Well well well. Look who just cracked the code.

T.C.P =       ( Rr ÷ M x hM ) x 24 
                __________________    x   C.G 
                                  2 

I just wish I could remember what it meant. Would anyone from the red team like to pick my brains. I really can make you rich. Maybe. Hopefully.

C'mon give a guy a go! I doubt you'll get a better offer. Two days 2880 coins or more.
 

[ooc: An idea I came up with a few moments ago. Modly mods don't worry I did my maths ^^ Im more than welcome to share the secret. Although I guess if you use your imagination with Glitch's maths you will already know what I mean. <3]

Lost my journal. Truly was in the last place I looked. But isn't everything though?

I feel like such a troglodyte today. At least what I'd imagine a troglodyte would feel like. Sad really, but to the point.

Anyone here up for some heroic antics? Or maybe someone needs a job done. You know you employer - me employee and all that? No? Yes?

Ok so waking up with a huge splitting head ache and no idea where you are, isn't as fun as it sounds.

I suppose this quaint little castle is mine then? Can't say it isn't in need of some decorating though. But a home is a home is a home is a home is a home is a... Well, you flick the abacus.

“The storm is coming”

He found himself staring into a full length mirror. Keeping his head down, revealing the space between the zipped atop his head, where a brain should be, he almost believed if he couldn’t see himself his situation would disappear.

“The storm is coming”

He looked up unsure of where the voice had originated. Now instead of the crystal clear reflection he was greeted by a woman. Beyond the woman with purple eyes lay a wasteland, barren, shrouded in an unforgiving shadow that lurched forth in search for every visible trace of light. Thunder roared across the cloudy night sky as lightning crashed down somewhere just outside of his line of vision, momentarily lighting the otherwise bleak night.

“Please, you must help her, you must be her rock. Your brain might not be where it was, my dearest Glitch, but you must remember… for me… for her. For the O-Z” The woman pleaded taking his hands in her own, soft, beautiful. He smiled.

Fat drops of rain began hailing down viciously, beating against his cloak. Repelled and unable to absorb in the material they rolled down the cloth, falling to the ground, already forgotten. Then the woman stepped forward, phasing right by without a whisper of a thought. His body shuddered, falling to it’s knees as nausea took hold. The last word he heard were comforting, but edged with no uncertain warning.

“The storm… will come”