From: Cat-Gonk ( Subject: [PW!] Brief Return Newsgroups: Date: 2000/05/25 The figure lay on his back, eyes staring up into the sparkling, glimmering cloud-like shapes of the silk cloth atop the four-poster bed in which he was residing. Remarkable, the matress had not given way under the weight of his incredibly heavy armour, its springs holding up against what was otherwise an irresistable force. "Meeeeeeeh...." [PW!] Brief Return By Cat-Gonk His feet were exposed, their armoured coverings neatly placed side-by- side at the foot of the bed. The skin revealed was a pale white, almost purple, to match his face. The figure's hands were equally bared, a simply-crafted silver ring with a wave-pattern forming its band on his skeletal, alien fingers. Another hand toyed with the ornament, before removing it and placing it on the bedside table. "Short posts tend to get more attention than the longer ones," spoke the figure to no-one and everyone around him. He'd been told that the size of the fruits of his productivity was often off-putting to the casual reader, as were the frequent shifts in viewpoint. His latest work would be comparatively short and remain fixed on the one character, and the one point in time. Sadly, a lack of acknowledgement was becoming all-too-usual an occurence for him, recent discourses on strategy had gone unnoticed in all his haunts despite himself believing to be owed a debt of gratitude to those he himself had acknowledged and assisted. Yet there was still silence, a silence to accompany the tranquil setting of the figure's lair. The behind-the-head headphones he currently used tended to bring discomfort to the ears, and were unsuitable for use while on one's back, so they remained unused. The room's speakers were disconnected for some reason he'd recently forgotten, and the portable units used for blasting out music when in battle were not attached to his armour. With a yawn, the figure outstretched his arms in relaxation, and he sat up in bed to reach for a clipboard nearby. His laptop lay with the rest of his holstered items in a glass cabinet, where it had been for the better part of a week. "Felix needs a post, hmm, maybe some interaction," said the figure as a pen materialised in his hands and darted across the page. "If only people actually knew where Hellion Town was, that's the problem with made-up towns. No-one bothers to visit them." He made a mental note to examine the next location published in the fictional realm he worked in, while considering his other options. "Kirsty's doing fine, if the rest of them don't post by next week I'll have Night Shade come in." After he spoke the last name, the figure felt somewhat alone, there had been almost no recognition of his latest creation within the authorial community. Yet he knew that someone, somewhere was reading, as did all his comrades. One recent attempt of his to send feedback had been foiled by a faulty connection in the MegaSound Chair, though he had not attempted to re-send due to sloth he hoped AswanJaguar and Foratog would not miss his regards. The latter had been commended, albeit slowly, for his most recent work, perhaps his brief work as a "professional" critic had paid off after all. "Samuraichu, eh, I'll think of something." Unclipping the page, the man examined it one last time. "Tick, he'll be back for GS." It was at that point that the figure began to remember another from the past, one who had attempted to make up for his lack of readers with excessive self-spotlighting and egotism. "Meeh, no-one's going to hate me for this." And with that, he signed off the sheet of paper. The second his signature's final flourish lay enscribed on the page, it glew purple and vanished into the ether. Resuming his previous state of spawl, the figure was again staring into the ceiling. "Reply, god damn you..."