futurology | Entries tagged with meallan lavellan (dragon age)

[As when storm-bruised clouds cast their dark pall over the sky, a harbinger of the torrent and tempest to come, so appears the countenance of Peleus' son. He is harnessed in the glorious armor that lame-foot Hephaestus did forge for him, and upon his head fiercely glints the golden helmet which once served as a beacon to the Myrmidons and all of the vast host of war-loving Argives. Like the thunder that is hurled by almighty Zeus who bears the aegis, his voice roars out over the network.]

Koltira, you whose heart is blackened with vile hatred! Hear now the son of Peleus, Achilles, best of all the Achaeans - I whose pride was rent by your blade when you did raise arms without first issuing a proper challenge as is honorable between warriors. I demand that you meet me in single combat, that I may avenge myself and slake my spear upon your blood. Meet me then to the east of the town ere the sun touches the far horizon, where it settles for the night into the couch of the desert - unless the worm of cowardice burrows deep within your breast to weaken your fighting spirit!

It is for this reason that I give my challenge in this public forum, that others may bear witness and hold you accountable to this duel. What say you, Koltira? Recoil not from the bloodshed you so take pleasure in! Long has my anger rankled in my breast, and long has my pride festered without salve potent enough to soothe it, for the cure lies only in victory by dint of my spear. Thus, today I wait no more!

[In the colloquialisms of the locals: This town ain't big enough for the both of us.]

respired

[ Koltira's sitting on a flat rock, long legs stretched out, a bottle of something dark and high proof in one hand--a souvenir from the remains of the saloon. He's surrounded by cacti and tall, spiky yucca plants; the silhouette of Perdition's Rest is not far behind him, due west. He's close enough to reach by a quick walk, but not so close that he's in the middle of everyone and their campfires and their singing and their camaraderie and so on. A thin dusting of snow coats everything, though close inspection reveals a mirror-like sheet of ice slowly crackling its way into being over the rock, as though animated of its own accord.

A few people have seen him since that terrible week, but not many. He's cleaned up since then. No more chains. Back in his fine, planet-appropriate clothes--long, black coat, stylish hat, boots with sharp spurs. He has new, red tattoos on one hand, and his pale hair is done up in a thick braid that falls over his shoulder.

He leans forward, pulling his right leg up and draping his arm over his knee. He looks miserable. And a little drunk. ]

No one regrets what transpired more than me. I was not in control of myself, though it's no excuse. An apology feels weak and inadequate, but you have it from me, a hundred times, a thousand times.

[ He takes a drink from the bottle. A long drink. ]

I will do what I can to atone, within reason. If you wish me never to look your way again, I will not. If you wish to strike me, you may, though I will defend myself against a lethal blow. If you have something else in mind, tell me.

I will work with Sieglinde, for whatever fruit that bears. It may bear nothing, but I'll endure the attempt.

[ The guilt in his expression, pulling at his mouth and furrowing his eyebrows, hardens. He clenches his jaw. ]

Yet, understand this. I will never be a slave again. Not to any of you, nor to anyone else. I will not beg, and I will not scrape. I will not kneel. And you do not have the right to decide my destiny. None of you do. That's my decision, and mine alone.

[ He sets the bottle down. Shuts his eyes. Last time this happened, he had given a lengthy explanation. He had laid bare the facts of himself: what he was, how he came to be that way. But not this time. He will not open a vein for nothing; he will not suffer dismissal on top of scorn. Not over his past.

Besides, as guilty as he is, as deeply and truly remorseful, he's still angry, too. ]

I have nothing more to say.

strikingtwice

[The image is focused on a deck of cards in Meallan's hands (one hand golden and the other flesh) that flash from hand to hand in glimpses as he shuffles them, and those with good eyes might pick out cards that don't match suits they're familiar with: A serpent of deceit perhaps, or a knight of sacrifice. Past the cards is a bottle of something strong and a few glasses, one of which has some liquid in it, and there's a decent amount missing from the bottle already. There's still plenty to share, however, and that's Meallan's goal as he speaks.]

I could use some company and I haven't played Wicked Grace in some time. I don't imagine many people know the rules but it's easy enough to pick up and if anyone knows other games then we could easily play something else instead.

[[ooc: related log here]]

fateality

Well, I gotta say, despite all of the little disasters peppering around here, it ain't all bad.

If I got my timing right, 'bout this time of year, I'd have just missed the Harrowing. Don't reckon any of you really know what it is, but it's a little year time tradition where I'm from -- and I'm all too happy to miss out on it.

[He chuckles to himself:] Shame about Snow Day, though, I suppose.

In any case. Thinkin' about it, I was a little curious if any of you were missin' out on some... festivities back home? Or did you dodge a bullet?

Since we have such a colorful bunch here, didn't figure it hurt to ask.

viscontree

This is Julius Visconti reporting in. It's been so long since I last spoke up. I figured that I should say something in case anyone was worrying. There's nothing wrong on on my end, thankfully. [He just went out for five months straight...on a mission he didn't even enjoy all that much.]

Anyways, let's move on. [Enough about that!!]

Today I'd like to ask about weapons. In your opinion, what's the most efficient and effective weapon?

Personally I prefer using assault guns for ranged attacks. We all come from different places so I expect to hear unique answers.

Alternatively, if you aren't armed with a weapon and wish to learn how to fight I could be of some assistance. You can meet up with me at the local trading post. That's all for now. Thanks for your time.

mayora13

[If that train ride was any indication, the dangers noted in their dossiers were absolutely real. Seeing so many of the Qorral armed only confirmed the necessity for more coordination than they'd had on the previous mission.

Being the ~~control freak~~ police officer that he was, Hijikata wouldn't waste any time setting something up.]

This mission needs coordination, there's a lot of 'bad land' between us and the Deemers. [Could they hire locals to escort them? Maybe. At a price that was sure to gouge their pockets.]

We'll need to travel in groups. Each one should have several who can fight, and at least one who can negotiate. No one goes alone.

I'll organize them if necessary, but you guys can use this to find your own too. [He doesn't want to hold everyone's damn hands. Just most of them? He'll step in if he deems it necessary.]

So reply with the following information:

1) Name
2) Skill Set
3) Availability
4) Supplies in Possession
5) Supplies Needed / Special Accommodations

fateality

[Twisted Fate is sitting comfortably in the mess hall, his feet propped up on the table as he leans back in his seat. In his arms is a guitar ~~where did he get that, don't think about it too hard~~ that he's strumming idly.]

Well, now that I figure we're all either settlin' in from getting recruited, or recovering from time travel shenanigans.

[Another faint guitar strum.]

I had a thought, on account of our dragon-y friend offering flights. And hell, I certainly don't see any reason to oppose the concept.

I'm feelin' a little generous, folks. A little creative.

Tell me what sort of story you'd care to hear, and I'll spin you a tale.

[And a final guitar strum before he fiddles with the strings.]

asscan

[It's a couple of days before the mission will take precedence, and Laedo has finally recovered from his embarrassing childhood-throwback. The tone around the castle has been sombre, embarrassed... and he's learned a few things in his months trying to fit in among humans.

One of those things he's learned is that bipeds motherfucking love a dragonback ride... and given he needs to pack so little, the idea strikes him to offer, if only to fill his days and cheer those up who have never had their flat feet leave the ground.

So here he is, reclining in the sunny courtyard, scudding clouds chugging along the fragment of sky above and behind him as he peers into his jewel, and the network at large.]

Who among you would like to touch the sky? I do not offer often, but I am willing to trade the pleasure for later favours... providing you can contain yourselves not to dig in heels or pull at hair.

[Still, his tone is less arch than it has been in the past. He's been working hard to gain perspective. He doesn't want to start this next mission on the wrong foot.]

respired

[ Koltira's back to his usual self once again--his hair pale as ice, his eyes burning with lichfire. His skin sallow, tinted with hypothermia, and shot through with spiderweb cracks. He wears the black ALASTAIR uniform as he sits on the edge of his bed, twisting a new ring around one gloved finger.

Beside him, his lynx cub rolls around sleepily.

His voice is still deceptively lilting, but the ethereal echo, the underscore of a guttural scratch, haunts him. ]

I must ask for a favor, should you have the capacity to grant it.

[ He glances back at the lynx cub. ]

The dead are not meant to care for the living. If one of you would take responsibility for this creature, I'd consider myself in your debt.

[ A pause. He frowns slightly as he goes on. ]

Recently, some of you met me as I once was. Understand something now. That man is gone. He died nearly twenty years ago, and nothing--nothing--of him remains in me. His house is ash, and cannot be recovered.

[ Not entirely true, though Koltira maintains otherwise.

Another beat, longer this time, as if he's unsure whether to keep talking. But, eventually: ]

Many of you recognized me, yet you did not ruin the past with visions of the future. For this ... I thank you.

[ And that's all. ]

sereneflame

[For the last week Serene has been completely missing but now here she is, sitting on her bed and grinning widely. Her formally pale face is now deeply tanned, far more than those few weeks on Zeta-12 could have left her, and her bare, paler shoulders look more firmly muscled than before]

Am I dreaming or am I here? [If your character speaks Persian well, she'll sound like she has an atrocious accent. If your character isn't fluent they likely have no idea what she's just said.

She laughs, rubs her face]

I hope I'm speaking a language most of you understand, but who knows what you strange earth-humen speak. Hold on!

[Her eyes narrow in concentration and text slowly appears on screen]

Hello! I am Serene Charlord, a newly arrived yet not a new recruit. It has been near two years since I have walked these halls but I see this place is as strange and chaotic as I recall.

Are there any here who still remember me? I hope so, for I have spent the last two years hitting my forehead as I think of questions I should have asked about your realities while I still had the chance. I am not sure what power has drawn me back here again, but I would not be surprised if it was the force of my curiosity.

[By the time she comes to the end of that text she's biting the tip of her tongue between her teeth. She considers her words and shrugs, grinning again]

There! Now I have covered everyone. Hello, my old friends and enemies. I look forward to meeting you again.

evantuality

Hey, uh...

[Just Evan's voice comes through the network, and quietly at that. It's some terrible wee hour of the morning, that liminal time when no one should really be awake. The moon has set, not that Evan has his curtains open to let the stars interrupt his small bubble of quiet.

At home he'd pop on a tablet, see if any of his friends from other timezones were online, shoot the shit before sleep took him again. Here, there's no such such luck for an easy distraction, but perhaps the ALASTAIR recruits can make use of the same principles.]

Anyone else awake?

[Insomniacs unite: surely there's got to be one or two other night-birds out there.]

whatshimadayou

The drinks were acceptable and the accommodations adequate. Though I doubt I am not the first to express distaste for the situation itself, there is not much to be done at this time other than to do what we were brought to do.

So.
Children will be involved, more or less.

I have only one recommendation: do not impose a lesson you yourself deemed unnecessary as a child.
Something to bear in mind.

meramera

( what up, futuro. the message comes in the form of video transmission without preamble or introduction, but he doesn't really need that, anyway. )

Looks like ALASTAIR's assembled a whole collection of characters from across the universes, huh? Pardon my asking, but what're your homelands like? Figure if I'm not gonna go elsewhere anytime soon, it'd be interesting to hear about yours. Since, you know - we've got a bit of downtime.

sereneflame

[Serene has never tried making these posts before and thus she's as formal as if she's making a speech, keeping her voice well-modulated and calm. She's matter of fact, unembarrassed by the subject she's raising]

Good afternoon. I hope that someone can help me in an urgent matter, but I fear this is a long shot.

I am looking for the wombsbane herb and I was wondering: are any of you cultivating a patch in private? Back home it grows as free as a weed but I have trekked through the gardens and forest here and have not seen as much as a seedling.

If not, are there any herbs from other worlds here that will lighten my menstruation and will render my womb barren? Womanhood is a burden I like to minimise as much as possible.

I thank you in advance for your time.

OOC: replies will come tomorrow!

heavyhitter

So we got a buncha old fashioned guys who are used to swinging around swords all the time and stuff, right? It seems like it, I can't go 20 feet without tripping over someone that's never seen a minipad before. God, would it kill that rift stuff to start taking more people from the modern era?

Anyway, point is I need one of you guys — or, hell, a buncha you guys — to start teaching. I've got some students in mind, foremost being me, because the training room here doesn't cut it if you've never even seen a fucking sword before. And if anyone else sucks at medieval stuff too lemme know, we'll make it a whole party.

Achilles and Koltira, you guys are my top medieval guys that know what you're doing, don't you fucking ignore this.

[ a beat ]

Also, I've got this little super strength issue where I might break any weapons I try and use, so... there's that, too. Still working on that obstacle. Any ideas, lemme know.

[ ooc: here's a planning post for teaching stuff!! ]

stonebird

(To say she is shaken is putting it mildly - and kindly. Alayne isn't sure she can stand on her own two feet when she lands - yes lands. It seems falling through the rift originally is not the only fright she will be receiving from this...adventure.

She is sick to death of adventures - or, no, perhaps Alayne isn't. She did visit the East and she chose to travel across the sea to see her father.

But this is...not the same. A sea doesn't have any magical or mystical properties. A sea cannot, in the blink of an eye, carry you from one place to another.

Though she is shaking in fear, she decides to reach out for answers - for hope - for guidance. She must be strong.)

My name is Alayne Stone. I am the daughter of Petyr Baelish and I hail from the Eyrie.

(There, beginnings are proper. She cannot be too panicked to forget her courtesies!)

What am I to do...? I thought it was strange to be hired for such a mission, but it has only gotten stranger. I feel I am dreaming.

(She must have hit her head. Yes, that is a comforting theory, however her dreams have never been so...surreal.)

respired

[ Koltira's standing in what seems to be some kind of schoolhouse theater. There's a projector beside him, largely untouched by the ravages of water or time, and a clear enough screen just ahead. The room itself is still in shambles; the floor is thick with debris and student paraphernalia--books, pens, ripped sheets of paper. Koltira taps his fingers on the projector, agitated.

Ashraf and Kida are nearby, looking on, though the frame does not show either of them fully. ]

I have something to show you.

[ His deep voice is low, still, dangerous. Tight with barely constrained rage. He presses a button on the projector, and turns his jewelry so that the screen fills the frame.

The following scene plays: ]

( cut for DEATH N DESTRUCTION )

ackingcraycray

[A little waterlogged, sorta banged up, and a touch too close to the camera is Mabel Pines. She glowers, frowning until the edges of her mouth nearly meet her jaw.]

Dipper Pines.

If by chance, you can see this, then please. ANSWER YOUR DARN MESSAGES YOU BIG FAT POOPFACE!!!

[That said, she retreats to a more comfortable distance. It's clear now that she's inside a small, darkened building. A glass window has been blown out to her left. Judging from the piping behind her and the boiler in the back, this was some kind of utility hut. A power source, perhaps. Pawing his way up into her lap is an equally soggy and forlorn looking lion cub, who's trying to make a nest out of her sweater. Mabel cuddles him with one arm and rubs at his ears as she speaks into her bracelet. A smile has been fixed back onto her face and the usual pep she speaks with has usurped the ire.]

To anyone else who gets this, hello! If we haven't met, I'm Mabel. How are you? I hope you're doing dandy. That storm was a real doozy, huh? A real old people sweeper. I got swept onto a whole other island! A creepy, weird, underwater but not underwater island with a whole bunch of terrifying buildings and dead fish. I think they're fish.

[She turns the camera to the corner. There lies a greenish-blue blob the size of a Great Dane, with six pointed spines and one blind eye turned to the ceiling. Its fishy mouth lays open as if it died mid-scream.]

Look at that. Isn't the world majestic? Who knew such rich wildlife was swimming several hundred miles under our feet?

Anyway! I'm fine. I think everyone should come check this out though, there's some weird stuff going on here. Besides the obvious. There's a whole lost civilization here, and I'm gonna check it out some more for you guys, but right now I'm just uh. Warming up. Taking a ten. If anyone has any tips on how to start a fire I might try grilling up the catch of the day over there. Sorry Samson. [She clucks her tongue at her expired companion in the corner. She's named it already.] Fish gotta swim, birds gotta eat. Y'all are welcome at the barbecue by the way! There's plenty of blob here for everyone!

[And, with a not-so-subtle clearing of the throat and a definite dimming of cheer:]

Also if you see Dipper, please let me know and tell him to call his sister! He looks like me, but less cool and with a hat.

That's it for now. Later guys!

((OOC: I'm gone most of today but I will be here late evening and all the rest of the week!))

figureitout

Okay, seriously, is this for real?

[ Hello there, fellow recruits! Today, the network brings you a fascinating video of... a hand. A hand that is waving, though less in a hello-how-are-you way and more in a I-am-so-done-with-everything way.

The hand pulls back, though, revealing an arm clad in green-grey plaid shirt (don't knock the plaid, okay, the plaid is eternal)... and eventually, the face of a teenager. Who is currently making the most judging face you will ever see in your life. ]

What kind of bomb needs fish hearts and sea urchins? It's like someone just threw together a list for the most random and incidentally dangerous things they could think of. And do you even need these anymore? Is the bomb a thing? I mean, the briefing I got was... uh, let's just say hurried. [ More like non-existent, but, yeah.

Stiles pauses, like something has just occurred to him. ]

... Right, probably should've started with that. The "hi weird jewel amulet I literally just got here and have no idea about anything" thing. And also the "I really hope someone actually sees this and I'm not sitting here and talking to a piece of jewelry" thing. Does this work? Is this working?

[ He leans in and pokes the jewel. ] For my own peace of mind, I'm saying it's working. I mean, magic jewels is, like, the least weird thing about all of this. [ Wish he'd shut up yet? Sorry, you are currently subjected to the Talkamus Stilinskimus, a very un-rare case of rambling that occurs whenever Stiles so much as opens his mouth.

Your wish is about to be fulfilled, though, as he claps his hands together. ]

Anyway! Go... team? [ ... such eloquence. But in his defense, no one ever told him talking to invisible people you don't even know actually exist would be this awkward.

That is the last sight of him anyone on the network sees, though his voice still follows, almost like he can't stop the think-at-the-jewel-and-it-will-broadcast quickly enough. ]

... is there a team? Man, I hope there's a team.

kikoku

[There's a new face on the network today, with a demeanor as morose as his chosen username would suggest.]
I don't know much about this mission they've sent us on. I was told I'd "find out when I get there."

So, I'm here.
[Indeed, you can see the tropical landscape of Koma in the background. Law himself is looking decidedly less tropical with his furry hat and sour face, but he was just accidentally kidnapped and all but forced against his will to go on a crazy rescue mission. That kind of shit can ruin your day pretty easily.]

Someone tell me what I'm supposed to be doing. I'm hearing something about a volcano but- [Law stops short as a passing Nalawi bumps into him in their hurry to get wherever it is they are going. His only reaction is to sigh deeply.]
the... locals don't seem to know much.

[He pauses, and for a moment it looks like he's about to end the feed, but at the last moment he thinks to add;]
Also, those uniforms better be optional because I'm not wearing that.

FUTUROLOGY NETWORK.

Entries tagged with meallan lavellan (dragon age)

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003 Video/text @SERENE

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