[When the camera turns on, Rick is sitting cross-legged on a bed, a bulky looking duffel bag next to him, barely touching his leg; he's keeping it in easy-to-get distance.]

Been awhile since I had a long sleep on a soft bed. [He chuckles softly, a little anxiously.] Don't know 'bout e'ryone else, here, but I'm glad not to be sleepin' on this frozen ground.

[He smiles easily into the camera.] Should probably have introduced myself right off the bat, 'stead of goin' into my sleepin' habits. I'm Rick Grimes. Back home, I was a Sheriff's deputy. If you don't know what that is, it's a little like a policeman. And if you don't know what that is... well, it's my duty to enforce the law of the land. I know some of you out there do the same thing, back home. Might be useful to compare notes, if we're goin' to be here for awhile.

[He lets out a soft sigh.] Looks like we might be, too. I guess I don't have much else to say; I've never been much of a talkin' man. Big speeches aren't really my thing.

[Rick pauses, running a hand through his slightly long hair, and then picking up his hat from off camera, putting it on his head.]

I do have a question... anyone know 'bout the ones in charge of this place? It's all... mythology and stuff, right? Never really heard of Heimdall before, so I don't know how they chose how we stay where, and why we're not all roomin' together, as Newcomers. That's all.

[Hello there, Asgard. Have a troll, laying back on his bed in his room over in Hel house. He's got his pillows and blankets piled against the wall, leaning back against them with his knees bent up and his arms pulled in around his stomach. He's set the bracelet on the nightstand, where it records him looking down at his fingers while he plays with his nails and thinks for a moment. Then he looks up at the recording, taking in a deep breath before he starts.]

Alright, so after explaining what the fuck I am and what I've done for the two-thousand-eight-hundred-and-thirty-sixth time, I think it's time to get a little back from at least the halfway-intelligent of the rest of you.

Basically, I have way too much fucking time on my hands all of a sudden, and I don't know really know what to do with it, so I might as well get a little more involved in the "community" if I have to put up with all of you nooksucking woobie idiots. In short, you can all be reassured that it's out of sheer, mind-numbing boredom that I'm even acknowledging the minuscule amount of curiosity I harbor toward the multitude of universes you've all been unceremoniously ripped from at what I can only assume was the worst moment possible. If you haven't caught on yet, I'll make it perfectly clear what I'm talking about.

I want you to tell me where you're from. Describe to me, in the most intelligent manner possible, what your home world was like. And don't just give me stupid hoofbeastshit stories. I might have copious amounts of time, but not enough for you to waste with grueling dribble about exactly how vaguely "cool" or "awesome" or "boring" your world is. Make it interesting.

[He pauses, making a bit of a face as he realizes something.]

Oh, yeah.

If anyone else from Alternia has gotten here, and we haven't talked yet, we need to, so get a hold of me.

[ This guy here, with his scarf pulled seasonally up to his nose, is typing furiously with the biggest frown ever on that glowy air-keyboard, while just behind him is a gross dirty sobbing snowman. They both look pretty established in their rolls. It being dirty and sobbing, him scowling and mashing keys.

Eventually the words show, like subtitles. ]

As if I needed more reason to hate this place, I can now add snowmen to the list of things I utterly despise.

[ Speaking of snowmen, there's a sad little voice in the sobbing: "Please, sir? Just a smile?" He darts an extra-potent glare over his shoulder at it. ]

Someone come knock this down or something aren't there those of you out there that would take pleasure in that. Where are the sadists when you actually need them.

[There's the sound of fumbling as someone seems to be trying to get the braclet to work- however, the video function doesn't turn on yet, and all you can hear is the voice of a man.]

Huh, some sort of screen. Er, no no no, wait, I shouldn't get distracted by this. Please, miss maid, there must be some mistake! I can't stay here.

[The man sounds almost manic and rather worried. Looks like someone is not taking this new place very well.]

I'm on the lookout for this murderer, you see, and if I don't get back, he's going to kill my brethern! I can't let that happen. And really, tell Mr. Heimdall that despite what he calls himself, he is not the god I work for. And I know, because, well, God created me.

[The maid responds patiently in a level tone.] You have been brought here to bring life to the world.

Okay, yes. I realize that! Please, you've got the wrong person. Can't I just go home, maybe, and fix what's going on there and then come back here? And why in the world did you take my wings? I feel so normal without them.

You cannot return home. It is impossible. Here is the door to the Welcome Hall, sir.

[The man lets out a frustrated sigh, and suddenly, with a click, the video function turns on, revealing a strange-looking fellow with short red hair and...clocks for eyes??]

Wait a second, what did this button on the screen do? Hello? Anyone out there? It seems to be recording me...well, that's ingenious, actually.

No, stop it, Cheriour, you can't be distracted! Oh dear, I have to get back...I can't stay here. Not at all. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear...

[Under the cover of his hood, Archer regarded the device recording him. He wasn't entirely sure of the scope of the camera's view and ability to pan, though--so, he didn't notice that in the immediate background, a number of sapling trees could be seen readily. Sweat ran down his cheeks and to his neck visibly, liking from using his 'Growth' ability to the point of numbing half his body to get those saplings as far as he could. The trees themselves looked fairly generic, but they were the basis for Yew Trees--which were wholly famous for being used to manufacture poison and in a small way, provided edible fruit with some caution. There were roughly a dozen variations of the trees present in Sigyn's courtyard, now.

He found himself unable to stand for the moment, falling onto his ass before he could get a word out. To his own luck, the hood stayed planted low enough to keep his eyes unseen.]

...Shit. I forgot what I was going to say, just now.

[You can probably tell just by looking at him that Kovu has been struggling with getting his bracelet to work for a while now. With his lips snarled and his teeth bared, he lets out a weak, all-too-human growl.

[...and then he realizes that it's finally, actually working.

[Whoops. For a second there, he actually looks a little embarrassed with himself...

[It isn't long before he's back to his old self, though, offering the network an irritated glare.]

Does anybody know where I can get some antelope around here?

[That's right. Asgard's resident lion is getting hungry, and apparently this human food just isn't gonna cut it.]

[The video feed flickers to life, and there is a man with dark hair gazing at the "screen" for all to see.  There is something decidedly serpentine about the incline of his head, the way his lips are almost curled into a snarl, exposing a flash of white teeth before he speaks.

The man's voice itself is low, surprisingly so, for such a face;  almost as if there is the perpetual rumbling, the sound of gravel, at the back of the throat.]

Zok bein. Even my own tongue does not come to me as it should, as naturally as I breathe.  Instead my mind is filled with the muddled words of this foreign language, and my body weak.

[He then scoffs – the dry, humourless kind that could pass as a hiss.]

Who encases me in this prison of flesh, rips my Voice from my throat and takes away my wings? These "gods"? Meyye. I know nothing of these so-called gods.

[Man, he's just a bundle of sunshine, isn't he?]

In defeat, I have done nothing to warrant humiliation.

[The video screen turns on, and there's a woman with impeccably styled purple hair leaning … a little too close to the screen. After a moment she backs up, and squints a little, adjusting her red-rimmed glasses. If you look closely, you might see behind her several dress forms with garments on them, in various states of completion.]

Ah … yes, I think it's working! Hello!

Yes, so I had a few things to give to some people … after everyone was so kind and generous to me upon my arrival, I simply couldn't let that kindness go unrewarded!

So! If I could speak to Eshkol and Souji Seta, please? I'm afraid yours are the only ones I have finished, but anyone else who helped me on my first day here would be welcome to see what I've been working on for you!

[The video clicks on to a shot of one of Asgard's maids. You've seen them. They've accosted all you poor, hapless souls who have been brought to this place. She's smiling at the bracelet's owner, wearing red and explaining how to reach Hel's house from the Palace. After she finishes, she looks to the camera and asks if there are any other questions. The bracelet is set down on the floor, and there's the sound of rustling paper as the owner consults their map]

Oh...uhm. Yes. What's in the library?

[The voice is feminine, quiet and polite albeit somewhat monotone. The maid begins explaining, and the bracelet is set back on the owner's wrist. For a moment, all is still before the bracelet's owner swings a steel pipe solidly at the maid's head. It connects with a loud THUNK. The maid doesn't seem to notice, and keeps talking. There's a perplexed noise from the owner and she swings again, only to get the same effect. After a moment, the post switches to text mode]

There is something off about this place. Most people seem to notice when they are struck over the head, but this woman doesn't even flinch. If one can believe her, we are here for an important purpose and we might not be in danger, but this--

[Back to video - another swing at the maid's head before text mode restarts]

--is suspicious. I'm not sure how to feel, being in a place where this--

[Another swing at the maid, then back to text]

--has no meaning. It's something to think about. I don't know how anyone else feels about this place, and I don't really care much. But if you were feeling comfortable with the situation, maybe you should reconsider. Something to keep in mind.