tickleironysjudgment | The Preamble Becons| Scene One: Act One

[The camera opens to some slight shifting as it traces the path of the ethereal being it has been pointed at, there is a slight bit of delay and the furious sound of a pen on paper in the very near background. Anima, a Misdreavous, is eagerly flitting about somewhere in Goldenrod while a certain mad scientist is taking notes.]

...not entirely unlike their p-p-power, however so very different in so very profoundly many ways. So many subspecies with infinitely many different potential uses and talents. A nearly inexhaustible amount of resources here for research...

[The camera pauses as Anima is now staring directly into it and beyond it. It makes a few cries, then passes through the camera and begins to do...something. Immediately the camera shifts wildly in various directions and Agnus makes a very obvious noise of irritation.]

Anima. Anima! Return that at once, you m-m-m-miserable phantom! Anima! I am p-p-perfectly aware of where I need to be.

[Cut to Agnus' face, sans monocle, noticeably irritated. Anima hovers around him enthusiastically.]

It was my assumption that these strange c-creatures would prove vastly less unwieldy to a keen wit and immovable will. They most certainly do not. [He reaches out and snatches the monocle back up from the creature when it is unexpected, then places it back on his face calmly.]

If any members of the O-order of t-t-the Sword are present on this band, I advise you to contact me immediately. Chief Alchemist Agnus, reporting. Awaiting c-c-c-contact, over and out. [The broadcast cuts out, but the link is left open for contact.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Watch your words!

[He slams his fists down on something irritably, then picks up a clipboard and begins to jot down information furiously.]

Nearly as foul-mouthed and irritably coy as that d-d-d-d-d...devil brat. I do not take kindly in the least to your t-t-t-type.

Wow. Wow. That set you off? Really?

If you want foul-mouthed and irritating, I can fragging give you foul-mouthed and irritating.

[Agnus begins furiously writing down Savior only knows what at this point, occasionally glancing up to glare murderously at whomever it was that had made a nuisance of himself so quickly.]

If I wanted 'foul-mouthed and irritating' I would be speaking to the little demonic prat. I have no idea who you are, and to be p-p-p-p-p-...perfectly honest I could utterly care less. If your only intention was to insult a man for his speech, begone.

You wanna get your head out of your exhaust pipe for maybe two seconds? I was asking you a fragging question.

To which the answer is 'no.' If by some small chance you mean to call attention t-t-to my stutter, then you should have very well c-c-c-c-c-c-c...calculated it would be conceived as insulting to so b-b-b-blatantly bring it to mind!

[He finishes writing, then reaches a hand up to adjust his monocle.]

Or do I assume t-t-too much to think you might catch that?

Geez. All right, my bad.

The Preamble Becons| Scene One: Act One

[video] I have waited so hard to use this- you have no idea.

[video] Yaaaaay! Do I get a prize? Also going to bed, will tag back tomorrow!

[Video] He is planning SO MUCH DEATH HERE OH MAN.

[video] GO AHEAD AND TRY IT

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