runeknight_dyce

Pah, as if -I- have to stoop so low as to "duel" an insignificant little peon.  Hahah - No.

On a more important note, my power continues to grow even as "Mr. Sucky" keeps consuming the magic around it.  Personally, I could care less.  More power for me - and I don't even have to get my hands dirty to get it this time.  Heh.

Honestly though, I'm getting slightly bored with this.  So many of the locals spend their time in the mall (where magic is somehow restrained, and violence is discouraged) that I don't have sufficient -targets- to play with.  I need to think of some other way to entertain myself.

Ah, power, I love you so.  This "snowglobe" or "snowball" or "Mr. Sucky" thing has really begun to boost my magical talents.  I haven't felt this much power since the cursed Zodiac Stone.  So today, I went out and gave the enhanced magical talents a spin.  Several wild chocobos are now frogs, as are several would-be mall patrons (I caught them before they went inside).  I amused myself by confusing and/or blinding the other potential mall-goers before they went inside (and thus outside of whatever it is that keeps magic so tightly controlled inside there).  Good times for all involved, I assure you.  Or, well, just for me.  But that's what matters.

I spoke to a concerned Gafgarion this morning.  He had lost Worker 8 (already, I know), but I couldn't really bring myself to be too concerned.  I mean, my share of the gil would be great, but it's not essential.  I -was- happy to hear, though, that he had been "feeding" the snowball more energy.  The rich get richer, it seems.

Hahahahaha!

Power, you say?  For free?  At no cost?  Oh, I'm not one to complain about that.  Hell, it doesn't even seem as though I have to actually -do- anything.  Folks are saying this new "mall overlord" is mad.  I disagree.  Given where he apparently placed his -trust-, I can't help but feel that this fellow knows -exactly- what's what around here.  Or at least what -should be- what.

I must admit, however, that things have not yet paid off as much as I might like.  There was a squabble, in the beginning, over control of Worker 8.  I am slightly perturbed that Worker 8 is no longer under my direct control, but I believe the situation has been worked out.  It seems Gafgarion stands to make quite a large sum of money off of this new madness, should Worker 8 remain out of touch with others.  And so, Gafgarion, Draclau, Ultimecia and I decided to come to an agreement.  We will each take a share of Gafgarion's eventual reward (Ultimecia is claiming what would rightfully be Worker 8's "cut" to make up for the large costs he has inflicted upon the store).  Given the -gifts- that have been so rightfully bestowed upon us, I do not believe that we will encounter much of a problem.

This VR tournament is, again, a mistake.  I'm not sure why I keep getting involved.  I was pitted against this "Noctis" fellow, and soundly defeated... with a single blow.  Bah, their software is obviously too flawed to be of any use in modeling -real- combat.

Forgive me if I'm not keeping you "in the loop" as much as normal.  Draclau and I have been busying working on some things, and it is eating up the majority of our time.  "Journals" easily slip ones mind when "plans" are underway.

This local disaster (constant, I know) seems to have displaced several other residents in the region.  We've apparently been lucky, though, and our new homes sustained almost no serious damage.  They remain eerily -perfect- - but such is fitting for one of my stature.

Of our new neighbors, one is simply a boor.  His tact is... nonexistent.  He makes disgustingly loud love to women far his junior.  We can -hear it- through the -buildings-.  I feel nothing but sympathy for his current roommate.

Speaking of his roommate, he is one of the specialists in magical stones (as I mentioned in my previous post, similar to Zodiac Stones from home).  He actually came by, with wine in hand, and sat down for a drink with Draclau and myself.  We discussed the mall, other residents, and our homes.  Apparently Dr. Cid is from a world called Ivalice as well, though it is not the same as the one from which Draclau, Gafgarion, Worker 8 and myself hail.  Draclau seems extremely interested in the nature of this - he ran off to do "research" after Dr. Cid left us.  I only casually broached the subject of the magical stones (Cid is, indeed, an expert in the field - at least in one variety of them), and in doing so discovered that he, too, was a "villain" of his world.

I must say, it's nice to finally meet someone here who I feel some form of kinship with (Ultimecia may be close, but I find she fails at being adequately professional).

I apologise for the continued delays.  Again, I feel that blame rests squarely on the shoulders of this -place- and its lumbering master.  Surely with more -competent- management, there would be fewer -disasters-.

But I digress.  It is time for me to actually describe some of the events of the last week.

First, the "party."  I believe I was correct, it -was- a trap.  But not one set specifically to antagonize -me-.  Rather, it was a trap for the whole of the community here.  All of the residents were dragged there, against their will.  Or, given that there were some willing attendees, all of the -intelligent- residents were dragged there against their will.  Draclau actually was teleported from his evening bath, in the nude.  It was... disconcerting.  I myself found that even the most arcane of rituals I could find could not shield me from the "party"'s effects.  My wards shorted out as the magic triggered, and I was pulled from my laboratory, clawing and screaming the whole way.  Upon my appearance, I quickly searched my robes for a sword, then, finding nothing, my boot for a dagger.  I had it out in a flash, only to have it snatched away by the monstrous NORG.  He appeared -amused- by my plight, and kept the dagger (I was later informed by Draclau that it was accepted as a "gift").  When I turned to flee, the monster grappled me and squeezed.  Once I was released, I found my energy drained.  There was no escape.  I resigned myself to the party, always staying on the edges of crowds, trying to keep my back to the wall, so as to avoid an ambush from the darkness.

While at the party, -he- was all too obvious.  A young man, dark hair, apparently attempting to -hide- behind the -punchbowl-.  What a fool.  He reminded me a bit of my brother, in that regard (my brother -was- in attendance, but he remained too close to T.G. Cid to allow me an opportunity).  Suffice to say, his attempts to remain hidden were none too subtle.  Neither was his apparent amazement at my presence.  He sat there, behind the punch, mouth agape and finger pointing.  At one point both Draclau and Gafgarion approached me for conversation.  The young man looked as though he was going to have a stroke, his hand moving to point at each of us in turn, his eyes wide with either fear, surprise, or perhaps both.

-Eventually- I was allowed to leave.  I -thought- the ordeal over, but alas, it was not.

The next day, the letters began.  Not just one, or two, or three.  No.  Draclau was forced to get a broom to sweep the ever-growing pile of letters away from the door.  The young man from the party, whose name I have learned is -Squall- (what kind of childish name is that?), kept sprinting to the door to deliver them.  I believe he thought he was being stealthy.  He was not.  His letters outlined his rudimentary thought processes.  He alluded to something called the "Conspiracy."  He claimed we were a part of it.  He was the perfect example of the -madness- of this place.  Let me share several of the letters with you.

"I know who you are!"
"You will pay!"
"The Conspiracy will end!"
"I still know who you are!"
"I strike from the shadows!"
"You all have stupid hair!"

Truly the work of a madman.

I didn't really think much of it.  Obviously the man is disturbed (and not the -healthy-, villainous, type of disturbed).  But -then- he approached me in the mall, trailing smoke and ash, his eyes aflame with some kind of idiot-rage.  He barked something at me about his clown fish.  Told me I was his enemy, and a traitor to sea-life everywhere.  Then - and I swear to you that this is the truth, witnessed with my own two eyes - he raised his hand with a glowing stone in it, screamed something about origami, and then urinated and defecated inside his pants before falling over into a twitching pile of foolishness.  I couldn't help but laugh (maniacly, of course) right there in the mall.  I believe this "Squall" fellow may have curled into the fetal position and started sucking his thumb.  Honestly, if this is what the -heroes- are like around here, my job will be all too easy.

And that is the story I wished to share.  The party was misery incarnate, but the after effects were... entertaining.  They've also sparked my interests in the magical stone the man was holding.  Asking Draclau, I've discovered that it is somewhat similar to the zodiac stones we dealt with back home.  Apparently "materia" is not usually as potent as the zodiac stones, but it is also not usually sentient, and will not possess its user.  I've ordered Draclau to investigate the matter further.  It seems we have a specialist (perhaps two) in the field in residence at the mall.  I plan on taking up conversation with him on the matter, perhaps after this current tournament.

This place.  It is -madness-.  I fail to see any other way of describing it.

The so-called "party" last week was a travesty.  All of the freak residents of this ever-more-disturbing locale were out in force - and -by- force.  It... was traumatizing.  But I will -return- to this "party" shortly.

After the recovery from -that- mess, and dealing with my incompetent companions, even -more- madness has crept in.  First, a new tournament, which I was eager to enroll in.  It is only just beginning, but even now I find myself regretting it.  I instructed Gafgarion to deliver an anonymous note to my fool-idiot brother, Ramza, inviting him to the tourney (wherein I would damage the programming, causing all "VR" damage to become "real" damage, thus ensuring my brother's painful demise - and causing it to look like an accident at the same time!).  Alas, Gafgarion seems to have misplaced the note (or, as Draclau suggests as a possibility, my brother does not -know- how to read), and my brother did not arrive.  Even worse, I've been forced onto the same team as the apparent madman, Kuja.  I'm... wary of him.  And he's our leader!  Bah!  At least I've some confidence in my other allies.  We shall see, I suppose.  Some physical combat might be -good- for me.

Wonderful.  I have to deal with the toppled building (we're upside down now - wonders never cease in this madhouse!).  I will return, hopefully shortly.

My mechanical companion just returned.  His logging system was... malfunctioning.  I've reset it now, and it appears the error was caused by alcohol consumption.  At the party.

I have a drunk robot.  It is... disconcerting.  I had drunk -companions- as well, but... Drunk.  Robot.  Gah!

Oh, there was a party.  I -was- forced there.  Perhaps I'll share my... -observations- later.

And my -rage-.

There is a party tonight.  It is mandatory.  Surely no one -actually- believes me foolish enough to fall for this -obvious- trap.  I have been assured that I -must- be there.  I'd like to see them -make- me.

Our first week here was certainly a mess.  My unexpected illness was simply disruptive, and our manager and employer being a child gave me -another- body to "babysit," along with the construct and the man-fool Gafgarion.  However, there has been some success in taking control of the store.  While I still need to establish a "5 year plan" (or, hopefully more accurately, a 5-week-plan), it is my firm belief that control of the store will be a perfect stepping stone toward control of this entire establishment, and the eventual defeat - and murder - of my fool-brother.

Ultimecia is back to normal, and insists on taking control of the store back.  However, I have insinuated myself into a position of enough control that it will be hard to remove me.  In addition, Draclau seems to have done... -something- to the books, which only he seems to comprehend.  So only Gafgarion and Worker 8 remain removable from the store.  Even they, though, have proved indispensable - Ultimecia has confided to me that, despite the protesting crowds of the week before, actual -sales- have never been higher, and many customers actually left feedback complementing how helpful Gafgarion and Worker 8 have been.

I return today to our employment.  Unfortunately, I seem to have returned too late to prevent further horrors from unfolding.

It seems that Gafgarion gave the young Ultimecia command access to Worker 8.  When I returned I was greeted by the image of Worker 8, on all fours, still in the display undergarments, wandering the mall, with the young Ultemicia riding him like a horse.  It was... distrubing.  So -very- disturbing.  I put a stop to it as soon as I could, and instructed Worker 8 to ignore Ultimecia's commands without my express approval.  She threw a tantrum, as befitting her new age, and I left her to Gafgarion to deal with the situation.

That image may be burned into my mind.  I fear the nightmares I may have tonight when I sleep.