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[In the interest of reaching a wider audience, Bean has decided not to use his usual anonymous text approach.]

I'm curious, who has had access to the Emperor's library, and what have you found? I don't want my own research to be redundant. Alternately, if you had access, what would you do with it?

If you would prefer not to share your findings with the entirety of the Network, I can make the feed private, or we can meet in person.

Thank you.

bondsprofoundly

[This guy is holding up The Art of Civilized Conversation. His eyes are darting back to the page before he looks back at the camera and-

Oh dear. He smiles. It looks a little creepy to be honest. And for a change he's actually done up the top button of his shirt and cinched his tie, so instead of looking like a freshly-fired office worker drinking until five AM, he looks like a freshly-fired office worker drinking until five AM with his modicum of self-respect still intact.

Castiel refers back to the page.]

Good morning.

[And now he stares at the monitor, only to have his eyes flick up to meet the webcam so he's staring. Directly. At all of you. Intensely.]

It's good to see you.

dunnage

I have heard the Arguments that Time has stopped at Home, and while the Idea brings me slight Peace, I do not believe I can rest here without Consequence.

Inaction is as much of a Crime as active Treachery, and I wish to Help in any Fashion I may. I am able bodied, well used to working in open Seas and under Orders. You shall find my Complaints very few in number, under Condition that any Action asked of me is given fairly, and does not impugn on the Rights of God’s Creatures or against Country.

If I may also inquire, I am still hopeful to locate a dear Friend of mine, a Dragon by the name of Temeraire— or perhaps Lung Tien Xiang. He is of black coloring with blue markings, in the Heavy Weight class and distinguishable by a unique facial ruff and tendrils. If he is occupied, or perhaps if I am gone when He arrives, let Him know that He is missed, that He must take care of Himself, and that William Laurence asks only for Him to be happy, even if He is not near.

Cpt. Wllm Lrnce

fearlessherosheart

[So, this transmission shows a well-dressed (if looking like she fell out of a Renfaire) woman with slightly pointed ears, one who is tall enough that her head is partially cut off in the video image. The undersized bag of groceries confirm that this isn't a matter of sitting too close to the console.]

This cannot be a week’s worth of provisions. It is hardly worth a day or two. Perhaps an Easterner or one of these kedan could live on this, but they are small, so clearly must eat less. Bah, everything here is undersized and cramped.

[Also, someone should really break it to her that a local week is seven days, not five as it is in Tazendra's home country. Before the shopkeepers do.]

One would think that the kedan would spend less time providing us with these sorcerous message devices, and in being ill-mannered to their guests, and more in arranging proper food supplies and their preparation. Cracks in the Orb, it cannot be that difficult to prepare bread. I have seen Srahi or Mica perform the task a thousand times.

Only, I haven't the faintest idea what is the first step. Ah, but I have been sending a message, so perhaps someone will offer their services?

traitre

[ it's a residence-- and one belonging to either a botanist or someone who's just really terrible at taking care of their plants. visible in the background, off to the side, is a series of clay pots all in a row, each filled with exactly one sad plant. there's a wide variety of species in the collection, yet one thing between them remains constant: the black rot that's been consuming flora everywhere on the turtle. apparently someone's been doing his homework.

the speaker shifts in his seat just a tad, just enough to block out the sight behind him with the huge thing (hat??) on his head. he's an unfamiliar face on the network (who could forget an appearance like that?) but judging from the set-up he's got, he's been here quite some time. his is a pleasant, if sharp-featured face-- one made for smiles like the one plastered on right now. ]

All this work and nothing to show for it but a few sorry-looking shoots more withered than I am. [ a little sigh. ] Well! I suppose that's what I get for attempting to cure a symptom rather than its cause.

[ he leans back so he can gesture vaguely behind him, at the experiments set up. ]

I can claim a great deal of experience with plants, doctoring, and the doctoring of plants-- but I'm afraid that this illness eludes me. Surely there're a few more green-thumbed or scientifically-minded individuals among us: perhaps if we combine our efforts, we can get to the... [ and there really is no preventing the self-indulgent little smile here-- ] ...Root of the problem.

jacketswag

[Witness one black eye, two splinted fingers, several exciting bruises, various superficial cuts. There's a big old nick in his leg, too, but nobody gets to see that because Guy's sitting down. Lounging, even.]

[Dramatic entrance. He's making one. Or a dramatic second entrance, anyway.]

I gotta ask if that's how all newcomers are treated. That whole song-and-dance about In Between? Not that I ain't heard weirder, I've heard weirder. But it's up there.

There oughta be something more than a hayride, though. Where's the feasting? Where's the celebration of my glorious arrival? I gotta tell you, I am not impressed.

ironwood

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