get our kicks on an ocean of antics

[Phone! For the first time, Mayfield, have an irritated-sounding Cynric.]

Mayfield, I know that you send people home all the time, but if I am to remain here, can the interesting ones at least stay with me? It's not often famous composers of opera roll into your life, and that you might be given the chance to be the lead of the opera he is composing.

[A pause.] But that's the way things go. Even outside of Mayfield. Being permanently droned is the closest we have to death, after all.

If anyone had been getting voice lessons from Mr. Salieri, I would be glad to offer in his place. I have centuries of practice and knowledge so I know you will find me to be a satisfactory instructor. My name is Cynric; feel free to contact me.

[With that, he hangs up. Not!family or visitors will find him sitting on the porch and pouting while stuffing his face with red licorice. Hephaestus, his dodo, is beside himself as he can tell there's something wrong with his master, but since they still can't communicate, he doesn't know what. He's flitting about trying to cheer Cynric up.]

Are there any tailors in town? The post office returned my clothes to me but took two of my fingers! _{Not to mention they got all bloody after that...}

I was thinking maybe I could have someone help recreate them, then I can return these to the post office and get my fingers back! Brilliant, eh? I don't have a lot to give you in return since the town won't give me a job but... I don't know, I'll figure something out! I'm confident I can be of help somehow. Errands and such? I even have a bike now to do it with! I've even figured out how to ride it now.

[Phonecall to one and all! The voice coming over the line is hushed and irritated.]


...good people of Mayfield. I require assistance. Something strange has happened to my housemate. Zevran. Tall blonde fellow? Yes. He uh...

[there's a pause, and the sound of things being moved about]

Well I can't go into detail here. Not very safe, you see. All I know is this: he woke me up this morning about doing something to the Milkman who, as I have also recently found out is suspicious indeed! I don't know what, exactly, but I'm sure violence was involved. After all...

[Another pause, another sound of shifting]

Forgive me. I don't trust this barricade. Ah, yes, anyway, there's that other drone fellow in the house, the one who calls me his brother? Yes, it seems Zevran has seen fit to stab him to death at the kitchen table. And then sort of gave me a look that said, "Oh Cynric, you might be fun to stab as well! Let me try!" Not much acting like himself, not even close. I told him he was going to get droned, but I thought drones were a brainless, peaceful lot! This is most certainly not the case. Why did no one warn me this is what happens when you're droned.

I think I can get out from my bedroom window. But just a fair warning, dear Mayfield, 1669 Nelson Street is not a safe place tonight!

[With that, the phone hangs up. Cynric will be found not long afterwards scrambling out of his bedroom window and trying to make it into a nearby tree to climb down. Curse his short limbs.]

[[OOC - Zevran-mun doesn't want to play out drone!Zev, but if your characters come to their house, you'll be met with a decidedly homicidal, not-very-Zevran-like Zevran. You might get seriously injured/murdered. Cynric will be staying away, that's for sure.]]