MC23: Calm Before the StormingJuly 28, 2010. A light rain pattered on the windows of Memory's Skyscraper. Gathered just inside the lobby were eleven figures as diverse as they come. All were well-equipped to kill, none with murderous intent for any other around them. Each had their quirks and irks; but, for now, most of them were annoyed at their missing host.
"'E always does 'dis," the Turncoat Privateer groaned. "'E calls a meetin' and makes sure 'e's 'de bloody last one to arrive."
"Speak for yourself," snapped the Disgruntled Scholar. "To every one of our meetings, he has been the first to arrive."
"Our meetings were always here," Kespix admitted.
"Well, none o' 'dis does bullocks to tell us where 'e is," Rynexethak snorted. "I've barely seen 'dat ass since 'de concert."
Cajexin snorted in her corner as well. "And people wonder why women are considered items. Keep your mind out of your pants for once
CA1: Sing a Sad SongA record player spun in the corner of the room behind him, behind his desk, next to the window through which shone the rays of the noonday sun. He sat unmoving, his shadow looming unwavering on the briefcase before him, as he listened to the music. It was a solemn string of notes, but he still found a smile on his face. His foot even seemed to conduct the music from under his desk, swinging in time to it. Listening to such music was how he relaxed.
Fixtures of work were the only other things around him: a chalkboard along the same wall as the record player covered in notes and schedules, a phone in the corner far from him but close to the chalkboard, a clothing rack across the room from him full to toppling, a series of pictures and frames along the otherwise empty wall on his right (the full frames depicting scenes of himself with happy children), a chair with a two-foot-high figure and an accordion on it oh, did I mention t
KFR7: Savannah SurvivalJuly 1, 2010. The training had been rough at times. Kespix had never had to get used to a new world form, let alone one that was as dramatic a change as this. Still, he had survived these last couple of weeks on the grassy plains as easily as he had survived in the Coliseum.
This last week proved a challenge of a different flavor. Instead of the salty tang of training sweat, al he could taste was bitter boredom. The Consortium Superiors had run off to confront the Syndicate's top dogs (or cats; he didn't keep track of the world forms) after the training session ended. A good portion of the other Consortium members had also given their howls and shouts. Such were the prearranged signals for when they confirmed fights.
The Bitter Battler had yet to give his call of war. The Crossroads had grown considerably smaller as he wandered farther and farther away from it; his search for an oppone
FJ14: Home Sweet HomeJune 6, 2010. Complications are arising around me like waves approaching high tide. The two groups that I am in are pulling on me with conflicting ideals and their own varieties of disappointment. I first noticed this with the announcement of Organization Nu's most recent "project" and the follow-up meeting with my associate, Machelix. Needless to say this wasn't as light-hearted as our pre-tournament meeting.
For this particular bit of confidentiality we arranged to meet in the world of one of our newest agents, Dranxealex. It was a somewhat obvious choice, since we had met in this world once before. Having to rely on only two fighters and our respective minions to keep other locals from discovering us didn't fill me with confidence this time around, though. Sitting there in a full suit while he only wore a loose cotton shirt and short pants I asked, "Tell me: what did you find critical with
KFR6: A New Kind of Training
June 2, 2010. The first mission of the Consortium was at hand. The airship had touched down in a world unlike any Kespix had ever seen before, a place called the Pridelands. There was hardly a possible manmade structure around other than the Crossroads. It was all grass, shrubs, and a few trees around a large stone formation in the distance. The Bitter Battler had been told by his Superiors that their enemy, the Syndicate, was planning to invade soon. Their plan was unknown, but for now each member of the Consortium was to prepare for a fight.
What exactly this entailed wasn't made clear until Kespix took his first steps. Immediately he felt the magic of world travel overtake him. It was definitely different than anything he had ever experienced. His chainmail tightened around him, seeming to fuse with his skin; the sound of bones cracking, growing, and reforming
KFR5: Setting the BoardThe rain of the previous nights had finally dried; the cloudy sky was relatively clear of precipitation. Kespix was seated in his room in the world he had come to know as home. The bed he had been generously provided made him feel as if he had slept nightly on a cloud of Olympus. The food provided him with greater strength and much more energy than ever before. His injuries, no matter how severe, were treated with precision and skill to such an extent that sustaining them seemed like only a bad dream. Such service, such protection it almost made him feel god-like. Kespix had a good chuckle at this, given his last mission.
He quickly scowled at himself. This happiness, this levity was demeaning to his warrior's spirit. Of course, what else was he supposed to do? He couldn't exactly attack Machelix, the one who gave him this second chance at life. Besides, he was at a disad
FJ13: Welcome BackApril 18, 2010. My return home wasn't quite as nonchalant as I would have liked. Three weeks had passed since my return to our base. It was curiously quiet during April Fools' Day, but the news I had received the day after Easter filled me with unease: creatures known as "velociraptors" were to be released within the base. Were they a new species of Heartless, or were they creatures native to one of the worlds? Never in my studies of the worlds had I heard of them, so I presumed the former.
I would soon learn the truth.
Other than the initial warning, little else had happened within the Organization. The Missions staff hadn't said anything new, so no new mission records were added. The only news to grace my eyes was the occasional picture taken by the device called a "camera"; Thexlade's "photo" was among the most recent. I deigned to remain out of the common rooms; I didn't want t