21 June 2014 @ 08:10 pm
You're not alone. People you care about are calling for your help, and you want to go help them. I'm going to ask you to be a little more patient before you run off into the dark. We know they're lost, we know there's something pursuing them, we know they need help. But we also know that the most recent post on the network, the one talking about warnings from the captain - a captain we don't have - wasn't made by one of us. That means this problem is bigger than you think; it's bigger than all of us, and it's important we get a clear image of what we're facing before we leave. Shepard's team has gone missing, and other comms have started going off the radar too--we'll start where they disappeared, and if we do this together, we might even succeed. The last thing we need is more of you lost out there because you chose to do this on your own.

Right now I need your help in a different, but just as important way. If you've received a message from someone, we need to hear them. That way we can establish a thorough list of who's missing, and try and piece together what they were all trying to say.

Tyke, as Head of Security, is going to coordinate the rescue. I imagine she'll speak to you shortly herself. Rest assured we'll need bodies on the ground for this one, and I know there's going to be no telling some of you to stay put, so forgive me if I - at least - save myself the effort of trying. The corridors are dangerous: bring weapons, ammunition, your communicator, but don't worry too much about rations--you won't need them.

[ He seems about to sign off, but he has to address that post, the grinding static and the screams underneath it, all of it so familiar to him by now. ]


"They're getting closer." I don't know about you, but that doesn't sound like a coincidence. Whatever we find out there, whatever is after our people, try not to kill it unless you have to. Don't get killed, but bear in mind the risk that we may be deceived into murdering people who would be our allies. I can't shake the feeling that we're being set up. Alright. Hang in there, everyone.
16 November 2012 @ 07:53 am
[ there's the sound of a direwolf howling, unapologetic in his grief, and even the soft hushing murmur that comes after doesn't quite temper it, only reduces it to a low keening whine. there's a pause that stretches, and robb clears his throat more than once, trying to find the words. when he does speak he sounds tired, anger burning slow and hot under exhaustion but finally, finally, he speaks. ]

The lady Sansa Stark, who many called Alayne Stone, has gone.

[ there's a breath, as if robb means to say more, but instead he simply cuts the feed. ]
21 September 2012 @ 07:41 pm
I think it's about time we separated the community side of this ship from the military side. I'm not talking about division, I'm talking about getting a group of people together who can structure everything that needs putting into place, like laws, before everyone else around here pulls themselves apart. The only power that we have here is the power of the people, and when those people feel powerless, when they feel they don't have a voice, then they take things into their own hands.

I said when I got here I had no intention of imposing politics on this place. I didn't expect to be here as long as I have, didn't expect the population to blossom, didn't expect to see angers flare the way they have. I thought we had a common enemy, and that we wouldn't dream of fighting amongst ourselves, too busy just trying to survive. But I've seen a good man try and take justice into his own hands - a man I trusted - because there isn't anyone to do it for him; because he's a King, and the buck stops with him.

We need a council. We need to get all our little ducks in a row and get organised before this goes any further, before it happens again. Edgeworth was working on laws; right now I'd settle for a draft of a code of conduct, a scaling of penalties, discussion about what to do when a claimant has a dispute about something that comes from home, and the responsibilities that we as a community have toward each party. I want monthly meetings between representatives of the civilians on board, to make sure everyone's needs are being met, and I'm not prepared to wait another month to get it done.

Here's how it works. You want in, put your name down. Two other people who feel you can speak for them back you up, and you make the invite list. You got something you want discussed, you choose a representative to speak for you. Barring a shit-storm between now and then, we'll schedule the preliminary meeting for the day before we Jump, in Holodeck 1. 10am sharp. Any questions?

And before you ask, yes, I am excluded unless I get my own support. I give less of a shit about perceived power than I care about this place turning into a medieval battleground. And no, all decisions that are made that affect everyone on board will go to a vote. The whole ship gets their say. This is just a way to get things off the drawing board once and for all.

[OOC: Once again, if Nathan steps on toes, shoot him ICly please~ <3]

20 September 2012 @ 07:30 pm
[Cersei has practiced this speech, carefully planned it and learned it off by heart. She is dressed as formally as she can muster, her crown in place, and a deliberate warm half-smile is on her lips.]

Dear people of Tranquility, I have created this visual message in order to ask for your aid. Some may already be aware that a man by the name of Robb Stark attempts to usurp my position and take my life. While I am not typically the type to ask of favours of others, I must request your assistance on this particular occasion. I have held the title of Queen uncontested for sixteen years. Nevertheless, upon arriving at this ship, I have been threatened with both the stripping of my position and my death.

While some call for a woman's head, I implore no such monstrosities. Instead I ask merely for protection from Stark and his violent men. Is there anyone in this ship who might be able to guard and protect me, increasing my safety? I am a woman and am thus unable to defend myself. There is enough turmoil and danger on this ship already. I feel that we need not add to it.
16 September 2012 @ 10:50 pm
[ it's obvious this is going to be a serious post just from the look on robb's face. this is the king in the north, drawn up ice cold and stone-faced on the screen and there's nothing of the boy in his face. the direwolf at his side is a hulking mass of fur, teeth bared and eyes gleaming and no, this is not meant to be a light-hearted post. ]

Upon this ship there is a woman called Cersei Lannister, who arrived most recently. In Westeros, she dealt my house a great and terrible injury, and the matter must be settled, for it cannot be ignored. If she hears this, then I call her to treat with me, and submit herself for judgement for her crimes.

[ and grey wind snarls, ears set back and hackles raised, just as robb cuts the feed. ]
12 September 2012 @ 07:13 pm
[ it takes her longer than she likes to figure out how to work the device; after enough cautious tinkering, rhoda manages to work her way around the text function. it's still damned fiddly; the keys are smaller than that of a typewriter and she has yet to discover how to underline words for emphasis (which is perhaps for the best; she would certainly abuse that option, though now what you get is the wanton abuse of capslock in its place). ]

I understand that NO amount of scrubbing will rid me of the markings on my arm.
However, might I inquire as to whether there are any witches aboard this star-ship who have at the very least succeeded in HIDING it under a Glamour?
I would attempt to do so myself, but I don't know if there are any enchantments or wards upon the thing already. No one wishes to have their magic BACKFIRE upon them, naturally.
Beyond that, should anyone care to explain just WHY we must be branded like CATTLE as though we were PROPERTY of this vessel, I would be INFINITELY grateful.

Yours Faithfully,
Lady Rhoda Lamb
12 September 2012 @ 10:19 am
[The video turns on first -- a closeup of a handsome young man’s face. A blue eye flashes in the screen for a moment, then the camera is turned over in his hands, buttons are pressed -- and it switches to voice. There is silence for a moment, save for the fumbling of Renly’s hands and some quiet breaths, and then -- a soft ‘Aah.’ The strange device is blinking at him, apparently he is meant to communicate. Sadly, his voice does not sound quite as authoritative as he wishes it to, mostly due to confusion.]

This is King Renly Baratheon, lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Speak, whoever listens, and tell me how I may return home. I have pressing business to attend to and a war to win.

[He falls silent once again, frowning, and pokes at the comm, some of the arrogance in his tone fading to honest curiosity and confusion.] If there is anyone listening, that is. This device is quite strange.
11 September 2012 @ 08:52 pm
[ Hello, world. It's Jaime Lannister's face, bearded and short of hair, finally here for you to enjoy in a way that isn't just antagonizing people on the network. Though, with that said, Jaime does look a little smug at the moment, pleased with something that can't be readily divined just by staring at the screen.

At the same time, for any in audience who know him well enough to read such things or are just good at doing so anyhow, there's some tension around his jaw. Worry or just suppressed impatience?

Not to sound needlessly alarming, but I could use the assistance of someone trained in both the healing arts and the ways of living metal. One of our regrettably recently departed saw fit to leave me a gift on his way out, which I would like to have in working order sooner rather than later.

I would be in your debt. And my family is well-known for always seeing to it that our debts are paid.

[ ooc; thanks to dirk strider, jaime's got a robotic hand that needs attaching. please help the poor medieval knight. ]