Entries tagged with fenton crackshell::ducktales [1987]

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fenton crackshell::ducktales [1987]

It’s Too Late to Say Goodbye (backdated to Oct. 18)

[The feed clicks on, showing a slightly-anxious looking Fenton. He’s fiddling with his tie in his hands, and – if one is looking closely – there’s a sort of sadness around his expression as well, although he’s trying to hide it, offering the camera a weak smile.]

Ah. Hello, everyone. I don’t often make announcements like this, but... I figured in this case... [It was important? He was the first one to know, so it naturally fell to him? Fenton didn’t know how to end that sentence, so he shrugged, then took in a deep breath.]

For everyone that knew her... Webby’s gone back home. [His smile faltered, then grew a bit more nervous as he chuckled softly.] She’s okay. She was missing everyone back home, and had a lot of things to do, there... I know she wouldn’t want anyone here to be sad that she’s left.

[A small, contemplative frown this time, for a second, and then another shrug, looking aside.] And... you never know. She might come back. She might not, but... well... that’s the way this place works, isn’t it? [He reached up and scratched the back of his head, continuing on in a small voice.] Even if we haven’t had any examples of something like that, yet.

[He cleared his throat, and faced the camera again.] So... ahh... that’s all I wanted to tell everyone. Thank you. Sorry. um... [He reaches up to turn off the feed.]

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fenton crackshell::ducktales [1987]

[Video] The Rescue Group can plot here if they'd like

[The video clicks on to show Fenton, tapping his hand nervously on his kitchen table. He's locked the feed, but it's only a general lock. He just made sure this new guy wasn't on it. He's clearly struggling with what to say, not wanting to say too much over the open network, even locked as it was. He felt a little paranoid, but it was a similar feeling as when the witches had taken over Main Street, and you never knew if they were spying on you through mirrors - any mirror. It was that same sense of unease.]

So. Okay. I'm sure we've all heard this guy and his ransom demands. I can help give some munny to the 'cause'. The guy said he'd tell us where to drop it, later. [He frowned, narrowing his eyes faintly, glancing to the side.] ....Anyone want to join me in "pooling" our munny? Discussing who should make the "drop", perhaps? We can all meet up in one spot, if that's easier on everyone. Anyone have a place in mind?

[He was speaking in code as much as he dared. Clearly a rescue mission needed to be held, but he didn't dare announce so over the network, even locked as it was... just in case. Like with the witches. It was probably better to meet in person, to discuss plans on rescing the others. Hopefully others would understand that's what he was getting at, here.]

[And if not, well... at least they'd be gathering up the ransom munny they needed, anyway.]

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Video- Evening of the 25th

[Leia appears on the network with a notebook in her hands, her hair pulled back in a single braid, as it usually is when she's trying to look more serious.]

OK... Now that we're all back from our missions, as a Princess, I think I should give everyone an update on the whole situation with Mr. Dreamfinder and the Corroded station.

We know that Mr. Dreamfinder and Figment have been missing for a while now. I don't know if anybody knows exactly how long it's been, but we do know it's been over a month, at least. And since Mr. Dreamfinder wouldn't go off somewhere and not tell anyone for that long on purpose, it's safe to say that he's in trouble. Either somebody took him somewhere, or he went somewhere and something happened that he can't get back.

And I think it's pretty safe to say that he's not on Main Street too. Nobody here's seen him, and Lydia and I talked to the animals and bugs in the castle; neither had they. And even Hades would've said something once the station got Corroded if he knew where he was; Hades might be a bad guy, but if anything happens to Main Street, he's in as much trouble as the rest of us.

And I think we can rule out the bayou too, at least for now. There's too many monsters for anybody to want to take him there, or for him to want to go there himself. And him and Figment would be too easy to notice; everything there is dark and spooky, and they're... really not.

That leaves the jungle. There's more evidence for him being there too though, besides just process of emilination.

[She looks at the notebook.]

...Sorry: e-lim-in-ation.

[She gives a small, satisfied smile at having gotten around the difficult word before continuing.]

First, the bugs and animals Lydia and I talked to said they saw weird pink and green lights fluttering around the entrance to the jungle. And at the festival a little while ago, I heard music that sounded like it should be from Main Street coming from the booths and stuff in the jungle section, with no speakers or anything there to be playing it. I asked around a little, and I wasn't the only one who heard it either, so it was real and not just in my head. With everything else happening, those things can't just be for no reason.

We need to find Mr. Dreamfinder and Figment. Not just because they're our friends, but because I don't think that me and the other Princes and Princesses can fix up the station like we did the jungle without him here. Not in a way that would stick, anyway. So if anybody has any ideas about how we should do that, or any more information they think might help, we'd all be glad to hear it. Thank you.

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fenton crackshell::ducktales [1987]

[Video] There are WORSE songs to be stuck on loop [OTA]

[The mirrors activate to show a very confused looking Fenton. There is some sort of soft-rock music playing in the background. It has a definite early-80s feel to it, for anyone who'd be familiar with that.]

Did someone's spell go awry? Can anyone else hear this music, or am I going crazy? I don't have anything in the apartment on, if anyone's wondering. It just started... playing, and has been playing for a few loops, now.

[To be honest, after the surprise had worn off, it was starting to drive him a little nuts. At least the music was relatively quiet.]

[ooc: if the above link doesn't work, try this one?]

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Narrative/Video

It had been far too long now. Over five days since he had last heard anything from The Dreamfinder. His own magics had shown that the man was not even in Main Street! An enormous danger to all of them but more so to Blair himself. As it was, even the Mirror Portal had begun to malfunction without it's builder to maintain it.

A quiet inquiry had been sent out through the Land, to be on the look out for The Dreamfinder. Any news was to be sent straight to Merlin or Hades...none had come. Which was why he now sat at his table, staring at his own small communication mirror.

There was evidence of the old walkway to Tiki Oasis having been used. No one had used it since the Oasis had become the Dark Jungles. Whatever survivors having been the last ones through ages ago. It was a rather long shot but, Merlin had nothing else to go on.

~~~~***~~~~

[The video turns on to show a very grumpy looking Merlin.]

I am calling all Sorcerer's Apprentices that are currently with in the Magic Kingdoms. I am afraid I have rather worrisome news.

[He rubs the bridge of his nose.]

It seems that The Dreamfinder, has gone missing. I am assuming it has been of his own power but, as he is still a new Kingdom Spirit, and the last Kingdom Spirit, I am afraid he will find himself in great danger.

So I am asking for volunteers. I need to send you out into the Dark Jungles to find the Dreamfinder or else the last beat of imagination this place has will be snuffed out and everything we have been working towards will be destroyed.

[His voice grew far more grim.]

That includes your own worlds. If The Corrosion destroys Main Street, then there is nothing left between it and your worlds. And...once it leaves the Kingdoms- it can not be stopped. If you wish to volunteer please, let me know.

The fate of Imagination is in your hands, Apprentices. Do with that, what you will.

[end feed.]

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Video / Lamplighting

They say you never forget how to ride a bicycle, yeah?

[Rose pans her mirror down from her waaaaay tall bicycle.]

I really hope that's true, because I don't much like my chances of getting back on it if I fall. Wish me luck!

[She sets out, and so far, so good.] Okay, so anyone else get jobs yet and all that? Give me sound my first night out, since I didn't wanna risk my cybud up here.

[Exclusively for her "roommates," there's a pair of cupcakes, one for 12 and Michael respectively. 12's is banana with edible ball-bearings, and Michael's is devil's chocolate with a paperclip. Both have messages.]

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first roll, first exposure

[the morning of the 18th, before Aziraphale's little "miracle", the mirror turns on to show Lydia, sitting outside on the balcony of the apartment she shares with Mal. those who met her at the arrival ceremonies saw her with her hair down, but today she's pulled it up into a wild, riotous ponytail like a gothic palm tree]

Um, good morning. I'm Lydia, and I've never used anything like this before. Mal says it's like a "smart phone", but I'd never heard of that, so bear with me.

[there's an awkward pause. the morning breeze ruffles her hair and the black poncho she's wearing. which she may or may not have made out of one of her spare bedsheets because she didn't want to wear the same thing two days in a row.]

Anyway. The Dreamfinder, he said we have to get jobs in order to buy stuff. I know there's a decent amount of food in my kitchen, but we're gonna eat through what I know how to cook, pretty fast. So I'm going job hunting. If anyone wants to join me, I'll be downstairs in like, half an hour? I just need to finish my cereal and brush my teeth. Or you can meet me here at room 3A. Just knock first.

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a little more inspiration....

It is late afternoon on the eighteenth, and as the mirror swims to life, it focuses on Aziraphale who is standing about halfway back in the bedroom. He stands, hands tucked in front of him, smiling but looking slightly nervous, his wings arched a bit as if he wants to show them off but not be too obvious. He smiles at the...well...mirror. Fingers clenching a little bit.

When he speaks, though, his voice is low and soothing; warm like honey and pleasant. As if he's happy to see you. And in a way, he is.

"Hello. It's nice to meet you all. My name is Aziraphale and I'm an Angel. Well... Principality if you want to be precise, but that doesn't particularly matter here. First of all, I want to thank everyone who helped me out the other day and apologize for being a bit short with them. This human body is a new thing for me and I rather fear I don't have the hang of it quite yet.

But, we're all a little out of our element here, aren't we? This is a new place for us. A new experience. And a battle we must fight for the good of others who need our help. And sometimes, we can feel stuck, trapped even-- For instance, my wings are rarely displayed and not precisely corporeal when they are. If I need to remove my coat, I can do so with ease. Now, unfortunately, they are as solid as the rest of me.

And yet..." He dips his head and there is a bit of a cheeky smile. "With a little Faith." He hopes. No! Believes! "We can perform miracles."

Then he closes his eyes and focuses, concentrates, believes with everything in him that he still has the capacity for this kind of faith, this kind of miracle. That he will be able to take off his clothes with no problems at all.

All at once he can feel something catch. Something bright and cool and refreshing flow through him and around him.

Anyone looking in would be able to see a faint white gold light beginning to shimmer around him, a wind stirring the curtains and his hair. Perhaps there is a faint vibration, for the mirror slips, so only his head and shoulders are in view. The light seems to flash around him and then--!

He can feel the coolness leave him slowly, like a wave pulling from shore. With a thrilled smile he looks down and notices he did indeed manage to remove his coat as he'd hoped. Or perhaps made it disappear completely. As well as his vest, his shirt, his undershirt-- in fact the only thing left is the fob watch lying helpfully between his bare feet.

"Ah-- Ahem. Well! Slight miscalculation! But as you can see! Everything is just...just tickety...." And then the cold rushes back at once like a tsunami and for the second time in as many days, darkness crashes through him and he pitches forward and out of view.

There is a faint thud as he hits the floor.

But he'll be able to reply to any and all responses in a few hours...

...Probably.

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First!!!

So am I really the only one who remembers dying before coming here?

I'm not complaining, or wanting to freak you all out, just trying to get a better grip on things, okay?