It was a beautiful day, one that poets and singers will write about for eons to come. The soft chirp of bird filled the cool summer air and it so peaceful and quiet you can hear the morning dew slip off of a leaf and land on the moist grass. The smell of summer is in the air on this fine day, the sun shone brightly in the sky, over the tree tops- wait tree tops.
"Where am I?" A groggy voice calls out, a man seeming to look in his mid-twenties calls out as he looks up towards the sky. "What happened!?"
His cry goes unanswered however as grabs at his hair, his mind unable to totally accept the situation had just found himself in. Taking a glance around he sees that he is in the middle of a forest clearing. His dress shirt clung to him, wet form the morning dew, a shiver ran down his spine either from the cold or the situation he wasn't quite sure.
Taking a unstable step up, the man winced as he looked upwards only for the sun to attack his eyes. As he raises his hand to protect his sensitive eyes he freezes, on the back of his hand was tattooed was the number "3". What was the oddest part about the tattoo however, aside from the fact that the man had no recollection of getting it at all, was that every once in while it would pulse a bright blue.
The man started at, frozen in shock, and the number began to pulse quicker and quicker. As the pulsing increased the man's panic rose and he began to desperately claw at the tattoo.
"What is this!? WHAT"S GOING ON!?" Screaming at nothing the man began to draw blood from his hand as his scathing grew stronger and stronger. A twig snapped and the man froze. A minute passed before the man let out a deep breath. The tattoo on his hand had returned to a slow pulse. Wiping his forehead with the back of his hand the man smacked himself when he realized he had just rubbed blood all over his forehead.
The man shook his head before smiling wryly, "What am I-" He was cut off however, when he heard a small "TWANG" and suddenly the man looked down towards his chest to see an arrowhead sticking out his chest. "That's not right."
"Screw you! That was right through the heart!"
"Then why is he still alive?"
The man turned around to see two small children, one with a bow in hand while the other was writing in a large leather bound book with a feather. The man opened his mouth to speak, but instead of words, blood came pouring out his mouth and onto the floor.
Chapter 1: Rude Awakening
I would love to know what's is going on here.It was a beautiful sunny summer day, one that poets and singers will- are you getting a deju-vu feeling too? Anyways, there were birds and dewdrops and all that jazz, of course none of this really mattered to you when you woke up because well you have no clue where the heck you are. In fact you don't even really remember much of last night either now that you think about it. It's all one giant haze, where bits and pieces and disconnected but you do have one clear memory.
A voice. A voice that told you something. Now this something you've been told you're not quite sure if you want to share, but you do know that it's important. Anyways what's more important is the fact that you've just woken up face on the ground with nine or so other people around you all equally confused.
Well then let's see what you do.