Nestled between a small river and the entrance to the Whispering Woods lies the small town of Rosehollow. A quaint locale known for its fragrant rosewood homes and crisp apple pies, Rosehollow has never known anything but peace. That is, until recently.

Every night, right when the moon reaches its zenith, violet fog begins to roll out of the Old Wood, filling the town with thick, billowing clouds carrying enchantments most foul. Those afflicted are cursed to a sleep from which they will not wake. For the 5 months since the fog first appeared, the earliest victims have remained in their deep slumber, deaf to the cries of their mourning families and friends, and ignorant to the enchanted fog that continues to terrorize the town.

The source of this enchanted fog was thought to be the cruel forest witch, Isolda. Living within the deepest reaches of the Old Wood, among poisonous plants and feral beasts, Isolda spreads her terrible power throughout the lands for reasons no person in Rosehollow can understand. Perhaps she has finally grown tired of living in the darkness of her forest kingdom, or perhaps she just wants to snuff out the happiness of the villagers of Rosehollow, as evildoers are known to do. None but the forest witch herself know for sure.

There are those that have left Rosehollow, fleeing the curse, but many still remain. Some refuse to leave the land of their birth, and some simply lack the means; others still remain to stay with their loved ones who are afflicted by Isolda's cruel curse, and there are even those who wish to slay the foul witch, hopefully ending the curse by ending Isolda's life.

These people who remain have sought help. Though they first contacted the capital, Merchant King Tybalt deemed Rosewood too remote, too unimportant to send his personal army. The people of Rosewood then were forced to seek the help of noble adventurers who would lend their aid—with a reward of gold and jewels, of course.

Little did they know, instead of a group of adventurers, a small party of heroes-to-be had answered their plea for help. Or at least were forced to.

---

"Welcome to Arcadia." A soft feminine voice whispered into your ear. Creepy, I know. As you instinctively turned around to see who it was that invaded your personal space; no one was there though. Instead, your surroundings had drastically changed.

You found yourself seated in what looked to be a ewe-drawn wooden wagon. A flimsy, worn-out one at that. As your body was jarred by the rough road, you noticed several others seated around you. All shared the same clueless and confused expression that you had. Well, at least to some degree.

A booming deep and burly voice, with one of the thickest accents you've ever heard, suddenly called your attention.

"Oi! Ya lot okay back derr?!" said the short yet bulky bearded man. His hands were kept tightly wrapped around the reins.

"Make shir ya don't git thrown off now. It'd ruin good'ol Magni's name. I gots me pride as a rider y'know." he turned around, flashing a grin at the young scholars he was escorting to who knows where.

"Can't git injur'd right be'fo we tek on dat blasted old hag!"

With a flick of his wrists, the wagon creaked and shook as the ewe pulling it started to bleat restlessly. "Easy der gurl, easy." Magni reached forward, running his hand across the frightened sheep's neck, slowly calming her down. With eyes squinted, Magni quickly searched the area for whatever caused this whole commotion.

"Goblins! Brace ye selves youngins! Wer'in for e fight!"

Loosening his grip on the reins, Magni pulled out the massive sword from the sheath he wore on his back and leaped into action, recklessly charging forward.

"Ya lot with the witch, eh?! Com at me ya lil green shits!"

Sadly, he was probably going to die.

As confused as they were, the adventurers left on the wagon had little time to put two and two together. A swarm of goblins were heading towards them; they had no choice but to act fast.

OOC: As of now, no one actually has any idea on what's going on. So there's that. Feel free to take any course of action; I'll just work on whatever you decide to do. If you have any questions or anything you wanna clarify, ask away in the OOC.

Before Ryder could even talk or complain, the ill spoken driver darted off leaving him just sitting there jaw hanging, wide eyed and scratching his head. Confused and in shock he stammered together some sounds as he looked around at the others but fumbled and failed to find or utter a single word.

But if there was one thing Ryder could do better than construct a sentence, (well actually there was a lot of things.) it was act. Seeing a familiar confusion on the faces of the others in the wagon Ryder realised that his only hope of answers was disappearing and fast. Without thought or warning his body began acting without command. He leapt out of the wagon and darted after the short man.

"Turn the wagon around! And get that thing ready to go!" He yelled back to the strangers whom he left behind. Not knowing if they heard him or even knew how to steer an ewe. As he pumped his legs running after the sword wielding mad man as fast as he could, Ryder felt a nostalgic comfort as his emotions rolled over. Confusion became frustration, frustration to aggitation, and aggitation to anger. Now this was something he knew, this was something he was comfortable with. This revelation coupled with the adrenalin of surging into the unknown caused a wicked sadistic grin to creep across his delighted face.
He had a purpose, he had a goal. To bring that old man back to the wagon and get some answers out of him.

Theon

"Ugh, where am I?" Is this the promised land? It might be, I see a luminous light shine at the end of the tunnel. I guess this is it then, My day of reckoning has arrived." Theon takes a deep breath and accepted his fate.

He closes his eyes and basked in the light's presence with arms wide open, taking it all in. His feet slowly move to its own accord, moving forward towards the light at the end of the dark tunnel.

"Oh, Lord, I humbly accept what lies beyond this light, may your judgment be merciful and guide my poor wretched soul unto salvation in this final hours" Theon reaches out and a flash of light struck the moment he takes his final step.

"Welcome to Arcadia" An ethereal like feminine voice whisper into his ears, sending chills down his spine, immediately snapping him out from this trance and into reality.

The delusion quickly breaks as Theon opens eyes with his arms still stretched out and find himself in a rickety wooden wagon with a bunch of people seating next to him. His surroundings suddenly change as well into a more rustic environment. Theon was dumbfounded on how or why he got here and immediately tucked away his arms to save himself from embarrassment.

He curled up in his seating position and reaches for silver Rosary around his neck and murmurs a short prayer, seeking guidance from above.

Unfortunately, his prayer was rudely interrupted as the stubby ginger man pulls the reigns to a complete halt and announce that they are in jeopardy and they need to fight off these strange creatures coming straight towards the wagon.

"Excuse me? a fight? what do you mean a fight?" Theon winced with a visibly frightened look on his face. Theon knows he has zero capabilities of physically fighting off these green monsters. "I guess the lord is testing us." He sighed.

"Oh, heavenly father bless these brave men, do not let one of your lambs lead into slaughter. Give them protection and relieve them from their burdens." He whispers and clutches into his relic, hoping for the best. "luminosité eternelle" the Saint ended his prayer and sighed.

If there was a time for some miracle or Divine Protection to save them from this predicament, now is the time for that. Theon remains inside the wagon, waiting for their safe return to retrieve the crazy old ginger man charging into the pact of goblins.

Vita

Vita woke up her eyes slowly, her sleep interrupted by someone whispering in her ears. She gasped in shock as she looked and saw she was in some sort of wagon. She had found herself in odd places before after accidentally falling asleep on a bus before... but this was a bit too wild. She was still regaining her bearings when she heard the man speaking of goblins and fights, looking out, she saw the things. She would have suspected she was dreaming but in the rare occasions that happened she was typically lucid, here she was confused.

"Wait!" she had told the man as he left, soon to be followed by one of the others in modern clothes within the wagon.

She instinctively sent her hand to her side to grab her backpack, but it had not been transported with her from the bus to the wagon. "Damnit." She had a knife and tranquilizer gun in there, along with almost everything that could be useful. "Anyone here knows how to do what the tattoo guy said? Anyone sees a knife or something that could work as a weapon?" she said as she continued looking for something, anything. The only thing in her pockets was her cellphone, yet as much as she pressed the buttons it would not react. On the bright side, she still had her old bracelet, it was always her objective to keep it for her whole life, and if she didn't find anything to protect herself with, that could very well be the case soon.

Anissa

---

---

Anissa spun slowly in the chair, twirling a pen in her fingers.

To say she had been hit with writers block was an understatement. She wanted to start a new series about something, but what? Her publisher was breathing down her neck for a new title too, and she really could use one. She wasn't making much in the way of money doing this. Maybe a fantasy story of some sort? She could be the next Tolkien, or Martin if she could ever find something that stuck, but that was the problem wasn't it? She was fairly confident in her story lines, characters, and plots...so what was the problem? Did people just not like her writing?

"No no, of course not. My writing is wonderful." She spun around in her chair, stopping when she was facing her desk as she put a pen to paper. Best thing to do when you wanted to create, was to create and see what happened. Rough sketches, words and places...descriptions. Write and see what stuck. That was what she did anyways, and it had usually worked. So, what did any fantasy world need? A name. Name....name...

"Welcome to Arcadia."

"Arcadia...?" She closed her eyes for a second in thought. "Eh, no, sounds a little bland and-" Immediately upon opening her eyes again, a look of utter shock crossed her face as she realized she was no longer sitting in her bedroom. In fact, she was in some place that was so out of place she had to wonder if she hit her head in that little temper tantrum and this was some fever dream while in reality she was foaming at the mouth and humming the Lord of the Rings theme over and over again. The only thing that got her attention pulled from her thoughts was when the wagon bumped along the road, nearly sending her over the side of it.

"Oof, I'm certainly not in the UK any more..." She took a quick look around the wagon, noticing a few others with her. Human too, from the look of it. Of varying backgrounds and stories likely. Overall though, Anissa barely paid attention to the short, burly man that was saying something about goblins and the others. She was too busy trying to rationalize her predicament

"Hmm..." Anissa narrowed her eyes, watching the dwarf-like man - Magni, run off and meet the group of Goblins. "...Either I'm wearing a jacket that lets me hug myself and am currently in one of those lovely white padded rooms, or I've somehow ended traveling with what looks to be a dwarf in a medieval wagon." She mused silently to herself, standing up from where she was sitting. "And since I know I am in fact, completely sane...the second option must be the correct one."

Before she could really do anything else however, two of the others with her took action first. One of the men hopped off the wagon, ordering them to get the wagon turned around before running into the fray. Anissa merely blinked as she watched, one of the other men giving a prayer of some sort?

"Well, this is quite interesting." She mused, standing up in the wagon. "So we have a holy man, a man too eager to play hero, a writer, and a whole rag-tag group! How quaint. I couldn't ask for a better setting." She laughed, perhaps taking this situation far too lightly. Or perhaps it was misplaced confidence.

"Don't worry!" She said in reply to one of the other's question. "Lets see...I read about it in a book once...driving a wagon shouldn't be too difficult, no?" She hopped into the drivers seat, taking the reigns and attempting to turn the wagon around.

---

tap tap tap

The figure sat in their swivel chair. Pushed a fair distance away from the cluttered desk, towards the center of the equally cluttered room. Papers and textbooks layered different surfaces, as well as empty water bottles, snack wrappers and a few unopened parcels.

tap tap tap

With one knee pushed to their chest Ellie Anders sat in her room, tapping her dangling foot against the hardwood floor in a steady rhythm. Earbuds plugged in and music blasting loud enough to deafen the more gentle listener. Her eyes were shut tight, with the lights turned off she looked almost afraid of something, afraid of anything that wasn't her music. In reality she was more scared of her thoughts, which no matter how hard a vocalist screamed; were always too loud to be drowned out. She had had a familiar dream after the recent nap, more so a part memory and part nightmare. She knew it would just take some time to move on, but she wanted it gone now. Replaced with shredded vocal cords and smashed symbols. Altogether though she was distracted, not through her music ass she hoped, but by it's replacement. A feminine voice uttering a line alien to the all too familiar song. In a start Ellie's eyes shot open, looking for the phantom who hacked her music feed.

Instead she found a face, just as confused looking as she felt. Then she saw a few more, and a few more still. Taking one earbud out and pushing her back against the wagon wall, to create a few millimeters more of distance. In a flash her quiet room changed to a bumpy road, a commanding stout man, some odd individuals and a few little screaming goblins.

Clearly she shouldn't have eaten that chocolate right before bed.

As the others moved into action, either apparently praying or joining the caravan driver, Ellie didn't know how to move. She had no knowledge in her head to fall back on; what DOES one do when assailed by an entire world of fantasy? When one particular goblin leapt onto the wagon, just a few feet away from Ellie, she reacted on instinct. Jumping to her feet and with a full swing of her body she drilled into it's small frame with a solid right straight.

Poor little bastard went flying.

---

Dreams are the funniest things. You go to lie down in a bed for 6 to 8 hours and then get dropped into another world. You're a part of that world too, you might not know how you got there or why you're there but everyone else does. That's why when Jamie heard a whisper in her ear and opened her eyes to be surrounded by a bunch of strangers in a wagon she didn't really question things. She just assumed this was a dream and that she would figure it out sooner or later. If not, she would just wake up, so she might as well just go with the flow. A burly man drove the vehicle, although calling it a vehicle might be a bit of an overstatement. Really it was more of a handful of boards and wheels nailed together with animals lugging it around. Regardless, the burly old guy seemed like a fine enough man.

Which is why it terrified her when he stopped the cart and ran off chasing after goblins. Goblins were dangerous more often than not and Jamie didn't think their driver had it in him to take on a horde of dangerous monsters. Her eyes darted all over, looking for something to defend herself with just in case they ran into danger. Pain caused you to wake up from dreams right, so she probably wanted to avoid pain. She grabbed a nearby shield, unlike the rickety old cart this shield was actually made of metal. Very dirty and rusted metal, but metal nonetheless. She jumped out of the cart like one of the other passengers did to chase after the old guy, a small little goblin leapt at her almost immediately after she exited the vehicle(?) with the intent to hurt. Jamie reacted on instinct, swinging the shield into it's face and feeling its skull crack as it bounced off the shield and skipped along the dirt. Jesus, it actually skipped along the ground.

While Jamie still doesn't really know how she got there, she does have a good idea of why she's here. At least for now. Where is here exactly though? It was then that she remembered the words that were whispered to her as she entered the dream. Perhaps it's not a dream though, her arm was feeling a little sore after punting the goblin into oblivion after all. You're not supposed to feel pain in dreams right? Whatever the case, she knew the name of her new reality, it was the first thing she heard after all.

---

It had been seven o’clock in the evening. The shutting of neighborhood doors and low roar of nearby crowds of people broke the silence as Lial made his exit from the local comic shop. The temperature outside was chilly, a breeze, overcast all throughout the day, jacket weather. Which is technically what he was wearing, though the stylized design of his attire catching the interest of social folk as he lightly began to stomp home.

He had little resistance usually. Maybe avoiding the traffic of people, perhaps an accident along the way. But this time it seemed fate had other plans for the melodramatic boy. A blockade of annoying, gossiping, gawkers whom seemed to be staring at something? His sights glanced sidelong to the location of interest. Street formers, magicians to be in fact. A man in an all black suit, and another clad in white, they had style and showmanship that even Lial had to raise a lip to. But this interest would be short-lived, as our character tucked his hands into each according pocket and went on about his way. With some struggle, people don’t like being polite when they’re watching some form of entertainment.

Just a few blocks left. “Wishin’ they’d move their shop closer, s’probably falling on deaf ears.” He asked himself, the slowing pace of his steps as he finally reached the red light where he typically crossed the street. He'd let out a deep breath, a light mist exhuming as he plucked his hands from the pockets and hurry onto the black pavement. However, that same fate from earlier decided that there were new plans for Lial. Before he could blink, a speeding corvette with blaring lights sped right through the red light and-

"Welcome to Arcadia." The feminine voice chimed into his ears, the song humming and soothing the boy as his racing heart slowed. He was nearly killed after all. And now the bright light panned into the rickety riding of a ewe-drawn wagon, and surrounded by strangers. They were all relatively normal looking, he was the one who stood out- actually looked the part in the foreign environment. Soon the small bearded man was jumping off into battle versus your entry level fantasy mob "The Goblin". And then a few other members of the part followed after, one of them even started ranting off about religious nonsense. He wasn't so quick to act, hell, everyone else was jumping into action so watching from the backlines seemed like an effective method. Lial even sifted a hand into his pocket to remove a stick of gum, unwrapping the foil from the mint-green sum to plop it into his mouth.

"Goblins are weak t' fire usually, 'least that's usually how it works. Maybe not, I'm not of much use." He doted, his legs crossing and resting interlocked hands on his lap. Lial chomped happily, the green gum visibly bouncing around his pearly whites as he sidelong gleamed down towards the combat. There were so many questions though, where they were, why they were there, how they got there- they'd have to wait though, he was too bust giving moral support to the team. Raising his fists and cheering half-heartedly Lial would punctuate, loudly, carelessly. "Hold up, I'll play th' bard.. Let m' songs of support uplift ye' or some shit."

Another day, another gray sky. Off in the distance, a tanned Asian man hawked clothing in a foreign tongue, while druggies stood huddled behind a trash can, sharing joints and shivering. It was summer, and Elias felt like wasting away again. Sitting as West on a sickly green mah-jong table, the brown haired man took a drag of the cigarette, before letting out a long, indifferent sigh. White smoke drifted up, and his eyes caught a pudgy toddler standing there in the open, taking a piss in a puddle.

Sucks to be the dude that steps in that puddle later.

Another drag, and he turned his attention to the state of the bored once more. XiaoLang was always a wily bastard, but the clocksmith wasn’t having too much luck with the tiles in the past few rounds. Looked to be frustrated as well. Danielle had a mean poker face, but she liked to cash in on small wins too often. Low risk, low reward, low threat. And good ol’ Akio was sitting nice and prim, the butcher’s thick hands resting on his belly as he smiled. Confidence was nice, and the man did have a substantial lead, but…
Fortune favored the bold. The tiles were lined up, the Arhats assembled. Gray ashes formed at the glowing tip, as Elias placed two hands the side of his row of tiles, a spark of amusement as he watched confidence, apathy, and frustration turn into something else.

“Four Kongs. Shi Ba…”

“Welcome to Arcadia.”

“…Luo Han.”

He pushed the tiles down, and they scattered onto the dirty wooden floor of the carriage.

A bulky midget of a man, looking like a roided up madman, ran past, shouting orders that didn’t make much sense at all, before brandishing a big sword. He charged into a group of similarly short, but much scrawny monsters, green flesh reminding the scruffy smoker of orcs or something. Without missing a beat, a younger lad with a reckless grin rushed into the vicious melee as well, while another lad in green began to…pray?

And others were leaping into action as well. A bookish girl took the reins, claiming that she could turn the sheep around because she read about it. A dyke (wait, no, that’s politically incorrect and sexist or whatever) punched one of the green things pretty hard, and Elias hoped she didn’t break her fist with that punch. Another swung a rusty shield like a baseball bat, leaving a sickly crunch and a mist of blood, while the third…sat there, chewing on gum.

Yeah, that dude had the right idea. After this, Elias was totally going to lay off on cigarettes and beer, get himself a healthier diet of salad or shit like that, and stop having these weird dreams of goblins and muscle freaks.

He took a drag of his cigarette, clicked his tongue at how short it’s gotten, and flicked it away.

It pirouetted through the air, danced in the wind, and struck one of those slimy green bastards in the eye.

Oops.

“Weak against fire, huh?” Elias remarked, the ghastly screech of a mud-demon resounding through the forest, before pocketing his tiles. “Got some more gum, kid?”
@Anders