video | the alderwood emperor

[alderwood]

[The video comes up not with the backdrop of the Commander's office, but instead that of the Emperor's personal quarters. It is Alderwood that sits there, his expression dark and controlled; there are signs of grief in the redness of his eyes same as there are signs of activity in the motion of police kedan behind him, but he ignores that to address the network.]

The Ironwood Emperor is-- [Here, he breaks a moment before the line of his jaw settles with stonelike strength and he continues.] She is dead.

[Centuries of war that she survived, centuries of difficulties, and he found her as innocently dead as a victim in a murder. Evandau appears torn, once again on the brink of the grief that threatens to consume him, but he forces himself into mould of a Commander so that he might serve the purpose of this message.]

The sealed scroll outlining her succession was opened this morning under my authority as Commander. [His hand moves, briefly touching a rolled up scroll set on the flat surface before withdrawing as though burned.] It was her wish that I assume all authorities and responsibilities as Emperor after her passing.

[His look is pained, but does not break.]

Henceforth, I assume the role of Alderwood Emperor and thusly fulfill her wishes. The responsibilites of the Commander will continue with me until I choose a successor.

[A pause, a breath as he composes his next words.]

The Palace of Landed Sky is closed to all petitioners until further notice. Without Eshai's power protecting it, this is no longer a safe haven for those that wish to speak its name, so do not risk it.

[For he already suspects that Malicant is behind this and will not have it invited in to make a pair of he and Eshai in death.

That brings him to the end of what he needed to announce and so he only offers one flat statement in closing.]

This changes nothing of your presence or purpose, so do not come beg of return. Those magicks are beyond me and my priority is determining what fool made the decision to kill her.

002 ♋ VIDEO (backdated to the 15th)

[crabmunicator]

[Karkat appears on screen, looking like he's taken some efforts to make himself presentable, though his hair is as hopeless a mess as ever. That thing does what it wants. It's a monster. His expression is serious, though, and his tone is pretty sedate as he begins to speak.]

So I know I'm not the only person making this kind of post recently, but I kind of need to do this, so here I go adding another to the pile:

I need a job. And unlike a certain self-absorbed tool I'm not here to name - [Eridan, he means you.] - I'm not going to demand one on simple grounds of "I want one, so give it to me."

[Ahem.]

For things I've got experience with, I am a capable leader who led a team of twelve moronic and frustratingly stubborn trolls to victory in what has to be record time. In the interests of proper disclosure, this was not without some mistakes, but I learned from them and fully intend not to repeat their causes.

I'm experienced with sickle fighting and have taken down a ridiculous amount of creatures with them, both individually and while working with others, ranging all over the scale of size and power. I helped defeat something that should have been able to kill my team with voice alone, and that's without listing all the other stuff that made it ridiculously fucking powerful.

I'm good at coding viruses, but I somehow doubt that's going to get me a job, so whatever.

I like books and movies, so if there are any book stores or movie stores - does this place have movies? - I'd be open to those.

I've also got experience doling out romantic advice. Fair warning that this primarily revolved around the topic of troll romance, but I do have fair knowledge of the comparatively simple and stunted form that is human relationships, and am open to learning the intricacies of other systems. That's not even a job thing; it's downright fascinating and I am not here to receive arguments to the amount of "hurr hurr, you like romance!"

[He rolls his eyes, then returns to the serious look.]

Lastly, I'm not above more menial work if it comes down to it. So long as doing the job won't grind my think pan down into a fine paste to be extruded through the tiny holes of my auricular sponge clots, consider me open to the suggestion.

If you have questions, want details, shit like that, then go ahead and ask.

(OOC edit: In light of the plot development, I'm backdating this to yesterday, the 15th.)

on little cat feet...

[malicant]

[Static crawls across the screens as it overwrites whatever your character is currently doing, and words seem to congeal from wisps of fog against the backdrop, thick and sluggish, in a calligraphic hand. There is no ID associated with this little announcement, nor any way to track its source.]

My dearest enthusiast,


 Your work? I'm empressed.

[Too soon?]



[ooc: comments probably won't be replied to but feel free to tag anyway.]

VIDEO || Javert wastes zero time

[inseine]

[A man whom the citizens of Tu Vishan might have glimpsed on occasion fixes a piercing, sharp gaze into the feed. The man is incredibly neat, uncharacteristically clean-shaven, and stern almost to the point of lacking any emotional inflection.

--Save for an unusual trembling tic in his lip when he speaks, and the slight off-center tie of his neck scarf. That indicated, to anyone close enough to be familiar with his habits, that some tremendous excitement boils within him. A hunger sparks deep in his pupils. He speaks at last after a few moments' pause, as if to let the gravity of his expression sink in, and his tone is curt, blunt, and commanding.]

I am looking for any man or woman interested in the case of the recently slashed Madame Emperor.

Who is working on it immediately? I have got the precinct local dossier; so do many of you. But I am sure there are people that have seen more than that. I tell you now to come forward, do not keep it quiet. It is a useless waste to keep the investigations separate. Let us pool the evidence and put our skulls together.

My name is Javert. I am somewhat familiar with kedan police policies, I have spent some time with them. You must call for me quick. I will speak with any that have got something to add.

♒ 5th VIDEO

[unconchonable]

[Maybe it's in bad taste. Maybe it's in bad taste and Eridan really does not give a shit. He's heard the news, and is delighted by it, to be perfectly honest. She was nothing but a disrespectful cur, and the news of her death has left him elated to say the least. When the feed turns on, he's sipping a hot cup of tea (pinky extended), of what type is anyone's guess, but he looks amused as ever.]

I say the bitch got what was comin' to her.

[He takes another long sip. He feels no need to disclose who, when it's probably obvious to anyone with a working think pan.]

Just goes to show that maybe there is some modicum a justice in this place.

voice;

[leviathaned]

[He hadn't really planned on doing this now, but of all time, Sei figures it's appropriate, and also because it's the only way he knows how to give certain evil bugaboos the metaphorical finger. So when the feed clicks on, there is immediately singing, clear as a crystal in a deep, resonating low tenor, leading into Amazing Grace. He waits until the notes die out at the end of the song, and then sighs.]

...I'm afraid such things do not sound as they should from me. But it seems as though it might be necessary.

[With that, he simply signs off, without any real fanfare.]

[OOC: As a completely optional effect, Sei's voice has a magically soothing quality to it! Sort of like amplified tribble. It only lasts for a few hours at bests if you do run with it.]

002 - video

[explosivepenetrators]

[ After all the news of the day, Peter found himself struggling with a very important decision. No one, as far as he knew, had been aware of what lay in his possession when he arrived here. If anyone did, he imagined people would be chasing him down or trying to beat down his door. This was majorly phenomenal cosmic power that they were talking about; imagine anyone being able to bend matter, energy - basically, all of reality - to their whims.

But there was a chance here that the object in his possession, the cosmic cube, could be used to combat whatever flarkin' jerk that was creeping about this place. He knew better than to let it be used for something that could alter history - that was a road no one should ever go down. Taking out this Malicant entity in the here and now, though? What harm would there be in that?

So after hours over agonizing, he finally settled down at his console to address everyone who would listen. ]

Evening, everyone. The name's Peter Quill, if we haven't met before. I'm sorry to be making an introduction at such a somber time, but if we hesitate, we could lose a lot of important time.

[ He paused for just a second. ]

The universe I come from, the things I've dealt with- I'm sure some of you have dealt with similar things in your universes. I've seen cosmic forces take on human and monstrous forms; in my universe, there are people who've spoken to Death herself.

These forces all function on a scale you can't even imagine, and there are things that make even them concerned.

[ Peter's brow furrowed, and his fingers laced together more tightly. ]

When I arrived here, about two weeks ago, I arrived with one of those things in my possession. Some might call it a weapon, but it's way more than that. It was way more than that, at least. [ Here came the hitch. ]

Before I go begging for any and all scientific types and magic-users to come out of the woodwork, and definitely before I let any of you know what I have with me- you all need to know that this thing is broken and needs to be fixed. It's a long shot, but it could be one of our best options in fighting whatever's floating around.

006 | video

[dracobin]

[It is well past nightfall when Temeraire appears on the network, his expression exhausted and his posture hunched.

He has spent the bulk of the day flying, trying to dull his--well, it cannot be called grief, when he did not know the Emperor well enough for that, but it must be something close, surely. One cannot win wars without a few losses of one's own, but this is a price unfairly paid: something stolen and not captured on the field of combat. It is the gravest offense imaginable, for a dragon, and there is as much rumbling anger in his voice as there is sorrow when he speaks.]

Given recent events, there is little point in delaying the matter any longer. I do not know what form our enemy will take when it comes to us, but we must be prepared for any possibility, especially now that Eshai's power can no longer keep it at bay.

To that end, I am announcing the formation of the Keeliai Aerial Corps. There is little point in formation-flying when we cannot predict our enemy's movements, but at the very least those of us who can fly must grow used to flying together, and those of us who can fight must be prepared to do so under any circumstances.

Pray provide your name if you are interested; we will meet once a week at the very least, for target-practice and drills, and we might discuss tactics, and new technologies, as well.

If it brings an army with it, we will at least not be caught unawares.

[corresponding OOC signup thread here!]

Second Apple; Video

[dotsanddashes]

[For the second time, the feed clicks on from Rosalind's console. For the first time, it's actually Rosalind's face on-camera, icy eyes staring right into her prospective audience. She looks awful, for lack of a better word...dark circles under her eyes, gaunt, pale...likely, she hasn't slept in a bit of time.

She's been listening to all the talk, all of the sadness...and in the stillness of her lab, she has something to say.]

I knew very little of the Empress. Still, for what it's worth, no one ascends the throne without realizing it's going to be dangerous. I've seen it before. Different times, different places....

[Columbia. Dimensions apart from this place, but so many of the realities that she once called home. It was hard to think about now, but she tries to reflect on it for just a moment. Comstock had not only tried to mount a throne, but had tried to sit his daughter upon it as well. So many ways that had gone wrong. She can feel something in her brain give, and she changes her train of thought, taking a moment to discretely wipe her nose.]

At the very least she acted with dignity in life. Perhaps it would be best to follow her example.

Mourning is fine. Still, speaking as someone who watched the ridiculous production after her own death, there are more important things to bear in mind. Tears are only for your own purposes. Elaborate memorials will only go so far. It means more to take the time to take action.

Before it's too late to take action at all.

On that note, if there is anything a spare scientific mind might aid, I would like to extend my hand.

[With a weary sigh, she cuts the feed.]


((ADDITIONAL BROADCAST AFTER DAMIAN'S ANONYMOUS CALL))

[A short time later, the feed returns - now the woman is visibly shaking, expression that of barely restrained emotion behind a very thin layer of composure. A lit cigarette burns between trembling fingers.]

I have been informed that Empress was the incorrect term. I did not mean any disrespect. I was not aware. I was trying to say something of consequence, but evidently I am far too ignorant to do so.

[She's at the end of her rope. That much is clear. This...hasn't helped. Her eyes look wet.]

I do apologize. Perhaps I should go back to my work and leave the epitaphs to those less insensitive.

[What might be a tiny sob escapes her before the feed turns back off.]