heroica: (you can call us what you want)
[personal profile] heroica
[ Unlike her announcement of Leliana's departure, this one does not reveal her voice. It's only text, written word with the author's feelings left implied, and less verbose than last time, too. ]

Alistair has gone. His room is empty and his things have vanished. As his fellow Grey Warden, I thought it best to inform those who may have known him.

[ Leliana, Brennan, Dorian. Alistair, too, now. All of her closest friends in Wonderland seem to be steadily vanishing (and she hasn't heard of Bethany Hawke, yet, another one who would be regretfully added to the list). ]

He was exactly what a Warden should be. He was brave and kind and with a good heart.

[ Ridiculous jokes and all.

Soon after, she sends out one private message to Anders: ]


Anders,

Alistair left behind Purrlock. Do cats and mabari get along? Could you teach me how to take care of a kitten, if you have the time?
narcissistictendencies: (You just scared the Devil outta me.)
[personal profile] narcissistictendencies
[There's a familiar face on the network, but it looks a little... battered. He acts as if he doesn't realise he looks pretty rough right now. Bandages? Nope. That would require a delicate touch and his delicate touch is "taking a break"...]

Lookit me, I'm back and conveniently located... not where I used to be, but the room looks the same, so whatever. I even found this [He holds up a stuffed squirrel by the neck.] in my toolbox, so same ol' same ol'.

Other than that, what've I missed?

Anyway, before you ask, Rogers: Yes. And, Everything. So that happened. We need to talk. [He holds up a rather archaic phone Steve will recognise and wiggles it back and forth for emphasis, then mouths the words "call me" in a mock-flirtatious manner.]

Stark out.
heroica: (everybody lets you down)
[personal profile] heroica
Greetings. [ Comes the voice and face of Robyn Cousland, looking chipper enough for someone who has recently lost her three closest friends from Wonderland. Her hair is braided neatly and it's evident she's outside somewhere from the glare brought on by the sun high overhead. ] After my conscription, I picked up a few new skills here and there, but nothing in as much depth as I'd like. [ There just hadn't been time for thorough weapons training, not when you're responsible for the general welfare of a country. ] I think Wonderland may be a good chance to try that again.

I have extensive training in crossbow use and some in short and longbows, but I'd like to branch out to other areas. I learned a little with daggers and knives in Ferelden, but I'd also like to take up with a smaller sword and shield, at least, if anyone trained as a warrior has the time. [ beat ] I'm not a mage, so magic is out of the question, though I do know that that... works a little differently from world to world.

[ Nearby is the impatient huff of a horse and the Warden glances that way, smiling. ]

I'm going riding this morning, but I'd like to start training this afternoon, if I can. [ There's another thoughtful pause. ] It's paid to stay sharp, here, hasn't it?

[ Considering. There's a preemptive sort of inhale, and then she vanishes from the network. ]
failedparenting: (16: Brainstorming)
[personal profile] failedparenting
[John decided he's just stay away from the network for a while after getting shouted down for arming children. In retrospect, he should've done a little more intensive background on the kids here, but that would've been bordering on creepy. And there's nothing wrong with guns anyway, you're all terrible.

But regardless of guns and kids, he's back today. Not with lessons, but questions, snooping like the other old farts around here love to do.]


what's magic like where you're from? does it exist? is it more fucking witches making people's teeth fall out or goddamn fairy dust and unicorns? does anyone come from a place with magic like Wonderland?

most importantly: does the magic from your world work here?
walkingheroin: (consultthemuses10)
[personal profile] walkingheroin
[Lucifer is sitting at the bench of a shiny black piano, his fingers gently pressing the keys in a smooth melody with talented fingers as he starts to speak. It's unclear how he's being filmed without actually holding the device himself, but I'm sure it's probably just someone holding it for him.

Or not.]


Hello again, denizens of Wonderland. I made a promise to you all, and as you can see, I'm following through on it.

[Around him is a very lavish, large, and chic room, though it's clear that the piano he's at is in the middle of the room and slightly lower than most of the couches and tables, with the bar at the far end. There's also a stage microphone set up beside him, though he's not using it at the moment.]

Say hello to Deux Lux. Anyone with the ability to have fun is welcome and expected. Sixth floor, room sixty-six. It's a bit smaller than the original, I'm afraid, but it will do for now.

[He grins.]

Feel free to help yourself behind the bar when you arrive. If I think you have some skill when it comes to pouring cocktails, perhaps I'll offer you a job. Until those positions are filled, however, I'm afraid I can't do everything all by myself. I'm the Devil, not a miracle worker.

----------------------------

[ooc: Feel free to answer Lucifer over the network or come hang out at the club. THIS CAN BE A PARTY POST. Feel free to tag around as much as you want! I'll have my own starter for Lucifer inside and will tag around as well. Have fun <3]
morethanasidekick: (Fae Plague)
[personal profile] morethanasidekick
[As the video starts to play, the person on screen looks like they've come about as close to the brink of death as anyone can manage and still come back from it. Her dark hair is pulled back from her ghostly white face and pale blue eyes that are normally accentuated with black eye makeup, appear to be lined with blood. Her tongue flickers out over dry, cracked lips and the picture is shaky, as if the person holding the camera has unsteady hands.]

Aren't you supposed to take the red pill before you wake up in bizarro land? [The woman trying to inject as much vibrancy as she can manage into her voice, despite the obvious struggle to do so.]

There should at least be food. Like, nachos. Why don't any of my kidnappings ever come with nachos?

[The shake of the camera worsens as she pulls one hand away, trying to rub away the evidence of what had happened before she woke up here.]

As comfortable as this floor is... if somebody could point me in the direction of food? [Aware of how she looks, her hand vaguely gestures to her face.] It's okay. It was just a minor case of Fae plague. A burger or six and I'll be good to go.

⎊ [Video]

May. 1st, 2016 08:07 am
narcissistictendencies: (You're on the list?)
[personal profile] narcissistictendencies
[The feed opens to Tony's form from about the waist up. His sleeves are rolled up and his left arm is covered in burns that look to be about a week old. He's holding a strange device about eight inches long. It's encased entirely in a shell and seems to have a small domed sensor on top.]

I just wanted to say, if you start seeing these around, it's not a tiny alien invasion, they're sensors. I'm setting them around key locations in the hopes of finding a way to predict these event things. In light of the most recent catastrophe, I think it's only a reasonable step towards surviving something like that again. There has to be something preceding these things, right? Like a low-pressure system before a storm. We get a warning, sure. Sometimes, anyway? Maybe, if we can figure out what causes them or where they're coming from, we can delay or stop them?

[It's... all he's got, okay? He hates feeling like he isn't in control and he hates that people die because of it, even more.]

I'm... [He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, the beginnings of a sleepless headache coming on.] officially out of retirement. Hold the "I told you so"s. You know who you are.
circlejerked: (↯ we close and warm)
[personal profile] circlejerked
Um. All right, no one panic, but I may have underestimated these magic closets of ours and accidentally... done something.

[Anders' voice, sounding contrite. In the background, an unremitting stream of noise threatens to drown him out--it's meowing, rising and falling at different pitches like a tone-deaf a cappella group trying to harmonize and failing miserably.

The camera settles unsteadily on the hem of his robes before he sets it down and steps back. The source of the caterwauling then becomes apparent: in his arms are four young cats of various shapes and color, two tucked under each arm.

By the sounds of it, more are audible off-screen. Many, many more.]


I wasn't thinking... Well, I was, I was thinking how much more homey this place would be with a cute cat or two, and then--and then they were just there, and everywhere, and now there are a few more than two. If you have cat allergies, stay off the fourth floor.

[As if on cue, a kitten on stubby legs capers across the floor behind him. Anders, noticing movement on the screen, squints closely for a second, then looks for the real thing over his shoulder.]

One's making a run for it. Alistair! Alistair, catch it, my hands are full.

[From somewhere off among the caterwauling comes a response, the owner appearing shortly after--]

I see it!

[Alistair runs past in the background, two cats under one arm and what is presumably another squirming about down his shirt. He comes back into view a moment later, the escapee cradled in his free hand. Shoving the kitten in Anders' face--where it proceeds to bat at his nose--he frowns at the other man.]

This is getting ridiculous. We can't keep track of all of them. Is anyone coming to-- Ow!

[The yelp comes as the squirming under his shirt grows more energetic and with a slightly panicked look Alistair disappears from view again, kittens in tow. The only hint as to his fate comes as an increase in the mewling and the sound of fabric ripping mercifully out of sight.]

I'm getting to that part!

[Anders stares after him, eyebrows drawn up in alarm, before dragging his eyes back to the camera.]

Uhhh, it's okay, everything's fine, we have things completely under control, but as you can tell, we're in possession of some cats who could use a loving home! Soft, furry cats! Adorable, see? They're domesticated, easy to care for, and make excellent house pets. That one doesn't appear to be a fan of Alistair's shirt, but some are more fashion conscious than others.

I don't know if I can take care of them all. If you'd like to take one, we'll be giving them away free of charge in the ballroom. First floor, you can't miss it!
[Anders then points a finger sternly, though the effect is mitigated by the wide-eyed kittens holding onto his arm.] But no funny business. If you consider cats a delicacy, I'm warning you now, we're both heavily armed. People wanting to make mittens out of their fur need not apply.

(OOC: Come find the log over here!)
heroica: (all the broken chords and unnamed cries)
[personal profile] heroica
-land's influence on you. [ Good morning from the tired and faintly exasperated countenance of Robyn, who hastily replaces a wayward braid behind her ear before actually attending to the broadcast. She smiles wearily, clearing her throat before addressing the mansion. ]

Hello, Wonderland. In case we've yet to meet, my name is Robyn Cousland of the Gr- [ She cuts off momentarily to glance away, frowning, and speaks to someone or something off-camera. ] Stop. Sit.

[ There's a low whine, but she returns to the device with a satisfied, short sigh. ]

When I arrived, I... found, if it can be called that, a mabari - a Ferelden hound - in the wardrobe of my room. He isn't nearly as well-behaved as my own, unfortunately; he seems much younger, though I've just been thinking it might be because of the way that this place seems to affect us all. Though, luckily, we haven't all been taking little things from other people and hiding them away.

[ TALKING ABOUT YOU, OREN THE DOG. ]

Which... brings me to my point, which is that the dog has apparently been taking things that don't belong to him. Some of them have names written in them, some books, but most of these things have been difficult to return. I know for a fact that he confiscated possessions of an Emily Bennett, Evelyn O'Connell, and Cullen Rutherford. Also... [ At this, the Warden sifts through the pile as she speaks: ] Several boots, gloves, and gauntlets, mostly leather. A... necklace, I think, made of bone, a clay flower pot, some kind of- [ Maker's breath. She looks momentarily pained and spots of pink rise into the apples of her cheeks. ] Something... called Busty Asian Beauties, and several other things I've yet to identify.

[ The picture on the cover of that particular piece of reading material is overwhelmingly embarrassing and she hastens to end the broadcast. ]

Andraste's grace. Please stop by room thirty on the first floor if you've been missing something, or just tell me what you've lost and I will return it once I've made some sense of this mess.

( video )

Mar. 8th, 2016 06:31 pm
shitloaf: (003)
[personal profile] shitloaf
[ The feed eventually shutters to life and it's pointing at the ceiling. It's a mostly nondescript ceiling, please enjoy it for being pleasantly neutral. Because it's going to be ruined in less than ten seconds.

Carver's face pops into the view and he stares at the device like it's some unholy abomination that just tinkled on his favorite shirt. It's clear he's in a terrible sort of mood—but when is he not?—by the harsh line of his brows and the curl of his mouth. While he doesn't have his full plate armor on, he still wears the blue and silver of the Grey Wardens. ]


So, apparently this sodding thing is supposed to let me talk to other people. [ Here he is. Doing just that. ] I'm—

[ He stops, sighs through his nose then rubs the side of his head. Does he introduce himself? Maybe. Ugh. ]

My name is Carver Hawke and I have a request and don't really know where to start. I'm looking for books. [ The harsh lines of his expression soften to the slightest degree for a brief moment. ] Easy ones. Ones that kids can read. Don't know what is considered that here, so.

[ He lifts a shoulder in a shrug as if that will explain the rest of the request so he doesn't need to. Basically, he needs pointing in the right direction with titles and maybe even large print.

Off-screen there is a small scuffling noise and it's followed soon by a little yappy sort of bark. There's a fun, bright usage of several even more fun curses before Carver disappears for a second. The video shakes as he picks up the device to hold at arms length. In his other hand is this abomination of a dog. It wriggles in his hand and that only seems to irritate him further. ]


And what in the Maker's name is this bloody thing? It's like some horrible Orlesian dog some sod would wear on their hat. What good are these wardrobes if this is what I get instead of a mabari?

[ The puppy happily licks Carver's nose and he grunts in disgust before putting it down and returning to the device. It seems he wants to say something more, but he isn't sure how. Clearly annoyed—and mostly with himself—he frowns all over again then just shuts the feed off. ]

Video

Mar. 7th, 2016 06:58 pm
scowls: (080)
[personal profile] scowls
[ For a few moments, all that’s visible in the slightly shaky view is an exciting expanse of bland-colored carpet. A light scratching sound is audible in time with the tilting of the image, as though the material that covers the device is moving against something unyielding and metallic. To someone who’s seen this sort of thing before, it’s indicative of someone examining the device.

A moment later, the image blurs and the boring carpet is replaced by large green eyes, shaggy white hair, thick black eyebrows, a scowling mouth, and a chin marred by white lines. ]


Hn. [ It’s a derisive snort, though the word that follows is even more so, heavily laden with disgust. ] Magic.

[ The image spins again, resolving a few dizzying seconds later to a crooked view of a sparsely furnished room. It’s the sort of room that looks to have never yet been lived in, the furniture of the most generic sort. Prowling near the far wall is the owner of that too-close face.

He’s wearing spiky armor, sharply pointed gauntlets, and a conspicuous lack of shoes. Pointed ears poke out of his hair and when he turns to unlimber a large greatsword from his back, more of the white lines are visible on his skin where it shows through gapes in his armor. As is probably apparent, he has no idea that he’s being recorded and continues to examine the room with wary unease.

The video will continue for quite some time, documenting a positively riveting video of an over-armored elf doing nothing but poking around a room, until he’s alerted to the fact that the device is both active and broadcasting his business to others.

Someone, quite clearly, does not know how to use the communication device properly. ]
ceruleans: (Mystique - ru for real)
[personal profile] ceruleans
[The woman who pops onto the screen? She doesn't look at all pleased. She's disheveled and incredibly sore, but at least she's been able to have a shower since things have returned to normal. She'd woken up in her own bed, having muddied up the sheets -- so, okay, she's still pretty annoyed.

Still, it had occurred to her that she'd done something a little bit irresponsible the night before. It had been motivated by anger, certainly, but it isn't as if she'd killed the man -- still, she needs to get it off her chest and just make sure that he's -- you know, still alive.

She clears her throat.]


Uh, all right -- this message is especially for Alistair, or for anyone from his world -- now that this thing is working again.

I was attacked in the forest last night by someone accusing me of being a demon, so I thought that you guys might know him. I knocked him out and left him tied up outside the tavern, so I don't know where he'd be now.

[She scowls.]

And just to clear it up for anyone who might be wondering ... I'm not a demon.

[She motions to her hair.]

I mean, do you see a set of pointy horns? I have no interest in your immortal soul, okay? So further attempts to end me? Not going to be dealt with so gently.

[It's a bit of posturing since she's never actually killed anyone, but...they don't need to know that.]
narcissistictendencies: (What the hell?)
[personal profile] narcissistictendencies
[The video opens at an odd angle high in the room workshop of one Tony Stark. It's cocked at an angle and seems to be moving quickly as Tony lunges for the phone. His fingers fall short as it's jerked out of his reach.]

Give--! [Suddenly the video feed is shaken violently, showing everywhere from his ceiling to the floor in jerky motions as whatever has it scrambles and dances out of reach.] --that back! How did you even get in here?! That's--!

[The video cut out with a small explosion.

When the video is active again, Tony is back in possession of his phone and he looks like he might have just shimmied down a chimney, covered in black smears. The room around him doesn't look much better and in the background the floor can be seen littered with damaged and destroyed tech.]


Anyone have a suggestion on keeping these little menaces-- [He pans the camera around to two goblins who have managed to get themselves glued to Tony's chair, likely with Tony's help, of course] --out of my room? Somehow they managed to bypass my security system. My security system! I don't know what these clumsy little monsters are, but they're destroying everything! Yes, this is an SOS from the one-and-only Tony Stark. I admit it. I actually might need someone else's help. There, I said it.
magisterium: (23)
[personal profile] magisterium
While I understand that winter is typically cold in a number of places, does it seem to be especially so to anyone else? It can't be just me; there must be others who hail from more humane climates.

[While Wonderland's shift to winter was sudden and, as Dorian has been told, reasonably mild, the cold has hit him hard. He's prepared for all manner of teasing, having been subject to all manner of it while following Brennan across both Ferelden and Orlais, the former of which was barbaric on top of being absolutely frigid-- at least Orlais had style along with all the snow and ice.

He thought he would be able to weather Wonderland's change in temperature without much trouble, having suffered through both the Frostbacks and Emprise du Lion, but given the fact that he seems to be visibly shivering onscreen despite being wrapped in several layers, it would appear that he thought wrong.]


How anyone lives under these conditions year-round is beyond me. I'll never understand Southerners.

(OOC: Dorian will be under the effects of the Little Match Girl mini-event from the 14th - 16th! Any in-person threads people would like with him during that period can go here as well; by the night of the 15th he'll be tucked away in bed and likely staying there, but until then he'll be out and about and available as he struggles to get warm and curses the cruel, cruel south.)
fatherlesskind: (12)
[personal profile] fatherlesskind
-does this do? What about this? Helllooo?

[The video feed begins with a close-up of a gauntleted thumb and then twists nauseatingly around until there's a giant eyeball... that gradually diminishes in size as its owner pulls back from the device. Once it's farther away it reveals a large man in heavy armour with a sword at his hip and a shield on his back, looking rather put out. Alistair frowns down at the thing for a moment then shrugs and begins to speak.]

I heard I can use this thing to talk to people. People far away. I don't know if I believe it, I've never heard of magic like that. But this way it doesn't look like I'm crazy and talking to myself. Maybe.

I don't talk to myself normally of course. That would be crazy. But I do talk to myself - and little... boxes - when I get lost and wind up in a strange place I've never seen before. Especially when I'm supposed to be somewhere else doing something important. Then I might talk to myself.

[But only because he hasn't found anyone else to talk to yet and he's still trying to figure out what's going on. He isn't buying anything he's heard so far so he's reduced to thinking out loud at a little box.]

Well, I think I know what's going on here. This is the Fade, is it? I'm stuck in the Fade again.

What do you think box? Am I right? [His voice turns high pitched and squeaky and the video judders about as the device is waggled back and forth.] 'I think you are Alistair, you handsome fiend you, you must be in the Fade! Now we just have to go find the eeevil demon that trapped us here and make it let you go!'

[And back to a normal voice, the video steadying again.] I'm glad you agree and I am looking rather handsome today, aren't I? Now, let's go find that demon!

[And, companion... box in hand - and still broadcasting - he strides boldly off in search of something that looks like a demon, keeping up a running commentary until someone decides to interrupt him.]

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