passed away. [It's been a long time since he's been the one to bear this sort of bad news, and he feels distantly sympathetic for Scott - out of all of the responsibilities that come with being a leader, this is one of the worst]

I've spoken to the Initiative - because it was due to natural causes, and with the shifts in the timestream, the resurection tech won't work. It was... peaceful, though. [Enough that he didn't sense the moment of death, anyway]

There'll be a memorial at some point - I'll let everyone know.

I have information to share with you all, about information that we lack.

[a pause.]

( LOTS OF TALKING )

[ bright and early, splayed on the network feed in somewhat old-timey poster fashion: ]

IMMEDIATE HELP WANTED

with the

Refurbishment and Construction

of

Shelters and Outposts

for purposes including but not limited to

Accommodation, Assembly, Defense, Medical Aid, Technical Support, Supply Reserves, Agriculture

and other prospective services to Transports and other associates.

All forms of assistance and input welcome and encouraged

including but not limited to technical aid, general labor, delivery and supply, security, liaison with third parties, and crew support.

Inquire in this post for further details.

----

( video version, within the same post )

(( OOC: APOLOGIES FOR THE SLOWDOWN IN REPLIES I'll get to everyone's as soon as I can ))

[The video feed opens to reveal a very stoic-looking monster. She's standing in front of an igloo with a large snowboard in hand.]

Merry Christmas. I am offering lessons of the snowboarding for interested people. Will be starting tomorrow morning.

One condition. You must not be holding feelings of violence towards yetis. [There are reasons behind this -- mostly because they may be snowboarding on hills that yetis frequent often.]

This holiday is for the giving to less fortunate, yes? Will make igloos for those people who are still being homeless.

[She's very excited to finally partake in the festivities -- can't you tell?]

It looks colder in Exsilium than last year. Can anyone make me a hat and something to cover my horns? I know the money doesn't work there anymore, but I have other stuff, too.

[He turned the video down to a small collection. There were a number of different items ranging from books, feathers, bolts and screws, pretty but fake jewels, and more. There may be the occasional item of value but a lot of that value highly varied depending on personal taste.]

If that's not good enough, I can help with something. I'm good at cleaning and I can move heavy things.

[A few hours the transports start arriving in the new facility, someone interrupts the moving frenzy with this cheerful broadcast.]

I'm starting to think there's a lot these people don't tell us before we get ushered along to where they want us.

[Korra snorts, crossing her arms over her chest in a clear sign of agitation.]

Don't know if you guys knew this already, but that allowance they used to give us before? Not happening here. Looks like we're pretty much on our own for food and supplies. Anyone want to have a look around the area with me, see what we've got to work with here?

[She grumbles something like "could have told us this before we started moving, jerks".]

Oh yeah, if anyone needs to know how to keep warm in the snow, I can probably give a few tips, too.


(ooc: There is now an ooc post to sign up for the exploration!)

[ Because Rinth doesn't care for this video stuff when it leads to her being seen by who knows how many prying eyes! For this, however, it is necessary, and so at some point after the first few batches of Transports are Earth-side and before the Transporter itself is moved, a large, kind of jaguar-faced creature with two too many ears and several horns takes a step back from her tablet, leaving it wherever it's been set up to record from.

It's time to settle a few things here. ]

All right. Listen up, you mice. My name is Rinth Ghostshot, formerly of the Ghost Warband, engineer and soldier of the Iron Legion of Black Citadel, nearly fresh from active duty in the Dragonbrand. None of that's going to mean a mist-damned thing to any of you, but it means a whole lot to me, so don't forget it if you plan on dealing with me.

I am a charr, from Ascalon on Tyria. My entire culture is war. My morals and beliefs do not need to fall within acceptable human limits, nor do I care to follow any of your non-existent laws save for whatever I deem too extreme to get away with ignoring here. In fact, if it weren't for the cease-fire the Imperator agreed to, I would have left that transporter room killing you lot left and right, even though it sure doesn't apply to humans here...

[ So friendly, right?

But, hey, it's honest. That must count for something. ]

Ask questions now if you have them, because this is the only time I'm gonna feel like answering them.

All that aside, my other message is I've been down here a week already and I've scouted out an old work building that I plan on fixing up and getting some heaters and electricity into. It won't be much at first, but any others who are not human and need a place to stay safely are more than welcome to join me.

[ ooc note: of which more details can be found here. ]

[Last time Jaime posted as Blue Beetle, he kept to text. This time, he thinks that people might need a face - masked as it may be - to match to the words. His voice is put through a technological filter, just distorted enough for him to keep from being recognized. He's in the VR room in the most professional looking room he could think of, which is essentially a large table with wall-to-wall windows behind him looking out onto San Francisco - potentially recognizable to some canonmates as a loose copy of the Titans Tower meeting room, which is fairly generic anyway.]

So... hi. I'm Blue Beetle. A bunch of you already know that I've been trying to dig up as much info on the Chimera Project as I can - those are the cloned children, for you new guys - and I think I've got enough information to get going. Thanks to everyone who helped me out with this, by the way - you know who you are. I know everyone must be really tired of hearing people give long speeches by now, so I'll try to keep it short. [He smiles at the camera for an instant, a flash of white, human teeth behind the armour]

[He's making an effort to sound professional, but he's not used to public speaking. Sometimes, he looks down at his lap instead of the camera (consulting his notes as if he's giving a speech for class if he's honest about it) and he's stiff, uncomfortable, but his voice is even and steady. Small victories, and victories born of actually rehearsing.

Are you ready for a fun history lesson, Transports? Because you're sure as hell going to get one.]

( Non-IC cut! )

[I.D. simply reads "Martin" now. and a Martin surely is at-hand! long time no see, network. only six-plus months long, nbd.

he looks fairly pleased and...relieved after a beat. because he's pretty sure he's figured this out.]

Hello... [his eyes wince. doubt.] Hello? [the screen tilts a little while he inspects something.]

I think this is right. It's been a long time since I've used one of these... [his stare trails away.] I took one of the new ones. I think that's alright, since mine's been gone for a long time...

[a beat. he looks back.]

Is everyone alright? Now that they're gone...

Okay, so here's the thing. I am totally not advocating any of this zombie murder going on right now. But you most of you guys are normies and that's just what you people do to monsters. I guess there's not a whole lot we can do about that.

[WHO IS THE REAL MONSTER? IS IT YOU?!!! IS IT?!!!]

Anyway. I can uh...actually speak zombie. Like the actual language. So if any of you guys want to hold up your tablet to one of them so I can catch a few groans and moans and whatever, I can tell you what they want. Maybe we can resolve this peacefully, y'know?

Okay first off, before y'all start yelling at me, I been assured that we got plenty of supplies for this and I ain't cutting into our rations. Everybody's been doing a good job going on missions and bringing us stuff, so thanks for that. You guys are awesome.

So most of you know what I'm gonna say next: it's almost time to bake cookies. New guys, the deal is that we usually do this every month. It's a little something to help new arrivals feel better about being stuck here. We get together, we bake cookies, and then we pass 'em out on the first of the month and talk for a while with anybody who's got questions or needs a shoulder to cry on or whatever. It's just a nice thing we try to do.

Last month sucked but we're picking it back up again now, so anybody who wants to help out, we'll be having ourselves a little Halloween party in the cafeteria and baking all night. It's fun. You don't gotta be no master chef or nothing, I'll help you out.

And speaking of that, too - I heard some people ain't been eating right 'cause they don't know how to cook. That's messed up, yo. Don't stay quiet about something like that, okay. Ask for help. Nobody wants you starving and getting sick up here. If you can't cook for yourself, just come and find me. I'll make you something. You won't be bothering me 'cause I'm bored outta my mind anyway. I'm in 144 right now, so you can stop by or leave a message. Jesse Pinkman. It says right there on your screen.

Aight, I'm done.

[ If he doesn't need this bad right now, come five to six days from now he's really going to need it. ]

Alcohol. They carry any of it here?

[ When the feed turns on, there's a poorly-shaven and generally scruffy guy in a labcoat peering critically into the lens. He might not look familiar, but when he speaks, Transports who have been around for a while may recognize the voice. ]

This thing on? Hey, looks like we're broadcasting. I'm a genius, as usual.

[ The view shifts as he tucks whatever is broadcasting into the front pocket of his shirt, showing a hallway within the Hold. His voice drifts in from off-screen: ] We got the best of the best having a powwow in here. You know, the fate of all of Exsilium, and stuff like that. They're gonna tell you guys when they're done, but I say we pick up the pace a little. We're on a tight schedule, you know? [ The view strides forward as he makes for a closed door. ] Just our little secret, alright? I'm not even supposed to be on your fancy network — like they could ever actually kick me off.

[ His voice drops with the last part as he pushes open the door. Inside are ten Initiative employees, and Saul and Medusa, seated at a table and looking terse. Someone shoots a frown toward our loyal broadcaster, who mutters an apology for his bladder and slides into the only empty seat. ]

( Cut for length and a transcript! Sort of. A prose transcript, because who really wants to read the word-for-word. )

[ The talk winds down, and someone near Saul and Medusa mutters to them, something along the lines of, I don't envy your job, telling everyone. Saul, already pissed and definitely having been on the "no" side of the voting, lunges for the guy — but is restrained by Medusa's hair. The view shifts again as the broadcaster lifts the camera from his pocket, turns it around to grin weakly into it. ]

Done and done, pals. It was the pen all along! Ha, told you I was a genius, noooo one feels like listening to poor old Sponde…

[ There's a quick raising of angry voices, but the feed ends and cuts them off. ]

[[ooc; Saul, Medusa, anyone else in DITR, and possibly the NPC will be responding to questions here, but also feel free to use this as a general IC discussion space!]]

When I was a kid, FDR would do these little— he'd come on the radio, and he'd sound cheery, and he could talk about all kinds of awful things. Poverty, and debt, and then war. [ His voice drifts off, for a second. ] And no matter how bad it all got, he could make you feel safe. I was always crap at that. I can't make you feel safe. But some stuff you've gotta know anyway, I figure.

I got a copy of one of the UE's field guides, and what it says is that the Black Code is the all-clear for a nuclear warhead drop, then carpet bombing. They have… fancier nukes now, I guess, with more than one point of impact on drop.

Now you know.

[ 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?

–omeone...

[a beat, a breath heavily drawn and shakily exhaled. sentences are punctuated with overlong breaks.]

Help me understand. Not one person I have spoken to recalls this mission...But she is still gone. [breath.] Physis is. Others, perhaps? I don't know. No one has any recollection...

[ Ahh yes, here he is again, your resident robot. ]

Since there seems to be an influx of new people suddenly, I'd like to extend my invitation for a free living space to all. My name is Drift. I've been fixing up this old building, I assume it was a factory of some kind. I find myself at a surplus of empty rooms.

Anyone is welcome to stay here long term or short term, you will have a room of your own, privacy and my protection as you are under my roof.

I only ask that you are peaceful and do not disturb the others living here.

That said, if anyone would like to donate any human-sized beds or furnishings, I would be very grateful, as I am not asking money of anyone who stays.

If you have any questions or would like to come stay here, don't hesitate to ask. I don't bite.

[please enjoy about 45 seconds of silent film: small wildflowers, shrugs, and grass...some creeping vines up a dead tree trunk. it's only a little shaky, because this is being filmed in his hands, but hey.

once it's done, there's just follow-up text:]

The plants around here are getting healthier :)
I take it a good sign.

[private text to: ADRASTEIUS]

Everything looks a lot better here, and I'm pretty sure it's mostly thanks to you!
I found an interesting book today about where certain kinds of plants can grow. And I might have some ideas because of it...

It's a new month, and I suppose I've recovered enough to return to my business. For those unaware- my name is Kirian Dawningsun, and I own a tailoring shop.

[Directions are attached to this message via text.]

I specialize in robes, but I've begun to make suits, as well. Suits are discounted this month, while I fine-tune the process for making them.

Additionally, if anyone has any histories or other books they wish to part with, let me know. I can pay in marques or barter for them. Non-fiction only. I've no time to bother myself with fiction.

[Kirian, you're a magical elf.]

Thank you for your time.

Recently, several of you have made complaints on this network of being attacked by a strange girl. She used needles for weapons, dressed elaborately, and seemed unbalanced in her affect.

I want you to know that the issue has been dealt with.

[He probably should leave it there. That's the most relevant information: the threat is gone. But he's thinking about the way people spoke of Regina, the terms they used. He's thinking about Martin, who may still not return. But even so.

He clenches his jaw, and he's unable to marshal his irritation.]

I also want you to know that what you encountered was not solely a monster. She was a girl, an infected girl, and her name was Regina Darkov. Her younger brother, Martin, was a long time resident of this place. If he returns here, and you speak of your experiences to him, try to show some respect.

[You've probably seen this kid running around for the last two weeks, shrieking excitedly when he notices you're a human being (or fish person, or troll, or whatever; he's pretty excitable). But it's only now he attacks the network, all smiles and cheer.]

Holy SCHMAO, you guys, I've never seen so many humans! This is amazing! Where I'm from-- well, my name is Finn, first off! Finn the Human, from the land of Ooo! I'm basically a knight there, it's pretty great. I fight evil and stuff with my brother! But I'm the last human being ever, and I've never seen any others before-- but here you all are! Which is awesome!  We should all get together and talk about human stuff. What do you eat? Do you like bacon pancakes? What about--

[Oh wait no he had a message here. Finn takes a breath and adds:]

Anyway, uh-- I know things are kind of bumslops right now, but, uh, you gotta just keep your chin up! Sometimes being a hero means nobody likes you very much, or they think you're wrong, or even making mistakes. But as long as you're trying to do the right thing, you're all right!

Oh, and-- if anybody needs lessons in being a hero, I'm totally free. I've got, like, a billion years experience in it.

[He thought he could handle this situation on his own, somehow. He thought he would sort it out eventually, that it wouldn't matter to anyone but him -- these were creatures designed for his torment, meant to make him suffer. Their harsh murmurs tear at him more deeply and specifically than anyone else; unlike the others, he feels their burning claws slice into his back, their eyes boring into him. The demons curl around his ankles like unwanted cats; they settle in the chinks of his armor and hiss, their whispers as corrosive as acid. They don't tell him anything he hasn't heard before, which is partly why he's taken so long to say anything. He feels sure that the problem was contained--confined, even, to Koltira alone.

But recent posts on the network suggest that this is not the case.

Koltira stands in the center of his lake, on his platform of ice. Byfrost is stuck into the platform beside him, its blade completely invisible beneath the thick, writhing mass of miasma that envelops it.]

I apologize. If you have heard cruel whispers recently, or seen the shadows emerge from the dark and give chase, then I am to blame. They are demons meant for me, released by the evolution of my runeblade.

[He pauses a moment before continuing. His usually inscrutable expression is pained: his eyes are half-closed, his lips are thin, and his long eyebrows are drawn together in frustration. He hates that he has to do this, but there's no other choice.]

I cannot defeat them. They are reaching out from their own plane of existence, a realm of shadows.

[Another pause. He's getting there. It's happening.]

I ... I am powerless to enter this place. But if any of you are willing, I can send you to it. You could clear them away.

[His fingers close into a clenched fist over his chest. He exhales.]

Please.

[ The silence in the background is full and steady, which makes the fast, uneven breathing behind the tablet a little more out of place than it might have been. ]

My friend, he- Jericho. [ a huffed breath out. ]

They- it wasn’t even an accident. He didn’t have a pulse when I... when I got here. [ not a certainty, the accident part. but a guess. a good guess his head's rushing to already, but he's too upset, too angry to think it through right now. ]

I don’t know how long it’s been but you- you could tell that with the right equipment. With the fractures and the head trauma that’s- that’s a lot of- [ work to do is what he doesn’t say.

no he won’t say that. ]

Whatever it takes, I’ll- whatever the white coats use to bring people back, we’ve gotta use that. There has to be a way, there just...

There has to be.

[forward-date to around 3 or 4am 6/13. poster ID for this tablet is MARTIN DARKOV, but this is not the Martin you are looking for. here is a pretty face for you.

actually, no. this was a pretty face, but there is a lot of ugly going on here. scabs and grooved flesh all along the right side...eye nearly swollen shut.

this gal's brow is furrowed, straining, contradicting the lazy smile it wears.

slow, methodical, yet wavering after each letter:]

D. A. R. [swallow. a wider smile and a shakier voice.] K. O. V.

[it blinks a few times; there's a couple tears trailing from behind the monocle.]

Oh. Sh. Shh.

We solved a mystery.

[There's been a tremendous spike in patients recently, and the influx is only worsening as the days pass. The clinic doesn't have a robust staff as it is, so Adrasteius--and probably anyone else on the roster--is more than a little overworked. His expression over the feed is harried, haggard, and more than a little frustrated. Normally, diseases wither into nothing under the influence of the Light, but this illness has proved alarmingly resistant. He can treat the symptoms well enough, but the sickness itself keeps surviving. It would drive him to drink, if he even had time.]

This situation is getting out of hand. If you're still able, and you have the skill, the clinic needs you. I don't just mean healing skill, either--we need people to run supplies, prepare food, organize files, maintain records, all that sort of thing. Just tell me what you're able to do and I'll find you a place.

[Adrasteius runs a hand over his tired face, but his eyes are as bright and steady as ever. They might be bogged down, but he's damn sure not going to turn anyone away--not until taking in more people becomes unsafe.]

And if you think whatever this damn thing is has gotten hold of you, come see us. Not just because we aren't the Initiative--but because even their hospital is probably overflowing. We're busy, but we've still got clean beds and I'm still going to take care of you. I can't eliminate the disease, but I can mitigate whatever pain you're feeling, at least.

[ The name on this post is still Bariyan e Kodhi, but its current owner is mostly certainly not Bariyan.

Cat's sitting at a desk, elbow propped against its surface, his hand in his hair. The collar of his shirt has been pulled away to show the mess that's been made of his neck -- frost-nipped skin, bruising, great big bloody scratches. He's made no effort to tend to his injuries yet. He has, however, taken time to make sure that his hair is completely perfect.

He scowls. ]

Tell me, did anyone else here get physically assaulted by their roommate the moment they opened their fucking door? Or was I the only one who got tossed in with a goddamn psychopath?

[ Cat paws at his neck and looks surprised to feel blood-- he pulls his hand away hastily, tries to wipe it off on the back of his other hand, snarling in irritation. ]

This is the exact reason why I don't... like... sharing.

[ He's barely finished spitting his last syllable before he turns the tablet off. Then he picks it up and flings it at the wall, shrieking, but thankfully that portion of his incredibly mature and reasonable fit doesn't make it onto the network. ]

[Have a video feed. He looks a little unsure for a moment, but nods.]

I'm looking for a metalworker. Someone who would be able to make a setting for a stone. And, well, I need a blue stone, as well. A blue piece of glass would work just as well, I suppose. If anyone knows what shops I might be able to find something like that, I'd be grateful.

[And now, for something else.]

I'm not going to talk about what happened or why or what we could have or should have done. Instead, I want to offer something for moving forward.

I'm a Death Knight...many of you probably don't know what that means. The best answer is that it means I know how to use a sword. I have a place in the Outlands, and for those that would like to join me on the hike there, I can offer weapons training.  You can bring your own weapons, or I can provide practice blades.

I don't expect any payment or anything for it, I just hope that it might help you be ready to defend yourself in case something like that happens again.

((OOC: metal and stone bits are spoken for, but feel free to have your character tell him where he could find it. AND EVERYONE SHOULD COME GET SWORD TRAINING. EVERYONE.))

[Exsilium might not be expecting to see a smiling face on their network so soon after the battle, but that's what you get with this guy being among your ranks. He gives the camera a little wave.]

Hello! Is everyone recovering from the battle? It's good that the Initiative can resurrect people, don't you think? Otherwise that would have turned out rather badly.

Anyway, I wanted to say thanks to the people who tried to come to the rescue of my world. If we've not met, I'm Elmer C. Albatross, the person who was sent back. After what happened, it might be hard to think about this positively. But there's a few things we can take to heart! Like the fact that people can be ressurrected, or that while one world may have been taken over, it probably wasn't your world, and you might still be able to return to your own someday!

As for mine, well... Not much can be done about that, now. I suppose Exsilium is my home, now. The friends I was travelling with are like me, so they'll survive no matter what. I just hope someday things will return to normal there, so the survivors can find reasons to smile again! You're all still here, fellow transports, so I hope you continue to smile on as well!

[Mahdi addresses the screen dressed in a red apron with his name embroidered on one side: a perhaps-obviously handmade gift from a friend. The apron and his face and bare arms are smudged with flour and a few streaks of chocolate.]

Um, does anyone want cookies? I made cookies.

[Around this time you may notice that pretty much every inch of the kitchen counter is covered with foil-wrapped paper plates.]

I made a few dozen.

And a pie. Maybe two pies.

Baking is how I vent stress sometimes, I guess, um...

I guarantee these cookies will make everyone feel a bit better! So let me know if you'd like a plate, I can drop it off with you. I'll probably be leaving some at the clinic too.


[OOC: Mahdi's cookies will, miraculously, give one a lingering sense of warmth and affection for a short time, due to his powers of emotional projection.]

[It had been a while since his last network post. Ico was markedly thinner now but he looked healthy.

He waved at the screen.]

A lot of people here know how to cook, right? Would you teach me what you know? If it's how to make cookies, I almost know how to do that already.

[The video cuts in on a redheaded girl with one shock of green hair grinning at the camera]

So is it just me or does that [air quotes] "orientation" thing need a little spicing up? Seriously. I didn't know whether I was going to the grand inquisitor's office or if I was back in the... uh... [She cringes, realizing what she almost just said. Grinning suddenly she waves it off] in bed having some weird-ass dream or something.

I do feel kinda gypped, though. [She mocks the woman's voice] "your housing companions will assist you in becoming ready." Yeah well I don't have any "housing companions" so I guess I'm on my own. [beat] Again.

[Yeah this is so familiar. Left alone in an unfamiliar place. Groovy. Yeah. She's done it before and she can do it again. She shrugs, shooting the camera a lopsided grin]

So I guess what I'm really saying is: Is there any place a girl can get a burger around here? I'm starving.