tushanshu | Entries tagged with † karkat vantas

Sup, bitches.

_{[ Feed of Bro Strider again. Looks like the dude is still wearing his tailored leather jacket, but lacking his typical gray hat today, golden hair looking a complete mess. He runs the back of his palm over his nose, wrinkling it slightly before dropping his arm. His face, as usual, is exceptionally stoic, and as always, his pointed shades cover his eyes. ]}

—Thinking about picking a motherfucking smack down with some people who are interested in actually enhancing their fighting or defense abilities.
The catch...

_{[ He tilts his head up, then drums his fingers on his chin. ]}

—without any use of powers or abilities. Got a few of my own. Pinky-fucking-promise I won't use.
Non-projectile weapons are acceptable. Like swords.

If anyone wants to train with me, holla'.
Peace.

unconchonable

[The feed turns on to show Eridan, surely his is a face everyone wants to see so soon, especially after his last post. Though, he looks really fidgety. Drumming his fingers on the desk as he starts:]

So, back when I was on my planet, Alternia, I used to do this thing. Orphanin'. Y'know, go around killin' the lusii a other trolls. I mean, it serwed a purpose, was no mindless slaughter or the like. Was actually a pretty damn honorable job to hawe. Probably the most if I'm bein' honest here. Thankless though it were.

[Is this story time with Eridan? It is possible. The finger drumming ~~intensifies~~ continues. His fins are even flicking here and there with notable agitation as he tries to keep up the ruse of being anything but. Stoic is the aim, but sadly Eridan's aim falls pretty far from the mark when it concerns anything that ain't a gun or wand.]

See, it was called Orphanin', 'cos unlike you pink animals who raise their young all weird an' sympathetic-like, we trolls are taken in by beasts-- [as if on cue, there's a rather large white seahorse peeking into view. Eridan spares him a glance, before shoving his head out of view. He's really a polite child, even to the creature that raised him. But hey, maybe that explains a few things! How mannerly could a guy even be when he was raised by a giant floating seahorse?]

--anyway, it was my job to lay slaughter to a good amount a them, leawin' many a troll without their lusus, like I was some kickass royal slayer or some such. Which I was, don't need you lot thinkin' different and such. The ocean was my killin' cauldron, really...

[He lets out a near dreamy sigh recalling those good memories. But honestly, it just frustrates him more than anything.]

...kinda got off track there for a sec, the whole bloody point a this is to say I'm pretty fuckin' restless as a late, an' sponge numbingly bored. I'm more used to hawin' far more... [violent] things to do.

So, I figured to myself, that I'd ask you lot if you knew a any places where there may be a influx a beasts. I think my intentions are obwious, but I mean, if I don't do somethin' and soon I may be liable to kill someone outta boredom.

[A PAUSE FOR DRAMATIC EFFECT...]

An exaggeration, a course.

HOWEWER, I suppose I could shed some consideration an' ask if you pink skinned beasts got some sorta taboo concernin' the harm a random beasts, but surely you ain't that sensitiwe of a species... right?

[See, He can totally be all sorts of considerate, nothing but consideration here! He's even aiming his pent up violent frustrations at animals and not people!! Such consideration. He's like a dog that's been in its kennel all day with no way to burn off that violent energy, so he's... trying, at least?]

Or, if any a you got any better ideas, I guess I'm willin' to listen to it. But it better not be something's stupid like "hawe you tried not bein' wiolent?" 'Cos fuck that noise.

isnotokay

[ When the video feed starts, it shows Annie in her uniform jacket with a distinctly flat expression that military sorts might recognize as a thousand-yard stare. The silence drags on unreasonably, though she doesn’t give any indication that she thinks it as such. (Hint: She doesn’t.) Finally, she speaks in a tone that's apathetic: ] Is natural gas available in this place? I need it to fill a certain type of canister.

[ Not that she needs it right now, but she lifts one of the canisters from her 3DMG to show it. There's a strategic value to this move by pretending she's lost that advantage. ]

Ah, I should ask after my squad, shouldn’t I? [ She says it almost as an afterthought. So she introduces herself bluntly: ] Annie Leonhart. Stohess District MP, under acting squad leader Marlowe Freudenberg.

[ Because apparently that should do the trick, right? Terse to a fault in such an unusual situation, she abruptly shuts off the feed. ]

myownbestfriend

[Say hello to Emma Frost, an intimidatingly beautiful but apparently normal human woman who is not especially pleased to be on a giant turtle and drafted into some kind of metaphysical war. She's got it dialed down to an aura of vague irritation, though, and she leans back in the large desk chair that came with her Fire Sector suite. The deep brown of the leather sets off her pale coloration and low-cut white X-Men uniform to excellent effect, and if you think she didn't plan that, you haven't met Emma.]

Please tell me there's a half-decent salon somewhere on this planet.

[If she has to do her own roots she's switching to diamond form until the problem is resolved, see if she doesn't.

Yes, yes, Malicant, a murdered emperor, giant turtles all but extinct, a world on the verge of destruction...but none of those are the sort of thing one ought to ask stupid questions about in public, now are they?]

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.

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.

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.)

puppetfetish

_{[ While other people are out and about in the snow, this certain Texan is staying indoors as much as possible.
Hey turtle-crew. Here is mysterious text guy that has been bothering you over the past week or so. Looks like he's climbed out of his shell and onto video, though it isn't his preferred method (in actuality, Bro prefers to be the person behind the camera... but that's another story.) The dude is tall, and his flaxen hair is spiked high. It typically is covered by a hat, but this evening, it seems he's going without. He's also wearing a black undershirt with black slacks, sculpted muscles rippling with his movement. ]}

Hey.

_{[ So what could this six-foot-something-tall, beef-cake guy want? The way he was stoically looking at the camera was a bit intimidating, umber colored eyes hidden by a pair of pointed shades. Behind him in his suite there seems to be a mess of all sorts of fabrics and materials he has obtained, along with a stray sewing machine.

He looks off to the side for a moment, lacking any expression, then turns his attention back to the feed. ]}

I'm selling handmade cute shit.
Come and get it.

_{[ .... Okay? Not what you'd expect from a guy with his looks and physique, also not the greatest sales pitch, but maybe you ought to inquire further. ]}

Also taking commissions.
Bitches love commissions.

_{[ /end feed right there. ]}

dow

Recently, I bought a personal item from one of the auctions in Markutte. In light of recent network posts of a festive Terran nature and having been exposed to Christmas before with far more ceremony, purely out of deference for a family member, I am aware that giving is very much in the spirit of the season. As purchasing gifts for a wide range of individuals would be a waste of resources and time which I must covet for my scientific studies, I am instead inclined to use the instrument in my possession.

It is a Vulcan harp.

[ Instruments, literal instrument ... Get it? ~~Whatever, his attempts at humor are golden.~~ Straight-faced, Spock leans back in his chair and settles it against his right shoulder, beginning to play. His left hand is bandaged, but he pays it no mind; after the post, green blood will have bitten through and the wraps will need changing.

Firstly, Brahms Intermezzo is played to invest people in the music he studied intently during his recreational time as a child. Shortly after that lulls to a close, you might think this stuffy Vulcan has nothing more interesting to offer but, son, you would be wrong. Music is mathematics, after all, and Spock adjusts the knobs on the instrument to alter the octaves and sounds to more of a guitar-quality. That's when he delves into an improvised piece still kicking around his memory, composed long before he set foot on the Enterprise. His final performance is a gentle carol he is very familiar with, for his own personal reasons, and he doesn't rush it into the previous natural rhythm in the slightest, almost playing for someone ... who has expressed their preferences on the matter before. (Perhaps the family member he mentioned at the start, for attentive listeners.)

The song is Silent Night. ]

( OOC: Vulcan harps/lyres are ridiculous, but these are the sound ranges, for reference. )

guiltapalooza

[Willow looks tired, faintly strung out, and somewhat tense. She's clearly a little on edge and trying to redirect the energy somewhere else.]

Whoo, okay, I think I am liable to go actually crazy if I don't do something that's not meditating sometime soon. There is only so much communing with the turtle energy a girl can do before crazy happens, and crazy on me is a bad, bad look. There's a whole Darth Rosenberg deal I'm trying to avoid.

Does anyone want to do something? Previous conversation not required to apply! I'll do anything, just provide reasonably friendly social interaction and I'm there.

Oh, and, I'm still available to do spells and stuff for people if anyone wants to hire me. I might not be able to get to it for a while because I have a... a major project I have to finish up first, but I do have some things in stock if anyone wants something? Um. Let me know.

Even if I feel like I'm gonna reach magic overload sometime soon. Never thought I'd say that.

( Private to Loki. )

( Private to Tony Stark (MCU). )

unconchonable

[The feed turns on and there's none other than Eridan Ampora with his arms across his chest staring right at the viewer. He's still without his cape, so he's just in his usual sweater with the purple aquarius symbol on the front, and his dumb blue striped scarf. However, behind him certainly is a giant, floating, white seahorse. Fancy that. Also, anyone familiar with Spock's residence may notice that he's there instead of his own place. ~Hivvemates~. His eyebrow quirks upward after a full second or so, as if maybe trying to figure out what to say, but eventually he does speak.]

So I'we come to the conclusion that I may need a more stable means a income. Recently I hawe more or less emptied my coffers a beetles, so to speak, in a purchase that was downright necessary and I rather myself a steady income.

[He leans in, his folded arms pressing onto the flat surface of the desk as he leans on them, effectively bringing himself closer to the camera.]

Now, before any a you pink-skinned animals come to me giwin' me some sorta peasant work, I ain't interested. Plain and flippin' simple. I am willin' to lower myself to work for the juulan, but I ain't about to demean myself in some way fuckin' awful. I'm a prince, and I will be treated accordin'ly. And as such, I expect dignified jobs worthy a my expertise and standin'.

[One hand raises to cup his chin, his fingers curling against his jaw and cheek.]

So, consider this my way a beseechin' you employers out there. If you need any additional information about me, feel free to use this to giwe me a questionnaire a sorts, or whatewer it is you need.

[It is pretty dang obvious that Eridan knows near to nothing about how hiring processes work. The way Alternia did things was he just sorta... pillaged what he could. Made sense, made use of what he's good at.]

I figure I may as well go this diplomatic route - despite diplomacy newer quite bein' my thing - considerin' the other way may leawe a few a you dirtscrapers a bit sore an' sorry, so consider this just a fraction a my magnanimity, so don't go spittin' in my face an' makin' me regret it. I could always go for my first choice an' do things Alternian style, after all.

[Yeah. He lets that threat linger there for a few good moments, even a bit of a 'try me look' into the camera, before he settles back into his seat, arms freshly folded over his chest again.]

I'm waitin'.

superieure

[ Monet is seated, one leg crossed over the other, arms folded, lips curled into a smile, immaculately dressed as always, regarding the camera with a critical eye. In front of her is a chessboard, all set out for a game. She’s chosen black, so white faces the viewer. ]

I require an opponent.

puppetfetish

_{[ Right. Bro has seen enough weird shit in his life, he can understand waking up in a basin of water and being told he's supposed to fight some sort of war— but this wasn't how things were meant to be.

This really was not what he had read up on when first issuing his copies of Sburb.
This wasn't how the game was meant to be played.

Once he saw his own sword bare into his body and fell to the ground, he knew it would be game over for him and can only hope all of the training he had given Dave was good enough.
He can only hope and wish that everything he had done was well enough.
However, to find himself in such a strange and foreign environment, Bro's instinctive reaction is to play it calm and cool and leech out as much information about this place as possible. Inquiring about the place was pointless; people told him to hush— it was the Emperor's business.

Whatever.

Understanding the mere gist of things isn't good enough for Bro Strider. He needs detail. Every single detail he can muster up and find out.
So, once he quickly understands how to work the console, he sends out the massive text with the most important question: ]}

yo keeliai.
a/s/l.

spiderkid

Does anyone else miss traditions from home? Like, I know people did Thanksgiving, but I mean smaller stuff, like... Like every year on my birthday my friend Ganke and I go out to this arcade place. It's just weird to think that that didn't happen this year.

[Okay, yes, this is Miles' way of admitting that his birthday came and went without being celebrated, and that's weird for him. He misses his friends and family, and is jealous of people on the turtle who have that.]

I dunno, I just thought I'd ask. I was just curious, I guess.

friendstime

[So there's a slightly rough looking young man transmitting over the consoles. He looks like a High School delinquent with heavily gelled hair and an open jacket that might be a school uniform. Maybe. He starts out by staring intensely at the display, as if he's going for a staring contest.

Yup. Totally ready for this. Any day now.]

Ah. Is it working?

[He's going to assume it is. The teenager brushes back the sides of his pompadour haircut, making sure it is in place so he can make a good impression. And then he takes a deep breath and begins.]

Oi, Kengo! You there? Maybe not... Anyway, the people outside told me some stuff about bein' stuck here cause of some business for this Emperor person! So I wanna say something. If you're watchin' this, Emperor, I don't like that you bring people here without asking first. Even if you need help, you gotta think of other people's feelings to. That's just natural, ya know?

Everybody else, since we're all here, I guess that makes us new neighbors. So I'm jus' gonna get this out of the way now. My name's Kisaragi Gentarou, and I'm the man that's gonna befriend everyone in this city!

[He says that loudly, as if he just challenged the whole population to a fight. He even points at the screen as if to say that means you.]

Right. So that's what I have to say.

[And he finishes off with a short salute and some fumbling with buttons as he figures out how to disconnect.]

crabmunicator

[The post begins with a shot of Karkat's grey, frowning face. This is not actually unusual, but lest it be dismissed as no more than his usual expression, there is the tone of his words to follow.]

Guess what! Apparently it's not enough for a guy to to learn one of the friends he hasn't seen in literal years is brainwashed and crazy. Apparently it's not enough to be informed that his Empress--not this "Emperor" here, the actual one from my world--expects him to just bow and scrape and go yes, your Condescension, I'd be happy to serve as your brand spanking new slave. It is not even enough, believe it or not, to be brutally murdered by giant fork by an even crazier broad than your brainwashed friend! Wow, who knew, right?

[He makes an exaggerated roll of his eyes.]

Instead of getting off that easy, nevermind the brief stint of amnesia and all the other chaos going on, I get brought here. Some giant fucking turtle in the middle of whatever planet this is, I don't care, don't even try to tell me because I am fresh out of shits to give. And for some kind of war against this M--

[He throws up his hands.]

Whoops! Can't say the M-name because magic is real and he might come get us. Wow, I am quaking so hard I might just barf up my organs in fear.

But let's stop being retarded for a while, shall we?

[His expression turns more serious, and his arms fold against the desk as he leans in closer.]

Who's here that knows me? Anyone? On my team or not, I want to know, and I want to know promptly. Beyond that, who here has any clue about getting out of this place? I didn't ask those keddy whatevers because obviously I wouldn't have been brought here if the point was just to let me waltz back to where I was. And yeah, yeah, I heard time is stopped there, but do you think I'd be asking this if I cared about that? I have big, important, leaderly business to do, and I cannot summon the electrical impulse to fire the neurons that would make me care about this mandatory break in plans. If you have info, I want to hear it, the end.

[And with that, he ends the video.]

ironwood

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Tu Shanshu

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