shellphones | 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 ends ~~and Emet proceeds to lie down in embarrassment for an hour~~. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

On the ship itself? No. On our little island hideaway? Very much so.

In fact they probably have run of most of the land since three men are hardly enough to maintain it. I spy quite a variety of creatures whenever I return to keep my abode in order.

Now that's very nostalgic.

[She actually huffs a bit of a chuckle.] I should explain--I am the current guardian of a very old forest, very steeped in magic. It is...perhaps a bit more actively aware of the things that wander through it than most forests tend to be.

So a floating garden and a wild island might be a balm for homesickness, even if the climate is quite different.

I see. The nature of our island base is somewhat...unusual. 'Tis a volcanic island with some abnormalities - floating islets above the crater, a myriad of caves and ruins snaking through the rock, and so on. 'Tis a pleasant enough climate if you stay within the forested areas however.

If the place is agreeable to you, mayhap you could assist by documenting the wildlife. I'm sure the professor would appreciate it if you did.

There is...a secondary matter I'd want to discuss beforehand, but I would rather do so in person, or at least more...privately.

[Her dietary needs should probably be brought up...]

If it doesn't prove to be an issue, then I can't see a reason I wouldn't want to help your professor.

If you would like to meet in person, you may meet me at our ship. 'Tis docked at Eltrut, as I said.

Who should I keep an eye out for?

A white-haired woman in a jackal mask. I don't believe you'll mistake me for anyone else.

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???]

[ He happens to glance over the railing and spot her and what he sees is...fascinating, for lack of a better word. Some of these other riftfarers defy belief. How can she be alive and yet also dead? And not even in a way that a walking corpse might be.

He stands up straight and raises his arm to catch her attention. ]

I take it you're Naeva?

[She looks up, and inhales--she's not sure she'll get anything from this man's scent, this close to the sea, but it's a habit she's yet to break--and then nods.]

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.]

Aye, come up, come up.

[ 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. ]

[There is a movement behind her, briefly. It turns out to be a...horse-sized dog with three heads.]

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.]

[ He gives the large three-headed dog a curious glance. A cerberus...? Where did that come from?

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?

If she isn't a dealbreaker, yes. I can attest she is quite polite.

[Well, for a husky with three heads, but we do our best...]

That is not...the most pressing issue, I'm afraid.

[ His only concern is where the three-headed creature would be able to rest and not get in the way of the sailors. But that can be discussed later. ]

Oh? Then what is?

[ He could come out and guess but it's more polite to let someone else say it first. ]

Join the Raiders of the Lost Arts

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