It was always the same story: an ordinary day, followed by a deep sleep, dreamless save for a warm, inviting light, whispering against their skin. And then they woke up to find themselves stolen from their world, from everything they knew, as they tried to make sense of this strange new land.
The start of this story is no different. One by one, consciousness reclaimed the group of newcomers. A zephyr rattled the branches of flowering trees that lined the field they'd landed in. Dawn was breaking through faraway rocky peaks, setting the world aflame in a warm, golden glow. To the east of the field flowed hearty river, and beyond that lay a forest, and if they squinted through the morning haze, the outline of a small town nestled at the foot of the jagged mountains.
On the opposite side of the field, however, there was an entirely different sight. A short distance away, there was a figure, its image flickering like a candle's flame. It was the same shape as a person โ except for the way its shoulders lead into four arms except for two, and how instead of legs, its lower half led into a single point, balancing on the ground. Instead of skin and bone, it seemed to be made entirely of fire. The ground underneath it was scorched black.
Bright, fiery eyes gazed at the newcomers. It was still but for the way its outline danced in the wind.
Stand on stranger sands, and behold the alien flow of the worldly waters.
It's to be expected that rampant unfamiliarities rob you of sensible process.
So the first thing Clifford did upon waking was thrash about, darting his half-operable vision left and right, towards these unknown lands and these unknown people. The striking beauty of it all completely passed over him as the question raced frantically in his head of where the hell he was.
Was it a mere dream? No. No, it felt too real. His dreams were never this lucid. No one's truly were.
Clifford distanced himself some from the rest of the waking group of strangers, assuming the worst of them immediately. His one functional eye continued to dart around until it happened upon the flaming being nearing the group from one side of the surrounding field.
Again. Rampant unfamiliarities, loss of sensible action.
The problem with camping is waking up with the sun; the benefit is seeing the sun filter through the trees while you start your day with a cigarette.
Still bleary-eyed, Margareth retrieved a cigarette and lighter from her disheveled pockets and set the paper cylinder between her teeth as she sat up. She fumbled a few times trying to operate the lighter, and when she had it working, held it to the end of her cigarette. That's when she noticed that the trees did not look anything like they had just a few hours ago. The sun did not filter romantically into the grassy clearing where she had fallen asleep. Actually, the trees were barren and looked like they had been that way for a while. Somewhat shaken, Margareth closed her eyes and inhaled. Unfortunately, when she looked again, the scene before her had not changed.
"Uh." She took the cigarette from her mouth and held it between her index and middle fingers. "Am I... possessing... a spirit?"
That conclusion seemed reasonable. Margareth knew well that modern society was cancerous to the spirit and therefore could also be forcing the spiritual world into a wintry, barren state. However, last night she had not been trying especially hard to reach the spiritual realms; she had been hiking to get in touch with her own spirit. Maybe you don't get here through trying... but I must have broken through somehow...
Regardless, it would be foolish to assume that she would be permitted to stay in this new place longer than a few moments. Margareth took a long moment to observe the scenery around her. The craggy cliffs loomed in the distance, and she wished she could get a photo for her blog - but, obviously, cameras and smartphones don't work in the spirit realms.
And then she turned, and saw something else.
A spirit.
A powerful, angry spirit, made of fire and fury.
It could not possibly be anything else.
And Margareth knew what she had to do. There was no acceptable course of action except to light incense to appease and connect with this spirit, which had clearly called her to this place for a certain purpose.
Hurriedly, Margareth put out her cigarette in the dirt. She left it there, and stood quickly, looking around frantically for something appropriate to burn. This is the point when she noticed the other people lying around her - and one who had already begun running from his true purpose and calling.
"Wait!" She called after him, somewhat frantically. "You have to come back!"
This was obviously important to the angry spirit. Margareth ran after him.
Sound assaulted Morgan's ears, and he shook his head to try to clear it. The sun above was blinding, even through his closed eyelids. The inside of his head still rang and his chest and back hurt from the earlier impact. But he had to get up, and take up sword and shield! The contest would not wait for him to recover.
When Morgan rolled to his side and opened his eyes however, it was not the sand of the jousting field he beheld through the visor of his helmet. Despite the weight of his platemail and the chain hauberk beneath, Morgan pushed himself into a kneeling position in time to note the two figures running off. Before he looked about more, however, he shed the heavy helm and pushed back the padded hood beneath. Forcing himself to stand, Morgan finally took in the others slowly coming to their senses about him and the fiery figure in the distance. Confusion distorted his thoughts at the scene, and his hand drew his broadsword before his mind bade it to do so.
"What new Hell is this?" Morgan whispers under his breath, thinking that he assuredly must have been struck fatally in the joust. Only two minor dents could be found in his armor however, one in the breastplate and one on the side of his helmet. No blood flowed from him, but that could easily be a trick of this afterlife. Turning at last to the flaming figure, Morgan started toward it with a determined stride. So far, it was the only thing he could see clearly native to this place, as the strangers around him wore a motley of clothing and equipment. Even if it destroyed him, it would answer at least one thing about this place.
For the first time in at least three years, Robyn was in a deep sleep. One of the last things she would remember seeing before falling into it was either the night sky above her, sometimes crowded by red clouds darkened enough to blend with the night, or the campfire that was surrounded by the rest of her group that she survived with. Well, more like currently surviving.
Drowsily stirring, Robyn could feel the morning sun on her face easily. It felt like something she hadn't felt in a really long time. Probably not as long as she thinks, but still. Robyn gave out a tired exhale and wiped her face after slowly blinking her eyes open with her first sight being the sky itself as she lied there on the ground. That's weird. Something about the sky looked different. As obvious as it was, Robyn still had some waking up to do in order to connect the dots. Her attention was slowly caught by the sounds going around and about. Robyn turned her head to the side, expecting to see what would be a burnt out campfire and a little beyond that. Just what was the group going on about this ti--
That's...That's not the campfire. Well, there wasn't any campfire. Instead there was...unfamiliar people.
"What the f-?!" Robyn almost cussed under her breath as she shot up from the ground, sitting up before getting on her feet in a crouching position and her gaze flashing in all directions and her arms slightly up on guard. At this point Robyn's survival instincts were kicked in, and just like that she was wide awake. A proper reaction for Robyn when you're surrounded by strangers. Especially, strangers. But it wasn't just the people around her that were unfamiliar; the setting itself was, too. The first thing Robyn actually took a moment to look at were the two people dashing off, towards wherever that may be. Then Robyn glanced at the others who were still gaining their consciousness and then looked towards the one in shiny armor who was going towards...some fiery thing...?
Staring at the flaming character for several moments Robyn slowly stood up straight. She kept her arms up until she was standing, but she made sure she was mentally on guard even with her hands to her sides. Her eyes squinted at the flaming character as she took barely half a step towards it, "The hell...?" she mumbled to herself before rubbing her eyes. Was she seeing things? Nope. Still there. Robyn briefly thought to herself before she suddenly tugged her thick glove off her hand and pinched herself hard on the neck. Ow. Ok. Not a dream. Robyn frustratingly but gently threw her hands down. Now all that Robyn could do was look at the flaming character since that was the only thing to look at other than the surroundings around her that she glanced at from time to time.
I slowly opened my eyes, a bright light above me. Even so, it took me a while to wake up fully. Wait... this wasn't home, my bed isn't this soft, there aren't any lights in my room, and I certainly wouldn't be waking up this slowly without being shaken up. I opened my eyes fully. Around me was... something. It was bright, colourful, and weird. It was all a weird material, it looked natural, but nothing like the desert. Looking around, there were a bunch of people around, all in odd clothes. Two were running away, another in metal armour was going towards, a humanoid fire. "What in the world?" I muttered. I hit myself hard. "Not a dream then, although, how could it be, I've never seen this... stuff." I then got up and walked to someone who seems to be awake. "Do you know what on Earth is going on here?" I asked, keeping my rifle within easy reach just in case.
Valencia Tempest The Quick-witted Pirate with a Gentle Heart
*****
Valencia stirred slightly before fully regaining consciousness. The last thing she remembered was using all of her strength to help keep that scoundrel Barringtonโs cursed ship afloat as it crashed through the stormy waves of an unexpected hurricane. Valencia had warned him that there was a storm on the wind, but no; heโd insisted on setting sail for the Isle of the Setting Sun in search of treasure with no more to go on than the word of an unsavory islander theyโd met in a tavern.
The first thing she felt was dirt beneath her hands. Valencia took a deep breath, moving slowly to ensure that no bones were broken. All seemed well, so she opened her eyes and sat up, surveying the area around her. She was clearly shipwrecked. Valencia expected to see a sandy island or the shore of one of the bodies of land that had lain between her journeyโs starting point and the Isle, but her surroundings were completely unfamiliar. Beautiful though it was, this strange place seemed to be a field of sorts, surrounded by sparse trees, with an array of mountains in the distance and a far-off forest.
The most unsettling thing was that the nearest body of water was a river. Last sheโd checked, Valencia had been in the middle of an ocean. There were no rivers around for leagues. And how did she come to be in the midst of a field, nowhere near a shore or the ocean?
โWhat in blazesโฆโ Valencia muttered to herself. She heard distant voices, and leapt to her feet, drawing her cutlass with her right hand in a single movement. She turned in the direction she'd heard the voices coming from. Nearby lay a strange assortment of people sheโd never seen before; all of whom were dressed differently than each other and seemed rather out of place amid this grassy field. It was as though they had all been dumped there with no rhyme or reason. Some were still unconscious.
In the distance, Valencia could see the figure of a man who was running away, and a more feminine figure in his pursuit. In the opposite direction stood a well-built man in full plated armor, and beyond him floated an ethereal creature wreathed in flames and darkness. Valencia felt her heart hammer into her throat. Iโll be damned, she thought to herself. A true and real creature of the supernatural. Perhaps I met my fate beneath the waves, and this be Davy Jonesโ locker. She eyed the spirit warily, but it seemed to be remaining stationary, for the time being. Nearest to Valencia stood a girl clothed in strange garb who seemed to be just a few years younger than herself. The girl had one of her gloves off and was staring at the fire-spirit with wide eyes.
Valenciaโs palms were sweating, but she pushed aside her fear and gripped her cutlass, prepared to use it if need be. She made sure to keep an eye on the creature and the knight, but she turned her attention to the other girl who was conscious. โYou, there,โ she called to her. โWhat do you know of this strange place? Speak quickly. I will mean you no harm unless you draw arms against me."
One after the other, blades sang free of their scabbards. The too-familiar screech of steel pulled Arvyria back to her senses immediately, and she staggered back before she even realized she was on her leaden feet. All around her, strangers muttered and shouted and interjected in a language she'd never heard before; keeping her momentum, she strafed further from the group toward a forest she'd only just noticed. She chambered her armored right arm in front of her face like a raised shield, peeking over her bicep to keep the entire group in her field of vision. She'd already heard the waking cry of two swords -- she scanned the group for other weapons. A knight's sword and a foreign, curved blade stood out most readily, but she didn't come all this way just to die of oversight.
...As her pulse steadied, she remembered just how far she'd come: she'd fallen asleep inside a guard post. For an instant, she wondered if the building had vanished from around her, but it was more than that: none of this terrain looked the least bit familiar. As such: however she'd arrived here, from black midnight until sunrise, these strangers had clearly not harmed her. In fact, none of them paid her any mind. Gradually, their heads turned away from her, toward the horizon.
Blinking her bleary eyes, she suddenly realized the figure at the edge of her vision wasn't the rising sun after all. It had too many arms. Brilliant though the creature's aura was, she couldn't help but gaze directly at it. Whatever spirit or fae this might be, she knew even less about it than she did her...captors? Companions? Mortal fascination could not outrun her fear and unease.
A man -- braver than her, thanks surely to the sword in his hand -- broke from the group and made his way toward the creature. Her eyes darted between the rolling flame and the glint of light on steel, desperate to see where they fit in the puzzle.
Whoever was yelling that to Cliff was out of their mind. He had no intention of waiting to be burned to a crisp by something that, in all his years of experiences in a myriad of sordid battlefields, definitely looked hostile to him. He didn't even bother to acknowledge the fact that he could be wrong. He was too focused on moving forward, figuring out where he was, how to get back, just so many thoughts at once.
He didn't notice something move ever so slightly on the ground ahead of him as he ascended up a low hill. Something, or someone, very much alive. He'd taken one quick look back to see who was chasing him, and suddenly, he was falling forward down the knotted hill.
Rolling. Plenty of it. Clifford came to an abrupt stop after he hit a root jutting from the ground, bruising his shoulder, landing on the sun-lit grass at the base of the hill. Dirt and grass stains covered his white shirt and sweatpants, and not having any shoes wasn't helping his feet stay comfortable.
He lay there for nary a moment before his head rose up. His vision blurry, he looked around, trying to get a feel for his surroundings. All there was were more grass and trees, mountains in the distance. He didn't even pick a proper direction as he stood up and continued forward, clutching his shoulder with his good hand.
Cronus stared shocked at the Human, he doesn't know how he should react to this, should he be happy? for that he is no longer is alone? or should he be cautious? but before he could decide. the screech and clanking of metal against metal filled his ears thanks to several of the strangers drew their weapons, and pointed them at a fiery being
'An A.I?' was the first thing that popped into his head as he studied the godly being, for it reminded him of the A.Is that had adopted earth after the humans had abandoned it in favor of the stars. 'so could this just be part of some horrid simulation' it wasn't out of the question, Cronus has had the unfortunate encounters with a particularly sadistic who called herself D.A.I.S.Y and she loved to mess with his head by placing him simulations that supposedly mimicked human society (in the same way that a grape mimics a dog)
and today he wasn't particularly in the mood to be fooled. so Cronus walked towards the A.I and he stopped just beside the knight then reached up to his mask and flipped a switch, the sound of static briefly filled the air. "D.A.I.S.Y" Cronus said as he drew his shotgun "can you just let me go?" as much as he hated this particular A.I, he knew she would release him faster if he was polite "i know this is a simulation so just lets me out already" he ordered the supposed A.I
The flaming creature looked at the knight, tilting its head to the side. His threatening, determined air seemed to have no effect on it as it just glanced down at the sword in his hand and then back up to his face. When he was joined by another, more bizarre-looking man, the creature had the same reaction. But then it moved.
Quick as a blink, it leaned in close to Morgan, its body crackling and hot, blazing air crisping the skin on his face. It looked back at Cronus, leaning in towards him as well, though he was mostly protected from the heat under his layers. The creature drew back and put two hands on its hips. In quick, darting motions, it moved around the two men to stand in the center of the group. The ground seared and crackled underneath it, the grass blackening in a trail of ash. The fiery being turned in a circle, taking in everyone, and then looked up to glance at the two figures growing smaller in the distance. Lifting two of its hands in front of its face, it raised one finger after another, until it had counted off nine. Its third hand rested on its hip, while the fourth scratched the top of its head. It raised its eyes to look at the motley group again.
In a whirlwind of fire, the creature's form whipped around, flames dancing in the air. Its body disappeared in the wind, leaving nothing but dry air and scorched earth in its wake.
Not only was the something that Clifford tripped over very much alive, it was also very angry. That usually happened when you were rudely awakened from a nap by being violently run over. Four slitted golden eyes snapped open and a surprised yowl could be heard. The beast shot up, landing on all fours, and turned, searching for the offending party. It didn't see Clifford rolling far below. Instead, it found Margareth. It straightened up to its full height, narrowing its eyes.
For the most part, it looked like an enormous lion, the size of a horse. Two twisting black horns sprouted from its head. A pair of sandy brown wings sprouted from its back, and stretched out in a show of size, blocking out the sun. Its front legs were thick and powerful with coiled muscle, long, blade-like talons curving out, while its hind legs ended in a pair of hooves. Its tail curled around the side and to the front. Golden fur turned into slick emerald scales, and at the end was a cobra's hissing head. The snake opened its jaw wide, revealing long fangs and an electric blue tongue, as its hood stretched out.
Both heads glared down at Margareth. Then the lion opened its jaws and released a roar like thunder.
Clifford was already up and running again when the beast let out its roar. His frantic pace was putting more and more distance between him and the chaos behind him. The rocky plane gave way to a sparse forest not a hundred yards away, leafless trees clumped together so tightly, navigating it would be a challenge. There were no signs of life aside from the chaos behind him and the world's flora.
That is, until a small whirlwind of fire whipped up several feet in front of him. The same fiery being he'd run from spun into existence, holding up all four hands in Clifford's direction in an attempt to slow him.
The swirling, fiery form barely moved as Morgan approached, causing the knight to frown slightly. Perhaps he wouldn't learn anything from this venture after all.
Then the being moved, and with all the speed of lightning. Suddenly confronted with the visage of the fiery monster Morgan flinched back, bringing his armored left arm up between him and it. The being made no violent move toward him however, and indeed seemed just as confused as the rest of them. Morgan's eyes followed it as it circled him and another man, and then the rest of the group behind him. After one last look, the form vanished amid swirling flames and scorched earth.
Questions largely unanswered, Morgan lets the tip of his sword sink toward the ground as he too turns his attention to those around him. Several of them he had no way to identify, as their clothes and equipment were foreign to him. In fact, only one person's origin was clear to him. Curved steel in hand, a seafarer seemed to be accosting one of the other strangers.
"It seems fate has played a cruel joke on us all..." Morgan says out loud, but to himself. He knew not if he and the others were among the living or trapped in some dream or spell, but it seemed that they were stuck with it, for the time being.
Running through the rainy dark streets occasionally looking back to see if they were still tailing him. And to no surprise...they were still tailing him. Having noticed that he noticed that they were tailing him, they also broke into a sprint now chasing him.
The plan that Bishop had thought was simple; get the ancient dagger recently discovered in some very old ruin(speaking about millennia old here), traffic it to another country where one of his hideouts were located and... well, and then study it. The dagger was said to have spiritual properties and whoever or whatever thing was stricken with this knife, its soul would suffer too. The handle rumoured to have a teleportation device implanted, one method of activation required certain words or rather combination of sounds(don't get any weird ideas) to be spoken/pronounced. That's why he had been studying ancient scrolls and tomes for months now. 1-2 years ago the thought of talking to a/doing stranger/unnecessary things had never crossed his mind. Now he was doing all sorts of adrenaline-pumping things because one day he just woke up with a raging curiosity that ushered him to steal ancient artifacts and learn their secrets.
Somehow Bishop was now jumping rooftops to lose the ones chasing him. You could say that this situations would resemble certain movies scenes except the fact that the distance roof to roof was smaller than a meter and they were all almost the same level. Anyway, at one point it seemed he got rid of them. One other quick look back to confirm it, lead to a misplaced step, leading to falling of the roof. Losing the grip of the ancient dagger during the fall, he tried desperately to get his hands on it again although pointless as he was falling to his by-the-second approaching demise. The last cm before he touched the ground he reached for the dagger and felt time come to a pause after just touching it. Then a feeling of unease took over as everything around him started warping, or was it HE was warping?(yeah thing about that).
The end result being that he found himself in a different world from where he once was. Different terrain, climate, stars. He had a good look of the horizon as he was teleported 7 meters up from the ground when entering this world. Was falling, still is. Luckily he was falling to a conveniently placed tree. -"That's gotta smooth the fall a little"-were his thoughts. Yeeeaaah...no. It hurt like hell. Getting up, checking for any broken bones, any internal pain that he might feel, everything seemed ok except for a few minor bruises. More adrenaline rushing in at the thought of a whole new world to explore. Then he came across people laying in the ground, one mutant looking person was just regaining consciousness. Just when he was about to greet him and ask him of what he knew about this world something hit him in the back of the head and Bishop fell dead cold in the ground.
Waking up he felt a hard heavy object lying on the back of his head. Extending a hand to grab it, no way, it was the dagger that must've hit him. Like how in the... He then heard people arguing and saw that guy he was just about to say hello to running off somewhere followed by a girl. The 3 people discussing were 2 girls and a guy with a rifle, some other lunatic was talking to himself while approaching what seemed like
?..no wait it was more like a flaming
, on closer inspection it looked like a combination of skinny Goro and
, another guy wearing armor was approaching the flaming creature while some other girl was "sneaking" into the woods.
Deciding that the best option was to consult with the present people on our location, predicament and why were people dispersing into the unknown without meeting everyone else? As much as for the flaming Goro atronach, Bishop would just wait and see on what would happen to the people approaching it.
As the swordsman closed the gap toward the pillar of fire, Arvyria awaited the defining moment: was the creature friendly or hungry?
As Arvyria waited, a more pressing issue arose. A great, rumbling voice shook the ground beneath her feet, and from much, much closer. Whipping around to the side, she watched a mass of claws and wings unfurl itself before the slight form of a redheaded woman, unarmed and unprepared.
"<Get back!>" She dashed along the forest path, heart pounding with sympathy for the unarmed woman. That had been her, not so long ago: stranded domesticity, frozen against the wild violence of a world she'd never dreamed of confronting. The clank and creak of her armor with each step reminded her that she'd been given a second chance -- and third, fourth, fifth. As the creature drew itself up to full, tremendous stature, some part of her shouted back to herself, Run! Run away, now! Tears in her eyes, she imagined what the redhead must be thinking -- that fear spurred her faster, closer to the rising monster.
Self-preservation be damned, Arvyria threw her armored self between the two figures and stood her ground, wondering what the hell to do from here. @bcc
Clifford lurched back as the fiery being from before materialized before him, tossing up his arm, instinctively shielding himself from the bright of the flames. It held up its four arms, making it very much clear that he was not allowed to go any further.
Clifford turned to his right and, foolishly, attempted to run from the creature again. Its wispy tail of fire glided along the grass below as it strafed around him, again holding up its four hands, barring his passage.
He turned again, and the process repeated. And again, except, the third time, the being merely observed as Clifford ascended back up the hill he'd taken a tumble down before, closing the distance when it grew too agape.
Clifford slowly realized what was going on. This thing wasn't intending on killing him. It was leading him back to where he started. Corralling him like some kind of sheep lost from the herd.
He continued to search for some way, any way to escape the being, as he was slowly led up the hill.
There was a roar. Loud, piercing. He stopped, but the flaming being had him continue his pace.
Cronus waited for answer from the A.I but he would get no answers from the spirit as it teleported from the knight over to him, his mask was met with intense heat that singed the tip of his hood, so he took a step back and quickly placed his shotgun between himself and the strange being.
it circled around him just as it did the knight, then it moved back and circled the entire group, Cronus didn't let it leave his sight for a second he kept his shotgun trained on it, in case it were to attack but no battle where to take place at the moment, for it vanished into thin air as if it never was there to been to begin with. so with spirit gone Cronus lowered his shotgun letting it hang from its strap
'That couldn't have an A.I' he thought as he looked over the burned grass that spirit had left behind, he lowered his hood thanks to the sudden heat shift finally reaching him, this allowed his long red hair to hang loose, "It seems fate has played a cruel joke on us all..." Cronus looked over to the knight and mulled over his question for his encounter with spirit had convinced him that this was no mere simulation, "It would seem so sir knight"
"I will mean you no harm unless you draw arms against me.โ Those words caught Caleb's attention. She had just threatened someone here. I'm an absolute idiot he thought, before taking his rifle off his shoulder. "Give me one reason not to blow your head off after that threat, bandit." he said, aiming at the side of her head at point blank range. He'd completely forgotten about the flaming person thing in the background for the moment. "And trust me, this rifle could hit you before you could so much as start to get to cover."
Robyn finally blinked before turning her body halfway towards a woman voice calling out that seemed to be directed towards her. Shortly after listening to what she had to say Robyn considered raising a brow and putting her hand near either the pistol holstered on her side or the pump-action shotgun sheathed on her back out of instinct, but thinking too quickly has gotten her in worse troubles before so she quickly decided against it before she could move. Robyn replayed the woman's words in her head carefully and only eased by a smidge.
Robyn looked at the woman from bottom to top in observation. Was...Was she dressed like a pirate? Or something of the sort? Robyn blinked as a substitution for shaking her head; this wasn't the time to mainly think about the way people are dressed. Although, as Robyn took a glance at the others around her it did seem like people were dressed...differently now that she thought about it. 'Weird' would only be a tad bit of an exaggeration. And if Robyn was ambushed and/or kidnapped, these people didn't do it. Robyn glanced at the man, the one who had asked a similar question to the pirate woman's earlier, as he suddenly drew his rifle on the pirate woman. Oh god dang it. Instinct took over Robyn one more time before walking beside him and gently lowered his rifle with her hand to show calm, "Easy..." Although her tone was vague it could probably be told that Robyn didn't want any trouble. It just seemed pointless for the time being. Robyn's gaze finally returned to the pirate woman; so much for speaking quickly.
"Just as much as you do," Robyn started to answer and took the glove she had taken off earlier and quickly snugged it back on her hand, flexing it as it was put back on before shrugging. "Nothin'." Robyn's hands simultaneously patted on her legs at the end of her quick shrug before hanging loose by her sides. Robyn only partly payed attention to the flaming character of whatever it was doing or had done as it was more somewhat in the back of her mind for now.
Well for starters... I had to find another spot to stay/sit/rest at because my previous one got burned to the ground by that flaming goro atronach. Noticing blood in his hands, and blood in the dagger Bishop got pale. Frantically searching for the cut/wound but to no avail UNTIL...his eye caught a medium cut located in his elbow."That damned flaming goro with his flaming tricks"-he thought. Seeing the 3 people arguing about something he decided to approach them while saying:"Hi all, my name is Bishop, nice to meet you. I would like to talk about my life history and why I quit alcoh...just joking.Hehe. Anyway would you be so kind as to tell me your names and any information you might know about this place? And what was the last thing you remember doing before you got here, that might help us solve the mystery to this world." @LizLegend@jordy0403@ariplotter
Valencia Tempest The Quick-witted Pirate with a Gentle Heart
*****
Valenciaโs dark green eyes narrowed as she silently studied the two strangers before her; especially the man who had just raised a gun against her. The air was filled with tension so thick that she could have sliced it with her blade.
โI spoke no threat; I asked a query. And I am no bandit,โ she said tersely, analyzing his stance. He spoke trulyโthe most she could do if he fired upon her would be to dive to the side; and even then, a bullet would surely find its mark somewhere on her person. โI find myself in unfamiliar territory with no recollection of how I came to be here; surrounded by people whose intentions I have no way of knowing. Forgive me for drawing my blade for protection,โ she added wryly. โOr perhaps you made no notice of the ethereal being of flames that potentially threatens us all?โ Valencia jerked her head towards the fire-spirit.
Lowering her cutlass only slightly, she raised her eyebrows at the man, waiting for him to make a move. Keeping her gaze fixed upon him, she spoke to the girl, who had replied to her in a much less threatening tone than the man. โI wonโt harm you, missy. Nor will I attack you, gunman,โ she said to the one who still had his firearm ready to be aimed at her. โIt would seem that we all have similar questions.โ Faintly, she heard another person address herself and the two she was already with. โโฆwould you be so kind as to tell me your names and any information you might know about this place? And what was the last thing you remember doing before you got here,โ he was saying. But Valenciaโs attention was suddenly diverted as the fire-creature moved impossibly fast, first approaching the armored knight, and then facing the man who stood with him. In an instant, the spirit disappeared. Valencia blinked, to ensure she had indeed seen that. Now that the flaming being was gone, she whipped her head back around, cursing inwardly for taking her eyes off the barrel of the gun.
