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Message: <blockquote data-quote="drunkadelic" data-source="post: 265123" data-attributes="member: 4020">7.18.02 - Rebirth: Part One KNOCK-KNOCK "Enter."A middle-aged man steps into the room, scrambling to keep from dropping a large stack of files."Your newest agents, sir.... they're ready," he exclaims, dropping the files onto a small table with a thud."Excellent."Sargen Malekith doesn't get excited. As the administrator for the secret planar peacekeeping service known as Nexus, his position doesn't afford him the pleasure of extreme emotions. But if he *were* able to be excited, he would be at this time. Coolly, he walks down the hall in his very precise and meticulous manner. Stopping by a door marked; "Ward 19" he looks both ways down the hall, sees no one and smirks to himself. "I love this job."3 figures lay on gurneys inside Ward 19. Suddenly, a deep voice cuts through the absence of light and sound. "Open your eyes, lads."The figures groan, mumble, and at the persistance indicated in the speaker's tone of voice, eventually rouse."Ah. Good to see you are all awake. My name is Sargen Malekith. I am the director here, but we'll explain more about that later. I'm sure each of you are wondering to yourselves, "Why, what, where." So we'll begin there."Suddenly, before Sargen can form his next sentence, Wilbur Smithington III (henceforth known as Mr. Smith) proclaims, "What on earth is that?" pointing in the general direction of the kobold looking nervously around the room.Not missing a beat, Sargen replies, "A Kobold, Mr. Smithington, it's a Kobold. Our Kobold as a matter of fact.""Oh. Jolly goo-- What? OUR Kobold???""In time, Smithington, In time. Now...If you'll let me continue."Smithington thinks better of trying the large dark-skinned man's patience further."You all are dead. Well, I suppose that wouldn't be accurate. You all were dead. Think back to your last memories. Probably something like a movement towards a white light down a tunnel or what have you. But we here at Nexus have need of your skills. All three of your would have died what we like to call "premature deaths." Taken before your time as it were. That's where we stepped in.Mr. Smith turns white at the thought of this, "I died?""Yes, you all did.""How???""Well, Mr. Smithington, some *friends* of yours decided it would be nice if they switched the information in your dossier to switch the target from a "witness" to "your father". Being so concentrated on duty, you didn't notice the switch."Mr. Smith blushes.Sargen smiles coyly. "But we could put your striving for perfection to good use, Mr. Smithington. All of you have abilities that we need. But enough about that. We've answered the what and how, let's get to the where and why."Three pairs of eyes afix firmly somewhere between Sargen's neatly trimmed goatee and his shiny bald head."This is Nexus. We are a private organization based in the outer planes of existence. You fellows are not on the prime anymore. That means that if we had windows, and you looked out, you would not see the familiar landscape of mountains, grass, and hills."For the first time, Matthew, the kobold speaks up in his squeaky voice, "Prove it! I don't believe you."Sargen makes a gesture, snaps his fingers, and suddenly Matthew is hovering 3 miles off the ground staring down at the landscape of The Outlands. A few moments later, Mr. Smithington appears next to him, flailing about and screaming.Sargen turns to the elf, Drem."Would you like a ride as well?""Um, no thanks. My tutor had informed me of the planes a long time ago.""Very good then." Sargen snaps his fingers once more, and both Matthew and Mr. Smith are teleported back into Ward 19. "In any case gentlemen. Let's get to business. To put it as straightforward as I can... we need you. We needed you badly enough to bring you back from the dead. So if you're willing to help us, we can promise you a *very* lucrative deal.""Lucrative?" Mr. Smith drools.Sargen nods and waves his hand. 3 pieces of parchment and quills appear next to the three on their gurneys."What we have there is a contract for three years of service. Sign it, and we'll begin your training. If you read through and decline our offer, we shall remove any memories of this encounter, your past life, and re-implant you into the prime with a case of "amnesia." Either way, you get a second chance. My way, however, and you might get to save the universe once or twice.""Lucrative?" Mr. Smith once again exclaims.Sargen nods.All three men sign their contract.</blockquote>

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