[log] i have so much rage. just waiting for someone to wrong me.

[apostatised]

While there are a lot of things in the world that Martel prioritizes above modern technology, and especially above 'disliking modern technology' - at the end of the day he's really not fond of it. He can't help it; he's a man of his era, and it'll be a long time before he's quite comfortable in Candice's world or with the trappings of it. It's a nuisance, now, that ignorance; when magical means of tracing the source of Severus's transmission fail him, he's left frustrated and without the knowledge to try something else.

Or the inclination to use the phone himself, also, but one way or another he does manage to get a hold of Grif, to meet him and see if he can't do something with the damn thing.

Comments

[one-drafted-man.livejournal.com]

Grif arrives a few minutes after Martel, appearing out of one of his usual green teleportals and removing his helmet once he's sure that things are stable. He's probably a bit more heavily armed than Martel might be used to seeing him, with his guns racked on an additional backpack rather than the armor itself.

"Hey. Your message wasn't very clear, so I just kind of loaded up for bear. So, what's up?"

[errantknights.livejournal.com]

Look; the reference actually isn't lost on him for once and Martel snorts with brief amusement. "I've a minor problem with a man I've contracted." This is a terrible start, considering Grif's armament, but Martel doesn't look much different than he ever does - more irritated, maybe. "He's missing. No hide nor hair of him, and I've run out of ways to trace where in God's name he's got to. We got a message, a day or so ago - this is not my technology, I rather thought I'd defer to more experienced minds."

He has this automated transmission (http://aterastrum.livejournal.com/4077.html) on his pinpoint.

[one-drafted-man.livejournal.com]

The description of the problem draws a look of acute sympathetic pain. "Aw, man. I've had that experience, a couple of times over the last few years. It's always a great big pain in the ass. Okay, let's see what we can do, here."

Grif settles himself down in a seat and gestures for the PINpoint. He puts his helmet back on, then pulls some cabling out of one of his belt pouches, which he uses to connect the PINpoint to his armor. Just so that Martel can see what he's doing as he does it (regardless of whether or not he'll be able to understand any of it, Grif figures he might appreciate some visual feedback anyway), he switches on his helmet's holoprojector, mirroring his helmet's display onto it.

[errantknights.livejournal.com]

"Charming," Martel murmurs, of Grif's experience, probably not meaning it. Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, and therefore one he is utterly at home with.

Unlike this, which no, he doesn't understand in the slightest. Observing anyway does make curbing the impatience a little easier than if he'd had to wait in total blindness, though.

[one-drafted-man.livejournal.com]

For a few minutes, Grif does what he can to examine the message and trace its source. It's mildly flashy looking, but the grumbling that filters out at low volume out of his helmet speakers attests to his frustration. Finally, he shakes his head and says, "Okay, screw it, I can't manage it, but I'm admittedly not the best at this, so I'm gonna make a couple calls."

A pair of windows open up, accompanied by a brief sound of sweeping frequencies. The first resolves into an image of a middle-aged, suave-looking man with slicked-back black hair, who Grif calls "Frankel." At his boss' request, Frankel transfers him to "Shane," who turns out to be an intense-looking young man with slightly-tousled brown hair and a vandyke. The second window shows a deceptively youthful-looking middle-aged blond man named Holbrook, who waves his more grizzled, salt-and-pepper (mostly salt) partner McBride into the frame.

Quick introductions with Martel (an image of whom from Grif's armor's cameras can be seen in a tiny portion of the display) are made in the course of explaining the problem. This basically boils down to, "I need more science," after which the combined efforts of ONI and Grif's own self-made PINpoint expert are set to work.

[errantknights.livejournal.com]

Despite himself, Martel's actually fascinated by the proceedings; he doesn't quite understand, but he pays attention, filing one thing or another away in his mind for future reference, research or just because it looked sort of interesting.

Technology on this level ... doesn't actually look a damn thing like magic, to Martel's eye, but he can see how someone of his own world who simply didn't know any better might mistake it. (Elenes are not disinclined to burn people alive for witchcraft, so this is a mildly entertaining mental diversion.)

[one-drafted-man.livejournal.com]

No burning people alive, Martel. ;_;

Meanwhile, this time, the attempt takes a while longer, as ONI's additional computing power, authorized by his handlers and guided by Shane's expertise, are able to analyze the message enough for at least an initial trace attempt. For this purpose, Shane breaks out a set of probes he's been working on, combining PINpoints and sensor packages with remote-controlled toy aircraft. The probes get deployed, and the readings they send back end up being... confusing, to say the least.

"It's the damnedest thing, boss," Shane says. "It's like the signal got bounced around through a bunch of different universes, and I think there's even a couple of time shifts, which I don't think we've really got anything for, before finally popping out of that last portal to reach Mr. Martel here. Trail ran cold before we could even get close."

[errantknights.livejournal.com]

"Lord," Martel corrects, absently - even if the title doesn't sit as comfortably as it could, he's not going to be referred to as mister - but his mind is less on modes of address and more on what Shane's just said. "There are days I truly bloody dislike the nexus."

For him, these days are not as often as they are for some people, but they still happen, and usually involve alternates. Or this.

[one-drafted-man.livejournal.com]

He doesn't say anything, but Shane's expression in response to the correction alternates between mildly apologetic and eye-rolling.

Grif thanks everyone for their help before closing the connections, then looks back over at Martel and shrugs. "Yeah. Sorry, dude. Some days, you just can't catch a break." He disconnects Martel's PINpoint and hands it back, then gets up and goes to the bar, taking his helmet off in the process, to get himself some beer.

[errantknights.livejournal.com]

Certainly Martel must notice, but if he takes any offence he keeps it entirely to himself. "Apparently." Not, of course, that his concern is anything more than getting his money's worth on those partially-complete wards.

Of course.

...he's going to have a drink, anyway.

[one-drafted-man.livejournal.com]

Naturally.

Once they've seen to their drinks -- Grif will even pour his beer into a glass, rather than just drink from the bottle, and while he's back here, he can get whatever Martel's wanting -- Grif raises his glass in a toast.

"Well, here's to your guy: from my experience of these sorts of things, as annoying as it might be to any of us to not be able to find him? Life is probably immeasurably shittier for him, wherever he is."

[errantknights.livejournal.com]

Red wine, unsurprisingly, is Martel's drink of choice. He tips his glass a little, head tilted, exhaling with a sort of evened out frustration. "To Master Snape's continued good health," he says, dryly, and grimaces as he drinks.

If he actually understood the significance of Christmas, the timing would probably make him laugh. Alas.

[one-drafted-man.livejournal.com]

The red was, indeed, what Grif had assumed was going to be Martel's selection, so that works out fine. Grif's beer, meanwhile, is a slightly spicy-smelling golden ale that was poured out of a bottle whose label bears a painted rendition of some chunk of peninsular land and the name, "La Fin du Monde."

The name catches his attention and, after taking his drink, he asks, "Snape? The one who runs the school in the Nexus, or is there another kicking around these days?"

[errantknights.livejournal.com]

Martel attempts to imagine Severus corralling children in the nexus, and his mind shudders to a halt before it can really get anywhere with that. He shakes his head, briefly, "No, another. I've contracted him to work on my castle wards."

[one-drafted-man.livejournal.com]

Grif nods. "Ahhh, okay. Makes sense; aside from the school stuff, he seems to be something of an authority on the magic stuff."

As he puts his glass to his lips again, he momentarily pictures Snape (the one he knows, anyway, even if that's not, technically, correct) and Martel standing next to one another, talking. Fortunately, he isn't at the point of tipping the glass back when the phrase a house on fire flashes through his mind, and so he's able to clamp his reaction down to a brief little smile before he finally drinks.

[errantknights.livejournal.com]

"Quite so," Martel agrees, momentarily mystified by the point of that smile and evidently deciding against asking. "It's months of work, he's been in and out of the castle for weeks before this."

There was also an exciting incident killing an inconvenient monster underneath the castle. Martel's still figuring out what to do with the corpse. It's...sort of large.

[one-drafted-man.livejournal.com]

Monster corpse barbecue? Om nom?

"And I take it that, even if you wanted to handle it that way, which I'm guessing you probably don't, getting someone new in to do it would require at least as much time as you've already spent first undoing all the work he'd already done?"

[errantknights.livejournal.com]

Martel would like to have left behind the days of eating whatever because it's convenient, thank you. That is just gross.

"And I wouldn't, myself, care to be the person trying to undo his work, yes, precisely."