Nov. 11th, 2013


Nov. 11th, 2013 11:31 am
lucke: (Runes)
[personal profile] lucke
[Nobody would recognize it as he's (surprisingly) had no company yet, but the video opens to a wide shot of Lancer's apartment. Compared to most, its rather spartan and seems to have only the basic requirements of comfortable living. Empty booze bottles and all.

That is aside from the rows upon rows of racks containing hand carved wooden weaponry, organized by type, lining the walls. Sitting in the midst of all this on the corner of his bed, Lancer has another such weapon balanced on his knees that he's delicately carving with fine tools.

Along the core of the sword are a series of blocky runes (some of our more learned audience might recognize as Celtic) lined up neatly like script. Seemingly finished with the last one, Lancer runs a finger along the carvings. As if warming from his touch they begin to glow a soft, amber hue.

Oye. Fellow imPorts. As it seems to be the custom, let me start by posing you a question: How ready are you to deal with a crisis?

As far as I understand our situation, that lazy bitch Lachesis pulled us all here to do her dirty work. I guess I can give her credit for graciously bestowing those of you that lack the skills of a warrior great powers. But when it comes to war, a weapon is only as deadly as the master wielding it.

We won't be catching a break either: Vulcanus, Red Death, aliens, monsters, alternate dimensions. Heck even the natives of this world. It seems everything is out to get us and its not going to stop. So all we can do is be ready.

I've been talking with a few of you but I thought it was about time to announce my plan to everyone.

[With measured steps he makes his way to one of the nearest racks and places the sword with its brothers before turning back to the screen.]

I'm putting out a call: On November 15th, all those with concern for the well being of others and with any skills worth being passed on to your fellow mates-in-arms will gather for a little training festival. It doesn't need to just be martial skills, but anything that can help a man or woman be prepared for strife and conflict.

Those of you that wish to benefit from this need only bring yourselves and your determination to improve yourself. We can take care of the rest.

[After his heroic speech he seems to deflate a little, putting his hands on his hips and tilting his head a little to the side.]

This is kind of a grand undertaking. And I'm also not above asking for a little help getting this organized. So if you have any alternative ways of supporting the community, I'd be thankful for your assistance. No one man makes a village.

But I will be giving it my all to whip you so called 'Heroes' into shape! So bring your A-Game! And trust me-

[With a crisp snap of his fingers, all the weapons suddenly hummed to life; the runes engraved in each blossoming in multicolored hues like a bed of hanging flowers.]

I'll be ready for you.

[ooc: Hiyo! If anyone would like to discuss specific plotting stuff feel free to PM me, add me on Plurk (Andaluth) or hop on the plotting post located here!]
detriments: (023)
[personal profile] detriments
[The feed clicks on and, as usual, Christine is in her finest attire, blowing smoke between bright red lips, cigarette in her fingertips. As usual, her neck is covered, this time by a white scarf, concealing an ugly scar.]

I had someone back home. [She exhales, chin tipping softy.] Dirk Harriman; that was his name. We worked together, lived together - when we felt like it. He knew me better than anyone else. We were practically married.

Then he cheated on me. [She rolls her eyes, shaking her head. (She fails to mention she cheated on him, first.)] It wasn't the first time. Except this time he did it with my assistant. Classy, right.

[Her speech is slightly different from usual. As though she's talking to an old friend, not to an audience.

She brushes her free hand on the scarf, holding up its end.]

He gave me a scarf like this one. I didn't think it mattered, but - now I can't help thinking about him.

You always seem to remember the things that shouldn't be worth your time.

[Her stare is a little blank, for a moment, lost in her thoughts. She rolls the cigarette in her thumb, biting her lower lip distractedly. Christine isn't sad or nostalgic. She's angry. The sentiment seems to fade when she sighs, tipping the ash off into a tray.]

But that's just human nature, I guess.

So why don't you tell me about your memories. The last thing you remember before coming here. I'm sure they're much more interesting than mine.


capeandcowl: (Default)

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