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shellphones2025-03-05 01:53 am
emet_sulk) wrote in shellphones2025-03-05 01:53 am
Entry tags:
Join the Raiders of the Lost Arts
Type: Video
Sender ID: emet-sulk (Emet-Selch)
To: Public
Subject: Join the Raiders of the Lost Arts
Warnings: Extremely cringe/cheesy theatrics maybe
[ It's been a little while since Emet-Selch has had cause to put on a performance. His last one - half-hearted one may argue but no less sincere - had ended satisfactorily. The curtains falling on a bittersweet end and the night passing its baton to the dawn of a new day. This performance isn't nearly so dire nor so serious. But Emet-Selch takes it seriously regardless.
After all, there's not much point in a research vessel when there's hardly any researchers to fill it.
When the video feed switches on, his smile is already in place: thin, bordering on a smirk, yet congenial. For those who know him, this is a lot more life than most of them will have seen from him in the past year. ]
Greetings, newcomers and latecomers. I am Emet-Selch. Acting captain of the Raiders of the Lost Arts crew.
[ He's holding the shellphone in true 'selfie' fashion. The vacant deck of the Phantom Moon can be seen behind him, fin-like sails furled. Keener eyes may recognise it as being docked in Eltrut. Their crew are on the island somewhere enjoying some time off.
With a grandiose sweep of his arm, he turns the camera away from him so that people can take in the ship. It's largely in the style of a Chinese junk (credit to original captain's player for the image). ]
We're currently seeking some intrepid people to join our little band. As you can see, we have ample room and quarters...
[ The camera moves towards the inner corridor, pausing in front of the kitchen, the workshop laboratory, and one of the empty cabins. ]
While research of the old and unusual is our little crew's aim, we will gladly welcome anyone who feels their niche interests are unsupported by their circumstances. [ Emet-Selch leans back into frame briefly here to wink. ] Be you poisoner, cook, or mad scientist: don't worry - we shan't judge.
[ At that moment, a strange creature pops its head up. It opens its beak and tries to bite Emet-Selch's phone and tug it away from him. There's soft cursing in a harsh, unrecognisable language before one can hear him calling to someone. ]
Professor, your bird is at it again!
[ There's some tussling and the feed cuts out briefly (although there is still the sound of two men negotiating with the robot bird). Once the image returns, it is steady. The creature is presumably being manhandled away from the camera. Emet-Selch clears his throat. ]
Ahem! Besides the usual facilities, we have a garden in which you may take your ease should your work grow too tiresome.
[ He moves towards the back of the ship now and points the shellphone camera at lush-looking smaller personal ship that functions as a floating garden. After ample time, the camera pulls back and Emet-Selch's face returns to the screen as he walks back to the centre of the ship. ]
Should you desire a more quiet, private setting, however, you may also make use of our island base. Alas, that is a place whose location I cannot divulge unless one is a part of the crew. So should you be interested, do come find us at Eltrut. We shall be docked here until tensions settle.
Ah! Speaking of which, we care not which armada has claimed you. All intellectual curiosity is welcome.
[ With one last smile and a trill of his fingers, the feed endsand Emet proceeds to lie down in embarrassment for an hour. ]
Sender ID: emet-sulk (Emet-Selch)
To: Public
Subject: Join the Raiders of the Lost Arts
Warnings: Extremely cringe/cheesy theatrics maybe
[ It's been a little while since Emet-Selch has had cause to put on a performance. His last one - half-hearted one may argue but no less sincere - had ended satisfactorily. The curtains falling on a bittersweet end and the night passing its baton to the dawn of a new day. This performance isn't nearly so dire nor so serious. But Emet-Selch takes it seriously regardless.
After all, there's not much point in a research vessel when there's hardly any researchers to fill it.
When the video feed switches on, his smile is already in place: thin, bordering on a smirk, yet congenial. For those who know him, this is a lot more life than most of them will have seen from him in the past year. ]
Greetings, newcomers and latecomers. I am Emet-Selch. Acting captain of the Raiders of the Lost Arts crew.
[ He's holding the shellphone in true 'selfie' fashion. The vacant deck of the Phantom Moon can be seen behind him, fin-like sails furled. Keener eyes may recognise it as being docked in Eltrut. Their crew are on the island somewhere enjoying some time off.
With a grandiose sweep of his arm, he turns the camera away from him so that people can take in the ship. It's largely in the style of a Chinese junk (credit to original captain's player for the image). ]
We're currently seeking some intrepid people to join our little band. As you can see, we have ample room and quarters...
[ The camera moves towards the inner corridor, pausing in front of the kitchen, the workshop laboratory, and one of the empty cabins. ]
While research of the old and unusual is our little crew's aim, we will gladly welcome anyone who feels their niche interests are unsupported by their circumstances. [ Emet-Selch leans back into frame briefly here to wink. ] Be you poisoner, cook, or mad scientist: don't worry - we shan't judge.
[ At that moment, a strange creature pops its head up. It opens its beak and tries to bite Emet-Selch's phone and tug it away from him. There's soft cursing in a harsh, unrecognisable language before one can hear him calling to someone. ]
Professor, your bird is at it again!
[ There's some tussling and the feed cuts out briefly (although there is still the sound of two men negotiating with the robot bird). Once the image returns, it is steady. The creature is presumably being manhandled away from the camera. Emet-Selch clears his throat. ]
Ahem! Besides the usual facilities, we have a garden in which you may take your ease should your work grow too tiresome.
[ He moves towards the back of the ship now and points the shellphone camera at lush-looking smaller personal ship that functions as a floating garden. After ample time, the camera pulls back and Emet-Selch's face returns to the screen as he walks back to the centre of the ship. ]
Should you desire a more quiet, private setting, however, you may also make use of our island base. Alas, that is a place whose location I cannot divulge unless one is a part of the crew. So should you be interested, do come find us at Eltrut. We shall be docked here until tensions settle.
Ah! Speaking of which, we care not which armada has claimed you. All intellectual curiosity is welcome.
[ With one last smile and a trill of his fingers, the feed ends
no subject
Who should I keep an eye out for?
voice -> action
My name is Naeva. I will be there shortly.
[And she will. Of course, she might be more noticeable not for the jackal mask but the fact she is literally half-dead. A perfectly balanced mix of the undead and an indescribably powerful source of life, though she's largely cut off from the latter--the roots of that forest she mentioned are literally entwined into her soul.
She was born the way she is--there's no rot or corruption that causes it. She simply...exists with one foot in death and the other in life.
She's also squinting at the size of this gaddang ship, WHY is it so large???]
no subject
He stands up straight and raises his arm to catch her attention. ]
I take it you're Naeva?
no subject
That would be me. Permission to come aboard?
[She's heard the sailors say that. It seems polite, and she'd rather have explicit permission, given what she has to tell him.]
no subject
[ He waves for her to come aboard. The ship being so large makes it a pain to upkeep but one certainly can't complain about the amenities.
If the sea doesn't manage to obscure his scent entirely, she won't pick up on anything terribly remarkable. He bathes regularly with unscented soap, although he may still smell faintly of the forge from the workshop he runs. ]
no subject
Muffin, no, wait here until you have permission yourself.
[Muffin gives a great, beleagured sigh, but flops down on the dock to wait. Naeva will make her way up shortly afterwards, looking curiously about the ship. A few months out and she's still not quite used to the novelty of, well, the sea.]
no subject
He waits until she's on board before asking. ]
Interesting pet you have there. I presume it will be joining you as well should you find our crew acceptable?
no subject
[Well, for a husky with three heads, but we do our best...]
That is not...the most pressing issue, I'm afraid.
no subject
Oh? Then what is?
[ He could come out and guess but it's more polite to let someone else say it first. ]