[Voice | Unknown Journal (same as last time) | Filtered: Winding Way | Easy Hack]
((OOC: This is close to a week after the last post. Also, this is directly plot-related . . . and the accompanying log will be going up soon.))
[speaking in a rushed whisper, even more so than last time . . . plus there’s a faintly muffled/echo-y quality, like he’s inside a wooden container]
Winding Way! Harlequin to the Winding Way! If anyone gets this, please don't respond! The owner of this journal knows I'm here. W-well, not here here, but on the ship. And where have you guys been, anyway?! Why isn't anyone answering the radio!?
[stops and takes a deep, hysteria-interrupting breath - in the background, faint, muffled footsteps can be heard…]
Okay, guys, listen up! I've located the prisoners. I've not actually laid eyes on them, but I know where they're being kept. They're being fed, if not all that well, and as far as I know, they've not been hurt. Yet. I've managed to determine we are in the Badlands, high in the mountains. I don't know exactly where, but . . . there's a rock formation that, when the sun sets behind it, makes it look like a great big dragon silhouette, with spread-out wings and everything. S-so . . . yeah, look for a dragon-like rock formation up on a ridge. We're west of-!! N-no! East! We're east of that. R-right. Anyway . . .
You guys have to hurry! I've heard the witch Grita is going to be hooking the kids up to some kind of machine that will suck away their youth to give to her so she can keep remaining young which if you ask me sounds like something out of a play my first family did once but wouldn't really be possible in real life but what do I kno-?!
[The footsteps had paused, but then started again, getting louder/closer - Quin’s words cut off with a squeak! as hinges creak somewhere very close. He cries out again, this time with even more fear. The journal continues recording, seemingly forgotten.]
Gotcha. [a deep, male voice in a growl of irritation, heard from somewhere above the journal, as if he’s standing and the journal is on the ground]
Eheh . . . s-so . . . [Quin, also coming from somewhere above as if he was picked up - his voice runs out on him, has to try again] S-so you have, sir.
What do you think you're doing? You've been sneaking around all week. What are you doing here?
I . . . I-I . . . [Quin’s voice is faint and strained with terror]
I said, what are you doing here? Speak up! [a low and menacing tone]
[a soft, strangled squeak from the puppet, then-] T-trying to get my family back, Master!
Your family, huh? They some of the ones we took? How's calling someone on a difference engine supposed to help you get them out? You calling for help?
[voice soft with fright and shame] Y-yes, sir. A-and giving i-inform-mation . . .
[a long pause, then-] You. Puppet. Tell me something. The people you're asking for help from . . . are they strong?
[tone wry, rueful] S-stronger than me, Master.
That doesn't mean anything. [a pause, a soft pained cry from Harlequin, and the stranger’s voice coming out a scornful growl again] How strong are they? Do you actually think they have a chance of getting their kids back?
I-I don't know! I don't know! [Quin’s voice is high and desperate, then he pauses . . . there’s a very long pause before he speaks again, though this time there’s an . . . odd quality to it, a soft certainty, his voice almost steady again] Anyone has a chance with the right reasons. We're not just a crew. We're a family. And family looks after each other. Ichigo, Daddy, Zeetha, Riku and a half-dozen others I can think of . . . they'll come here and they'll beat you villains. Because they have to! They have to get their family back! [an edge of tears - of fright and determination - are audible in his voice]
It takes more than that. [a muttered comment after a brief pause, then continues harshly] Have you seen 'em fight? How good are they?
[what little courage the puppet managed to scrape together seems to have evaporated] I-I don't know, Master! I've not seen them fight, not when they've been prepared!
[there’s a choked sound from the man, then a soft curse through gritted teeth] Dammit.
[a choked, sobbing cry escapes Harlequin along with a faint creaking and cracking sound of stressed, fracturing wood]
[the man’s breath is audible in slow gasps, then mutters to himself] Guess I'll have to ask 'em myself.
[another cry and a clatter like dowel rods dropped on a bare, wooden floor, then a sound like the difference engine being picked up - when the man speaks next, his voice is much closer to the microphone] Hey! You! Yeah, you -- you wanna get the kids back, right? Well, I wanna know if you got the grit to do it. How strong are you? You saw what we can do. Can you do better?
[from the background somewhere below the journal, Harlequin’s voice - desperate, frightened, and determined to try to still salvage the situation] Where are we?! Give them our coordinates so they can find us! Please, Master!
[the answer is a low snarl] Only if they can take out Grita.
[the transmission cuts off . . . ]
((OOC: By the way, Riku [ temperedsilver ] will recognize the man's voice . . . >D))
[speaking in a rushed whisper, even more so than last time . . . plus there’s a faintly muffled/echo-y quality, like he’s inside a wooden container]
Winding Way! Harlequin to the Winding Way! If anyone gets this, please don't respond! The owner of this journal knows I'm here. W-well, not here here, but on the ship. And where have you guys been, anyway?! Why isn't anyone answering the radio!?
[stops and takes a deep, hysteria-interrupting breath - in the background, faint, muffled footsteps can be heard…]
Okay, guys, listen up! I've located the prisoners. I've not actually laid eyes on them, but I know where they're being kept. They're being fed, if not all that well, and as far as I know, they've not been hurt. Yet. I've managed to determine we are in the Badlands, high in the mountains. I don't know exactly where, but . . . there's a rock formation that, when the sun sets behind it, makes it look like a great big dragon silhouette, with spread-out wings and everything. S-so . . . yeah, look for a dragon-like rock formation up on a ridge. We're west of-!! N-no! East! We're east of that. R-right. Anyway . . .
You guys have to hurry! I've heard the witch Grita is going to be hooking the kids up to some kind of machine that will suck away their youth to give to her so she can keep remaining young which if you ask me sounds like something out of a play my first family did once but wouldn't really be possible in real life but what do I kno-?!
[The footsteps had paused, but then started again, getting louder/closer - Quin’s words cut off with a squeak! as hinges creak somewhere very close. He cries out again, this time with even more fear. The journal continues recording, seemingly forgotten.]
Gotcha. [a deep, male voice in a growl of irritation, heard from somewhere above the journal, as if he’s standing and the journal is on the ground]
Eheh . . . s-so . . . [Quin, also coming from somewhere above as if he was picked up - his voice runs out on him, has to try again] S-so you have, sir.
What do you think you're doing? You've been sneaking around all week. What are you doing here?
I . . . I-I . . . [Quin’s voice is faint and strained with terror]
I said, what are you doing here? Speak up! [a low and menacing tone]
[a soft, strangled squeak from the puppet, then-] T-trying to get my family back, Master!
Your family, huh? They some of the ones we took? How's calling someone on a difference engine supposed to help you get them out? You calling for help?
[voice soft with fright and shame] Y-yes, sir. A-and giving i-inform-mation . . .
[a long pause, then-] You. Puppet. Tell me something. The people you're asking for help from . . . are they strong?
[tone wry, rueful] S-stronger than me, Master.
That doesn't mean anything. [a pause, a soft pained cry from Harlequin, and the stranger’s voice coming out a scornful growl again] How strong are they? Do you actually think they have a chance of getting their kids back?
I-I don't know! I don't know! [Quin’s voice is high and desperate, then he pauses . . . there’s a very long pause before he speaks again, though this time there’s an . . . odd quality to it, a soft certainty, his voice almost steady again] Anyone has a chance with the right reasons. We're not just a crew. We're a family. And family looks after each other. Ichigo, Daddy, Zeetha, Riku and a half-dozen others I can think of . . . they'll come here and they'll beat you villains. Because they have to! They have to get their family back! [an edge of tears - of fright and determination - are audible in his voice]
It takes more than that. [a muttered comment after a brief pause, then continues harshly] Have you seen 'em fight? How good are they?
[what little courage the puppet managed to scrape together seems to have evaporated] I-I don't know, Master! I've not seen them fight, not when they've been prepared!
[there’s a choked sound from the man, then a soft curse through gritted teeth] Dammit.
[a choked, sobbing cry escapes Harlequin along with a faint creaking and cracking sound of stressed, fracturing wood]
[the man’s breath is audible in slow gasps, then mutters to himself] Guess I'll have to ask 'em myself.
[another cry and a clatter like dowel rods dropped on a bare, wooden floor, then a sound like the difference engine being picked up - when the man speaks next, his voice is much closer to the microphone] Hey! You! Yeah, you -- you wanna get the kids back, right? Well, I wanna know if you got the grit to do it. How strong are you? You saw what we can do. Can you do better?
[from the background somewhere below the journal, Harlequin’s voice - desperate, frightened, and determined to try to still salvage the situation] Where are we?! Give them our coordinates so they can find us! Please, Master!
[the answer is a low snarl] Only if they can take out Grita.
[the transmission cuts off . . . ]
((OOC: By the way, Riku [ temperedsilver ] will recognize the man's voice . . . >D))