FJ2: House CallFebruary 19, 2009. Alright, I'm in. The sign-in went painlessly for this first mission. Actually, they had my partner's name for me as soon as I signed up. Her name is Jack Bex Worb. I looked up her file in the Organization's archives and discovered that she's number 5 in the ranks. Her world of origin is the exact same one as mine, even though her skin tone is the same as everyone else's.
I spoke with her as soon as all of the teams were announced; ours is team 13. She originally came off as serious and surly in a composed way. She had long brunette hair and wore spectacles like mine; I wouldn't say her looks were godly, but she was pretty enough. Our talk started off with introductions, past and present identities, occupations and such. I learned that she had been an apothecary of sorts before she was robbed, a talent for which had been quite maintained in her current
FJ1: New ArrivalFebruary 18, 2009. Today I have made a new, invigorating discovery. I have encountered others like myself, labeled heartless and unfit to call themselves humans. I have regained my lost sense for the pen, and so I have decided to update this journal. But this will not be some mundane scrap of script; I will pour my invigoration into this before I find my inkwell dry again. I shall commence with a few of my memories of the days before I unwillingly took on this current state.
I was once a studious youth by the name of Geoffrey, always serious about my education and reprimanding those who shamelessly shirked their work. I might have been a scholar, but I was no pushover. I was the apprentice to the town's official document crafter, a profession that I wished to go into myself. It was a high paying job, especially with the clientele who frequented the shop. The two more prominent and
Skeleton Keys: Chapter 10.1Chapter 10: Playing Pirates
I stood at the helm to our glorious new vessel, allowing the winds of space to brush over my face. I didn't rightfully care about the laws of physics and biology we were breaking. All of my attentions were on this latest sensation, my imaginations taking flight like our ship. I had always dreamed of the pirate's life, and this latest segment to our adventure brought me even closer to that seemingly-unrealistic desire. Maybe it wasn't so impossible. I mean, I was sailing with Jack Skellington in the crow's nest and Donald and Goofy on the deck below keeping us shipshape. Impossibilities were practically commonplace here.
A call from above interrupted my thoughts. "Michael, ship approaching on the port stern!"
"Is she friend or enemy?" I replied.
Jack looked through the spy glass from is perch. The approaching vessel had a red hull with an
Skeleton Keys, Chapter 4.4My eyes slowly opened some time later. Some loose grains of sand fell from my eyelashes and hair as I sat up. The others were gathered around me; the magic carpet was under me, acting as a sleeping mat. The moon was once again hanging over my head, and a blanket of stars accompanied its pale light in the night sky. Apparently I had been asleep longer than I thought.
You okay, Michael? Goofy asked.
I vigorously shook the remaining sand out of my hair and replied, Yeah, yeah. I was just a little tired, is all. What did I miss?
Were back at the Cave of Wonders, for a start, Donald answered, pointing behind me. I turned to where he pointed, and, sure enough, the tiger head of sand loomed over us with jaws open wide.
We just got here, so its not like you missed much, added Jack.
I groggily stood up, turning to the Cave of Wonders entrance.
CL1: VendettaOctober 31, 1990. Halloween night in Tortuga; it was just as rowdy as it was at any other time with rum bottles flying across the streets, blood being spilt at the drop of a hat, and the sounds of laughter and faces being broken against fists permeating the air. It was just outside of this haven for heathens that the Shadow sailed from, a pirate ship of unrivaled brutality and one of the few that boldly showed off its red Jolly Roger.
Captain Benjamin strode from his quarters and looked up into the rising moon. It was a crescent with its points dipped towards the ocean. Benjamin wore a similar expression on his own face. He could never stand this ridiculous time of year, especially not in Tortuga. He was a serious man, a man infamous amongst his crew and even other rival pirate ships for never having cracked a smile in the past several years. It was rumored that the furrowed brow beneath his tri-