Bay 12 Games Forum

In a small, cramped bedroom in the dwarven fortress of Spearbreakers, a little man was sitting on his bed. He was too small to be a human; on the other hand, any dwarf would tell you that he was too tall and skinny to be a dwarf. The man had graying brown hair, a short, pointed beard, thick spectacles, and was dressed in what likely used to be a crisp white suit but was now mostly a filthy brown suit. His name -- or at least what he preferred to be referred to as -- was Mr Frog (no period, if you value your life at all).
   In Mr Frog's hands was a black square object. He was staring at it, sucking on his lip, lost in thought. Every now and then, he would glance over at the room's stone door in the opposite wall nervously. He had, in fact, been doing so for several minutes prior to the intrusion of this narration. He was weighing the options. He had managed to worm himself into a very delicate situation, he knew exactly what he wanted out of it, and the slightest misstep could make the opportunity vanish like the memory of a pleasant dream (not that Mr Frog himself could actually remember what that was like; he hadn't had any pleasant dreams in a very long time).
   Mr Frog finally seemed to come to a decision. He swung himself off the bed and walked the short distance to the door, making sure one last time that it had been sealed. Having done that, he returned to his bed and hunched over the black object protectively. He gently nudged a spot on its side and the front of the object suddenly shone in a glowing, intricately-detailed mosaic forming letters and coloured shapes.
   Or, more concisely, he turned on a Portable Electronic Assistant and was now looking at the main interface.
   Mr Frog poked at the screen a few times, then hesitated, frowning. He glanced around the room absentmindedly. He took a small metal flask out of his pocket, took a sip of its contents, and closed his eyes, his expression softening as he felt the sweet poison rush through his veins. Then he prodded the device's screen once more.
   A pale, blond-haired man appeared on the screen -- Joseph. He had electric blue eyes and a perfectly-square jaw, a perfectly-straight nose, and perfectly-smooth, unblemished skin. Even the little details like his ears looked like they had been sculpted by an artist -- or, more likely, a particularly-skilled surgeon. Mr Frog found the man's appearance to be highly-unsettling; a face that perfect could not possibly be natural. It couldn't possibly be cheap, either.
   Joseph smiled with expert precision, his perfectly-white teeth gleaming. "Ah, Mr Frog," he said cordially; "I trust that you've seen the light?"
   "Y-yes," stammered Mr Frog; he took another sip from his flask and continued, much more calmly: "Yes, I have." "I understand the meaning of what you said to me, just as you said I would," he added; "All I want is to carry your plan to completion." He figured that, when considering the kind of man he was dealing with, a bit of light ego-stroking couldn't possibly go amiss.
   Joseph smiled with genuine joy -- or, at least, a close facsimile thereof; Mr Frog wasn't sure. So much about this man seemed like a façade -- a carefully-constructed sham to lure prey in. Joseph clapped quietly. "I'm delighted to hear that you've seen the light, Mr Frog!" he said brightly; he turned to the left and fiddled with something offscreen. "Mr Frog's on board," he called out; "Send an extraction team to pick him up. I'm sending the coordinates over now."
   Joseph turned his attention back to Mr Frog, still smiling. "I'm certain you'll find our facilities to be more than up to your standards, Mr Frog," he said; "You will not regret this. A team will come and pick you up shortly. We'll discuss things in more detail once you're secure." He looked down and moved his hand towards something immediately below the screen, and immediately afterwards was replaced by a pale blue background with "CALL TERMINATED" printed on it in white.