/hopes very much this is okay…! Novad being so vocal is for purposes of sample, not so much a plan for actual gameplay/
[Subject:] Daemon:Novad
[Several things have become instantly clear about Clint—to himself, to his daemon, and quite possibly, in a moment, to whoever receives the transmission. First: he prefers thinking as a team activity. Second: he thrives (and secretly likes) when it challenges him. Third: he likes getting outside intended boundaries. Bonus fourth for those with the inside knowledge to recognize the daemon's smoky voice: he misses his old partner.
The transmission begins as Voice, and has two of them. First, Clint:]
Will you just transmit what I tell you to?
[Second: quickly obviously the daemon.]
The point of this is to communicate with others. No one's going to know what you're saying.
Let me worry about that, will you? It's kind of the point.
Okay, okay. Which do you want to start with.
Text.
Fine.
[Transmission switches abruptly to text. Which scrolls itself out with almost reluctant and/or sarcastic slowness.]
9.24-24.9.22 / 9 / 9.9-9-24.24-22
[Everything not banter is a S.H.I.E.L.D. recognition tactic. This one: standard alphanumeric conversion expressed in Roman numerals themselves alphanumerically converted, whose translation was a falconry reference re: restraint. Simultaneously a status update, an identification, and a request for extraction.
Probably in response to non-transmitted exchange, feed switches back to voice]
Ври, да помни.
[Said by him. A commandment of Fury's in Nat's language. Lie, but remember.]
Video now, please.
Yes, sir.
Don't call me that.
Yes, sugarbutt.
Ugh.
[video activates in time to catch the end of Clint rolling his eyes. But he adjusts quickly to look down the barrel, out at whoever may be receiving, and offer the slightest of not really happy smiles.]
'We defy augury.'
[A temporospatial reference in hopes of orientation, for whoever might recognize it; and yeah, a bit of cheek, even if you don't. That one's for Coulson.
… who's not going to be answering … … …
Shake it off, man.
Though the feed remains video, the female voice remains off-camera:]
So the idea is that anyone who can possibly understand any of that will present themselves back as countersign—?
Hey, could you not share our secrets?
You haven't confided any yet. Except some of what you said when you were still half conscious, which—
Re: REVISIONS - sample
[Subject:] Daemon:Novad
[Several things have become instantly clear about Clint—to himself, to his daemon, and quite possibly, in a moment, to whoever receives the transmission. First: he prefers thinking as a team activity. Second: he thrives (and secretly likes) when it challenges him. Third: he likes getting outside intended boundaries. Bonus fourth for those with the inside knowledge to recognize the daemon's smoky voice: he misses his old partner.
The transmission begins as Voice, and has two of them. First, Clint:]
Will you just transmit what I tell you to?
[Second: quickly obviously the daemon.]
The point of this is to communicate with others. No one's going to know what you're saying.
Let me worry about that, will you? It's kind of the point.
Okay, okay. Which do you want to start with.
Text.
Fine.
[Transmission switches abruptly to text. Which scrolls itself out with almost reluctant and/or sarcastic slowness.]
9.24-24.9.22 / 9 / 9.9-9-24.24-22
[Everything not banter is a S.H.I.E.L.D. recognition tactic. This one: standard alphanumeric conversion expressed in Roman numerals themselves alphanumerically converted, whose translation was a falconry reference re: restraint. Simultaneously a status update, an identification, and a request for extraction.
Probably in response to non-transmitted exchange, feed switches back to voice]
Ври, да помни.
[Said by him. A commandment of Fury's in Nat's language. Lie, but remember.]
Video now, please.
Yes, sir.
Don't call me that.
Yes, sugarbutt.
Ugh.
[video activates in time to catch the end of Clint rolling his eyes. But he adjusts quickly to look down the barrel, out at whoever may be receiving, and offer the slightest of not really happy smiles.]
'We defy augury.'
[A temporospatial reference in hopes of orientation, for whoever might recognize it; and yeah, a bit of cheek, even if you don't. That one's for Coulson.
… who's not going to be answering … … …
Shake it off, man.
Though the feed remains video, the female voice remains off-camera:]
So the idea is that anyone who can possibly understand any of that will present themselves back as countersign—?
Hey, could you not share our secrets?
You haven't confided any yet. Except some of what you said when you were still half conscious, which—
O-kay sign off please, computer.
Not a computer.
Sign off, m'lady.
Not a lady.
Sign off, dammit.
[Obligingly signs off]