thirdreturned: (And a blue Corvette)
[personal profile] thirdreturned
[There's a worry line creasing at Sorrow's forehead as he speaks. His voice is still as measured as ever, but there's still mounting tension in his posture, distress visible even though he's remaining as calm as he can.

The message still has a lot of static, but it's thankfully decipherable.]


Those of you with me, in the Eastern half of the city- we can't do much to help the others. Accept that. What we can do is make things easier for them and ourselves, should they return to us. Without Hope, we have limited resources, little light, and no option of revival, should you die.

[So that's pretty bad.]

Confusion is trying to keep the monsters in the caves but there's only so much she can do. Expect to see more of them flooding the city. If we want to ensure that Hope and Fear do not return to a destroyed city, we need to organize ourselves and avoid starvation and death as much as possible.

Some of you have already been organizing. I suggest you break off into groups- defense, hunting, food allocation. Tranquility's temple will likely be the most defensible, as it's between the armory and your clinic and has the river blocking one side. It would be prudent to set up barricades outside of the doors- I can supply you with materials for those.

[He pauses to let that sink in before continuing.]

Stalkers, Varren, and Wampa should be your prime animals to hunt, as they have a good source of meat and will be least likely to make you sick.

If there is anything else, I'll see to it.
surgent: (| so many want his gift)
[personal profile] surgent
[ The scene set is that of a living room. It does not appear to have been lived in much, no trinkets on shelves or the table, and no pillows set up on the couch. The video is static for a long moment before the Outsider appears on screen in a wash of black smoke and shining pieces of onyx. He's set himself up in the center of the couch, on the back of it, his feet planted on the cushion. His hands are folded together as he leans forward. There's a twinkle of amusement in his beetle-black eyes. ]

Have you ever heard the tale of Empress Emily Drexal Lela Kaldwin, first of her name? [ No response? No problem. He's going to tell it to you anyway. ] A child born to take the throne, she grew up privileged. She learned about the world from a distance and when people killed her mother and stole her throne, her father took up sword to take it back for her. [ He disappears in a wisp, reappearing further from the camera. The distance has no effect on the loudness of his voice. He gestures widely with his arms. ] Her father returned the throne to her and though she tried to be the Empress her mother once was, she lost sight of what was important: the voices of her people.

Another came for her throne while she was blinded, a woman who had been born in the hole and clawed her way out to the top, and that woman took it with blood. If only Emily had paid attention. If only she spent a little less time on the rooftops of her city or in the arms of her lover. If, if, if. [ Again, he disappears, this time appearing to lean against the left arm of the couch. He shakes his head. ] She took up sword, same as her father. She took on my mark, same as her father.

But do you think she managed to get her crown back? Could she do it as bloodlessly as her father? [ A quiet chuckle in the back of his throat. ] Or would she be as ruthless a killer as her betrayers?

It's a tale that can end in so many different ways.

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