I think you have done something really cool here, and would be happy to get you help if you need it.

Thanks, Alexander. I appreciate the support.

I'll try to get this thing going.

 
Tessa, did you keep a copy of this comment? Because somehow, I think the whole text other than the sentence above got accidentally deleted. I'm so very, very sorry. I don't think it was anythinig I did. But it was so long. I hope you have a copy and can resubmit it. Or maybe it posted itself and is live?

Admin

Hi! I am Mina and I am a cat, and I can help as a strategist. I am very good at this, for I think things through carefully. 

And any other way I can be of service to you, I will help you with that, also. 

I am happy to help you plan anything. I really am not interested in fighting. I have only fought once, and that was to free my bats from BIG. I always just follow my bats to command them. I think that we need to start figuring out some of the mysteries of Kyngdom. If you gave me any and every information you get from prisoners, I will give you everything I find out. I think we need to step away from the action and start thinking.

I made a new RP thread for people to turn in information. I would like to challenge you all to try to figure something out from it. It is posted under Animals for the author.

Okay, let's try this again.

Here is my, Tessa Silverleaf's, story back in Minktropolis:

I storm through the
bright white hallways, lit generously with LED tubes set into the white ceiling
tile.  I take a sharp left turn at the
next intersection and run right into Kathy Okreen, a white ermine, to match the
rest of the facility.  The new head
secretary.  She starts and her eyes get
wider than they already are.

                        “Oh!”
she blurts out. “I’m so sorry! I just—so sorry—I, I—!”

                        “Move!”
I growl, pushing her aside with my shoulder. I have other things to deal with.  I march
briskly down yet another identical corridor, this one lined with rows of thick
wooden doors with brass plaques, emblazoned with the owner of the door’s name,
the room number, and their department.

                        Reginald Garring, 14,
CONTAINMENT MANAGER: FL. -2

                I
throw open the door and let it bang shut behind me, making sure to pull my tail
in first.  I learned that one the hard
way.  Garring sits behind his mahogany
desk, papers strewn all over it and his lap, sleeping.  His head
carelessly flopped on the desktop, a stack of inmate personal files as his
pillow. 

                        Sleeping. On the job. Something keeps me
from being surprised.

                        “Garring!”
I shout. He doesn’t even twitch.

                        I
huff and pick up a glass paperweight and throw it at his head. The stupid
weasel finally wakes up, jerking to attention. He seems surprised that I’m
here. He probably doesn’t even know why. He slept through all of the alerts.

                        “Miss!
I’m sorry. I just got a little distracted. May I help you?” he says, feigning
professionalism.

                        “Actually,
yes,” I say calmly. “I’d like for you to get your lazy head back on your stupid
shoulders and pay attention for once!  Do you even realize why I’m here? Can you
deduce the reason for your very busy
commander in chief coming to personally chastise you?”

                        Understanding
spreads over his face like ink on fabric.

                        “Oh
. . .” he murmurs softly.

                        “Oh,” I mimic him. He stares at his paws
in his lap and bites his lip.

                        “Sorry,
Miss.”

                        “Sorry isn’t good enough, Garring!” I say,
exasperated. “This is the third time this week
that we’ve had a break on your watch!
We can’t keep doing this! I know that this difficult for you, but you have to try.”

                        “I
am trying, Miss.”

                        “Try
harder. I owed you the favor once.”

                        He
tries to interrupt.

                        “Once,” say again. “That does not mean that you are an exception to
the rules. You fail, you’re fired. There is no room for mistakes.”

                        He
hangs his head. “If . . . maybe . . . Maybe if I just had one last—”

                        “No,
Garring. That was your last chance.”

                        I
leave the room more quietly than I had come. I don’t want to make him any more
distressed. I hear the first sobs emanating from behind his closed door. I sigh
to myself.

                        That’s
what all of the Kyngdom is going to be soon. What with B.I.G. advancing in
their research so quickly. A pathetic collection of sobs behind closed and
locked doors.

Lucy may be doc years old, but she's a genius. She's in.

Well. That is a load of lies. B.I.G. simply wants to improve the world. Not destroy it. But sometimes, we want to see the possibilities that we can achieve through you animals. The only reason some animals do not surivive the experiements is because they are too weak. And isn't it btter if we get rid of the weak world?

This is all a misunderstanding. Come to terms with us, and you will be much happier and less tragedy will result.  

Sincereley,

Janelle Parseli

Brazen Inquiry Guild

Department of Animal Experimentation