[IC] Roleplay about being trapped inside a roleplay: Adventures from the Place Holder

[HokumPocus]

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Inside of a quiet suburban neighborhood, nestled in between rows of almost identical upper middle class houses, an adult man giggled to himself with an unsettling sense of satisfaction. Around him an array of writing instruments, figurines, dice and various other eccentricities colored the chestnut table sporadically. Craig Braunswick was the sort of person to dump all the toys out of the box and make something out of the mess. He didn´t just live in disorder, he thrived in it, and everyone on that table more or less figured that out by now.

An imposing rectangular shape stood out from the littered plastic. Any experienced tabletop player would have recognized the tome as Lord Omsagro´s Adventure Index, the newest and most comprehensive roleplaying system. Craig hadn´t wasted any time in flipping through the pages in front of everyone with his junk food stained hands.

He was the sort of person who the community would label a “powergamer” or a “rules lawyer”, maybe even the occasional “asshole turdburglar”. Naturally, most people wondered as to how someone like him could draw such a large crowd, and most people stopped as soon as they set foot in his dining room. No, calling it a dining room would feel inappropriate for something so grand.

It was like a conference room, one for only the very wealthy of another era. Polished end tables and towering windows and display cases with fine china all competed for visual attention. From the ceiling hung an elegant and great chandelier, and while in any other room it would have been a centerpiece, in this one it was only a footnote among the dozens of other decorations. It was the sort of room that made you move carefully out of fear of breaking anything. However, it became apparent that Craig didn´t care for any of it, or at least see it as anything out of the ordinary. Intricate and unlit candelabras that once occupied the table were poorly shoved into a corner of the room. Ceramic bowls of priceless value were now topped with doritos and other equally unhealthy snacks. The sight of such ornamental and luxurious furniture carrying out its intended purpose felt wrong somehow.

As for the players, they had all been instructed to pitch in their roleplaying ideas which he hastily scribbled onto a journal. Most of them came to the conclusion that Craig had no idea what he actually wanted roleplay, seeing as he accepted anything and everything as part of his world´s official lore. They were currently in the character creation stage of preparations. Nobody was really sure what kind of frankenworld the idiot was patching together out of so many conflicting contributions, and neither were they instructed as to the sort of characters that the roleplay would require. A “Sure, sure, whatever.” paired with a waving of the hand was given in response to all of their concerns. Craig´s leg bounced wildly. He was excitedly waiting to accept their characters, binge eating to pass the time.

[Lord Orgasmo]

Alex

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Careful steps could be heard as Alex emerged from a nearby staircase. With him, Alex carried a large platter with several clinking plates. On them sat Alex's famous 5-Cheese grilled cheese. Cheddar, Provolone, Mozzarella, Swiss, and Havarti melded together to create a oozing cheese filled toasted Sandwich.

Step by step, Alex slowly descended the stairs and took careful steps towards the table as to not send his delicious creations towards the ground.

At last he reached the table, and gently set down his platter of large sandwiches in an empty space near the center.

"Alright guys, Sandwich time. I made more than enough for everybody."

Alex sat in a nearby seat where he had put his character sheet. His arms still ached from carrying all those sandwiches in such an odd position, but the pain soon faded as he finished up his character sheet.

Alex tapped the eraser of his pencil against his lip repeatedly as he turned the cogs of imagination in his brain."Hmm... What's a good name? A mere second passed before he was struck by an idea."Milon."

He quickly wrote the name down and passed his sheet over to Craig."How's it look man?" Alex grabbed one of his Grilled Cheeses from the center of the table and began eating as he awaited Craig's judgement.

[Karkinos]

So admittingly, Soumer wasn't paying any attention; he could be wrong, but he swore this had all happened before.

The smell of melted cheese was a trigger as he shot out of preoccupation. Under dim lighting, the glow of his phone screen peeked from under the edge of the table like a searchlight, dancing off the chandelier. The little reflections would turn from white to green, the texts rolling in, the occasional meme, and Soumer's inevitable "lol" -- then to yellow as he swapped tabs, took a picture of the floor, tapped out an innocuous comment, hit 'Send,' kept his streak. He could do it subconsciously, which gave him a window to look surprised, though, with the heaviness of his brow, he may have looked more irritated than anything.

Soumer had never eaten a "grilled cheese" in his life -- if this was his first time at the meeting. If it wasn't, the only time he would have tried one or recognized one was here. The only time he had sat at the head of this table, right of this "Game Master," within this basement.

Maybe he should make his character psychic or something. If this was even portentous. To Soumer, it just felt disorienting, like living in a dream, or having something crash on you and having to recreate off of memory.

This was a convoluted way to refuse a sandwich. "Ah. N-no thanks."

In the same stammering dialect, he says to the group, "It is just me, but I am feeling a déjà vécu here."

---

^{257 words - ft. Soumer Sault in Groundhog Day.}

[BizarreLolli]

Rosemarie parks her car staring up at the house for a second before sliding out holding her coffee and a bag containing her homemade fudge brownies. She smiles leaning in grabbing up her notebook before heading inside the house, not bothering to knock since she been here to many times to count "Craig! Sorry I'm late, you would not believe the line the coffee shop had this morning"

She makes her way into the dining room and smiles at the two guys sitting around the table, she had thrown on black sweatpants and dark purple tank top for today wanting to be super comfortable. "Hello, how everyone doing?" setting down her cup and looking around the table searching for a spot to place the brownies. She shifts bowls around some creating a spot for them and smiles sitting down herself finally able to take a sip from her coffee, she drinks it black not into adding sugar or creamer which most people find beyond weird when she tells them.

Opening up her notebook to her character she had worked on last night and pushes it over towards Craig for approval "Dont get your dirty fingers on my notebook" smirking as she glances at him and leans back in her chair studying the room noting that more figurines have been add to the room. Rosemarie looks up as Soumer talks about a feeling of deja vu and shrugs sipping on her coffee letting out a happy little sigh "Nothing feels different to me" turning away she reaches over grabbing up a sandwich and taking a bite, purring at how wonderful it tastes, she had missed breakfast because she had to get her workout in this morning knowing she going to spend all day here, eating nothing but delicious junk food.

[Etranger]

For the umpteenth time, Theresa questioned why she was still here. The answer was simple enough in theory; she had come here to get out of her comfort zone and challenge herself to be a functioning adult for once in her life. The only problem was she had the misfortune to choose to embed herself in a group with a degenerate man-child for a leader. While Theresa imagined she had little ground to stand on, at least she could claim not to inflict her obnoxiousness upon others if she could help it. Craig almost seemed to revel in acting like a pustule on the face of society. Here he was, gorging himself with common snacks, resting them upon finery befitting a man of a far greater caliber than himself. He was like a living metaphor for the rot in society. It did not help matters that he was one of the most horrendous roleplayers Theresa had ever known. She had preferred to roleplay online before this, and even on the bowels of the internet had she not encountered anything so overtly disgusting, though that may be trumped up to good fortune on her part. Nobody would know it from looking at her, but she had mentally driven needles into Craig's neck multiple times over the course of these sessions.

As much as his attitude bothered her, she was sometimes thankful for his inattentiveness. Today she had submitted a character produced in a rare spate of idealism on her part, accompanied by an equally idealised piece of lore to accompany Craig's realm of myriad juxtapositions. She was already thinking about how silly it was, and thanking the stars that Craig didn't really bother to look at it very closely. If he had, she imagined the malignant tumour would have had some crass commentary on it. It really was a blessing to go unnoticed sometimes, even if it was contrary to the point of her coming here.

Indulging in one of Alex's sandwiches, the topic of conversation turned to one of familiarity as they all awaited the beginning of Craig's campaign. "When do things not seem like we haven't done them a thousand times?" Theresa remarked listlessly. Sometimes she felt like every day was a repeat of the last. Granted, on her end, it was probably because she didn't get out as much as she should, but with this group, it did feel like the bulk of instances revolved around watching Craig act like an ass with little variation in poor behavior.

[Haeo]

This would be his first time participating in one of this legendary DM’s fatuous debacles. John was actually looking forward to seeing exactly how stupidly this would be put together. He had attended a couple of the final meetings from the DM’s last game since he couldn’t very well just jump in to the end of one. But, this would be the first in which he participated. He parked his truck in a safe and out of the way spot and came in quietly without preamble, finding an empty chair and putting down a small tray of sushi that he had bought on the way over. Sure enough, as he looked around, he identified several of the dominant snacks and even the sandwiches as being heavy on the cheese. The veritable banquet of lactose made his stomach tighten reflexively. Yet, there was a shining light of hope at the table.

Rosemarie had brought brownies.

He left the sushi and went back to his truck for his duffel and a small bag.

He had already become a little fond of Rosemarie for her bold manners and her way of not putting up with unnecessary crap to say nothing of her sense of humor. Her brownies were just a form of icing on the cake. In fact, he hadn’t even noticed that she was pretty until the second session he attended. Still, fondness and looks aside, she was ten years his junior and there was no way that he was going to start trying for a relationship with someone that young. If she tried to start something, that would be a different matter. For now, he was glad to have found a person whose presence he could actually enjoy.

He pulled out his customary stack of notebooks and sketchbooks along with a pair of chopsticks. Yet, instead of taking a bite of his sushi, the first thing his chopsticks snagged was a brownie. Sushi was masterful but fudge was divine. He tossed an appreciative nod and a half-smile to Rosemarie as he began with the best and got his materials organized, creating a small island of order in the chaos of the room. He also put the small bag on the table by Rosemarie.

He had noticed her mentioning something that she liked at the last meeting that he attended, and he had felt a little bad after eating as many of her brownies as he had that day. After all, he was only an observer at the time. So, he had snagged a little something by way of apology and thanks. The bag contained a couple servings of sushi and a small veggie platter featuring carrots plentifully.

It was only now that he pulled out a thin notebook from his stack and passed it down to Craig for his approval. He had finished the character the morning before and polished it up a bit in the time he had left around work. His friend had been teasing him about losing their bet and attending this more than once, but that guy had never been quite the brightest bulb. John had wanted to lose that bet. He had been watching that sap moon over that same girl for almost three years. It was a miracle that she hadn’t married someone else in the meantime. The bet was a gambit to get the putz to finally make a move and it had paid off handsomely. The two seemed quite happy together and John was happy to play the loser if it meant seeing his friend laugh so much. The guy’s depression had been irritating.

It was only now, in a quiet moment between the crunching and munching and idle chatter, that John spoke up.

“Good morning, Craig, Rosemarie, Soumer, Alex, Theresa.” His voice was as smooth, even, and deliberately unremarkable as his clothes. He always looked nice and professional but never more or less than that. His looks had the careful uniformity of a well maintained and habitual mask. Still, a red button down shirt and black pants looked good on him and he was not oblivious to the fact.

[A Lowly Wretch]

It wasn't the best day for Cynthia.

Having been sandwiched between a late night's work to finish a paper and an early morning lecture to attend she pretty much spent the majority of the afternoon living from coffee cup to coffee cup, drifting listlessly between the brief moments of artificial energy spurts that kept her off the cusp of falling asleep on her feet. After finally turning in her work there remained the matter that she had agreed to show up to one of Craig's game sessions today. She had largely spoken with him online for the most part, only having shown up in person once before back when they were discussing what system they were going to use and a little bit about characters though a majority of it could really have been boiled down to a certain amount of arguing amidst the longer term members and himself before any real consensus was reached.

Having stopped by home to retrieve her pens, papers, dice and other such tools of the hobby along with a thermos of spearmint tea she had prepared in advance she now stood at the bus stop, awaiting her primary method of transportation. Once on the bus she was on her way to Craig's house. Riveting I'm sure.

_
Once at the right stop she stepped off and began up the sidewalk towards the turn where his house laid. At the front door she gave the door a light couple of raps, not one accustomed to waltzing into places unannounced. Looking into the window in the front door she could see a number of the others had already arrived and set up at the table.

Perhaps I'm being too formal? She wondered, still standing before the door in front of her. Tentatively she opened the door and leaned in, peering around the door and past the corner where the group was sat.

"Hello." She announced her presence more or less. Taking a second to confirm she wasn't intruding she stepped through, taking her shoes off at the doorway before making her way inside. Naturally seeing as how Craig had set himself up with something of a makeshift nest arranged about him most people's seating were generally across the table from him. She took a seat in between two such folks and though the space she had chosen was sparse for table space it had yet to become cramped given the current number of present players.

_
"I finished the designs for my character and her race." She quietly informed Craig, never much one for projecting her voice let alone speaking over the general din of conversation. She produced from her satchel what looked to be a five page document detailing both her character and her race right down to the basic facets of how they exist and function in nature. She had spent a great deal of time hammering out every particular aspect of the slime species. Just deciding whether she should build them up as large single-cellular organisms or make them multicellular organisms like jellyfish took a degree of contemplation that would put many written thesis to shame.

While she was not too confident in how Craig was handling his rough-shod approach to the system she saw his flexibility as an opportunity to explore a unique method of character building, designing an anthropomorphized sample of a species unique unto itself. With a smattering of classic gaming references blended together with biological know-how she figured it should help her character at least stand out from the rest of the characters who were for the most part building off of a human framework, tweaked here and there to fill certain tropes found within fantasy but for the most part drawing from the same design. Maybe a couple horns here some wings there but for the most part most fantasy races were just exceptional humans.

She saw this as an opportunity to expand beyond humanity... Well, at least on paper.

[ShwiggityShwah]

Jacob Foster

It was his first year out in the real world. He was a contract IT technician working in the bowels of some start up pharmaceutical company where people didn't really know his name. He'd pour over the sheets, make the required changes, fixed bugs in the system. He somehow managed to get a job the same way he lived the last decade of his life, looking at a computer screen. Which is it was moments like this that he lived for. This was the the night at the club! This was the party with the guys! This was the college mixer! There was nothing like it! Cheap food, no commitments, and every game was one of either raucous laughter, empassioned arguing, or moments of glory as the team pulled together or one player had the brilliant idea of doing something incredibly stupid but pulled a Natural 20 and changes the laws of Role Playing Reality to make it just work. All week he would be thinking of how the game would be like! All week he'd be play testing characters, trying to min max and optimize them to be the best of the niche. It made him want to run his own game! Something he never quite had the guts to try.

He was a bit off on how things actually went at these sessions, namely Craig pissing off one of his players or throwing a tantrum but to admit that things were less than perfect would sour the entire ritual.

But this was an exciting one. Craig said he didn't care what people brought to the game and Jacob excitedly questioned if he could use his favorite character. It was from an exalted game a few months ago where Jacob got a chance to be the Dawn Caste. The warriors of the Exalted universe, the best warriors capable of toppling gods and demons the size of skyscrappers. He really came out of his shell, playing the big dumb hero as a combo of the Tick and the Crimson Chin, even getting some 'wow that was cool' and some laughter for his efforts. He counted that as one of the best times in his life, just before paying $100.00 to have Mark Hamil sign his Batman the Animated Series Box Set, and just after he watched Captain America and being pleasantly surprised that Marvel/Disney would be making some pretty good movies.

Jacob's been the Craigs house a bunch of times. While Craig was a jerk and would bully the group, Jacob remained faithful... he didn't have much of a choice. Any other friends he could RP with dropped out of interest midway through the college years. He could go online but they weren't quite the same. You had to be at the table. You had to see the faces and the movements to make it stand out.

He came into the room on the earlier side. He wore a big grin when he came in, announcing himself. "H-hey everyone!" He brought his laptop bag with his papers and sheets in it along with his laptop that has every bit of table top pdf literature that he'd think he would need. Considering the nebulous nature of the game, Jacob just loaded them all up and brought them all. 12.1 Gigs of endless pages of rules, spells, and monster manuals.

Jacob took a seat near Craig and opened his bag, handing him a small stack of his character sheets. "You sure I c-can play him? I mean -what other kinds of characters are everyone playing? I mean if someone else wants to play a warrior type, th-thats okay, I have my other characters just in case." It was obvious he wasn't okay by the way his smile wavered but Jacob didn't really stand up for himself and if someone else wanted to do what he was trying to do, nine times out of ten he let them. "So I can play an Exalted character right? I mean, are we even playing that? You weren't very clear." He tried to pry more info out of Craig but Craig was already furiously looking over the other characters he recieved.

Jacob would spend the rest of the early bits waving and saying hi to anyone that came in, whether he knew them or not. Welcoming, but it came off in a little brother kind of way. He also ate sandwiches and asked other players about their characters. He was happy to share his, finding his image online and showing it off. He even offered to help those that didn't have a character appearance by looking online for them. It was a great way to welcome people and break the ice.

[Harlequ]

Having spent the entire day attending lectures and finishing up essays, Kiarra was itching for some full on roleplay time. Her friend had texted her a couple weeks ago, inviting her to attend a session at Craig’s. Having only heard whispers about the GM in question, she gladly agreed, hoping to meet some new people whos first topic of conversation wasn’t retinal surgery. Blech.

Finishing up her final paper, Kiarra shoved everything into her bag, rushing out the library with a quick goodbye to the librarian. Planning to first go home and freshen up, she boarded the nearest bus, blasting music at full volume.

___________________

Pushing open the door to Craig’s place, Kiarra promptly knocked over a table. Catching its contents before it hit the ground, she looked around sheepishly, hoping nobody had seen. Concluding that no one in fact, had, she made her way to the confrence room.

Anyone already there may have been a bit startled when the over caffeinated brunette ran through the open doors of the room. Dropping a small sheaf of papers on the ever growing pile, she dropped into an empty seat, sipping at her iced cappuccino. Quickly introducing herself to the person next to her, she then proceeded to talk their ears off, occasionally giving a wave to any newcomers.

[HokumPocus]

Craig joined the fingertips of his hands together in a gesture that he must have thought made him look cool and not like a stock anime villain. Most of the people who had expressed interest in joining his… questionable manual debut had turned up on time, bringing with them plenty of snacks and a surplus of creativity to make up for his lack of it. The various greetings that he received were met with an enthusiastic grunt, as Craig was too busy viciously eyeing his friend´s sandwiches. He stacked two of them on the map he was using, right next to a condensing bottle of soda. Any seasoned player would have cringed at the sight, but it was hidden behind his dungeon master screen.

One by one the character sheets rolled in, and one by one he accepted them without thinking too hard about it.

"Milon? Alright, heh heh..."

The rest of the sheets were accepted through what linguists refer to as "sandwich speak", a scientific term used for those attempting to formulate words and sentences with a sandwich in their mouth. A team of experts have provided a translation for Craig´s words below, with special care taken to be as accurate as possible. His response to Jacob had unfortunately been classified as "completely incoherent" and left to the reader´s imagination.

"Fairy chick? Fairy chick. Knight man? Knight man. Emo magician? Heh... emo!"

Craig was satisfied at his attempts at humor and went off typecasting all of the characters, as if by doing so he could skip having to pore over their sheets entirely. I already get this character, so there´s no point in continuing to read was his general opinion. Anyone unlucky enough to have written their character sheet on a notebook would soon receive the gift of orange fingerprints. Craig wasn´t going to get away with committing crimes anytime soon, no doubt. He continued this unfunny routine until reaching the last character and then stopped as he had exhausted all possible creativity from his limited brain cells.

"Machine guy?... Machine... guy!"

It was now time to begin the second phase of preparations. The armless parlor chair that once supported his large body shrieked as he dragged himself out. He walked around the room and began to undo all of the curtains, restricting the lighting to nothing other than the chandelier that hung above them. The large doors that served as the room´s only entrance were also locked, their ancient clunking threatening to trap everyone inside unless Craig handled them more delicately.

Even if the attendees were sure of the roleplay´s status as a total clusterfuck, it was tough not to feel the sudden change in atmosphere. Another sound took center stage, the sound of an Epic Fantasy Music 10 Hours Mix video being played through a smartphone. He was very noticeably out of breath from having done all of this. The room was large and he had childishly rejected any help, so it wasn´t irregular for him to be tired. His breaths, however, were very labored, and anyone who was used to his antics would immediately figure out that he was exaggerating them for dramatic effect. His eyes darted around the room in a desperate search peer approval and didn't stop until he had delusionally assumed to have received it. He clapped his hands with a sound that was damper than it had any right to be.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let us now begin this most epic adventure!” and as he said that, emphasizing the word epic, a rumble could be felt. Soft, ominous, present.

It was impossible to deny but possible to downplay. Maybe some weird foreign cheese had been placed in those sandwiches, maybe the music mix had included some obscure and offshoot metal genre, maybe a dozen other probable events happened. Those present had little time to reason before the second wave hit. Enormous, threatening, all-consuming.

The cabinets around them all came crashing down at once in a cacophony of broken glass and porcelain, their table trembled like a homicidal rocking chair, the chandelier threatened to fall and crush someone at any second. Nowhere was safe. Strangely though, the manual didn´t budge.

Not just that, but it began to float in the center of the room in a calm fashion. If assigning emotions to books were normal, then those trapped inside the room would definitely agree that it looked pretty indifferent as far as books went. Perhaps its next actions wouldn´t have been noted, however, as they struggled to survive the whole world crashing around them. It flipped its enormous pages before settling on a particular one, whose luxuriously colored images were impossible to make out with any reasonable level of clarity among the surrounding chaos. A light the color of the sun engulfed the room, setting everything ablaze.

A vague sensation of being fizzled away. Not painful, but bizarre. Nothing but a golden light. Nothing.

Something. More things. More colors. Muddled browns, dark and earthy tones. Voices nearby, steadily growing louder. They´re at a bar. No, a tavern? They´re seated on a round table made of wood. In fact, just about everything is wooden, maybe metal or stone. Their snacks were there too, as if pretending that nothing had happened.

This would have been a bewildering situation on its own, but things would soon take a turn for the (more) worse. Upon establishing eye contact it became apparent that everyone present was now the character that they had created. Everyone except Craig. He was gone.

[Karkinos]

T-5 to impact — the room was all noise, from pointless introduction to the Game Master’s pontificating, and she was the most insipid of all, and he didn’t even care. She came on a wind that reeked of Starbucks. A conversation rose and died — what were they talking about? Deja vu? — before she plunked herself down beside the fortuitous son that was himself and jabbered on and on. He hung onto every word she said. He couldn’t remember anything she said. But her name was Kiarra.

She was the most whimsical thing about this meeting so far to the extent he first presumed the earthquake was himself, the light was her, until the angel melted into thin air.

Soumer panicked for the briefest of seconds but it was not enough to compete with his overpowering sense of embarrassment. He thought back to those moments of listlessness, especially of the way he slurred his name. He must have been nodding dumbly, near-drooling like a dog. It was actually the best case scenario to disapparate and die. Then he wouldn’t have to actually talk to her.

...

Did Heaven sell draft or something? Soumer felt as if he were in a wind tunnel, and then he didn’t. Then it was just colors and cacophony again, underlying that the woody smell of beer, rich chocolate, warm cheese. He stared down at bony hands; then he didn’t know what to feel. Not pain, and that wasn’t panic rising again. There wasn’t even a bit of confusion, nor any immediate homesickness or dysmorphia because there wasn’t any realization yet. Maybe a bit of nausea. It had all happened instantaneously, leaving no time for Soumer to do anything but—

“Excuse me-” He pushed away from the table, stumbling through a crowd that blurred into browns and faint clinks of glass and chortling laughter.

“Excuse me, excuse me,” he mumbled, towering over simulacrums of people, pushing his ways through rows between furniture he could barely perceive, then hulking through the vague impression of an open door that he had pursued as if his life depended on it.

Right— it had all happened so fast, Soumer had no time to do anything but hinge by his exposed pelvis bone and puke rivulets of gold onto the street.

With that out of the way, he could at least acknowledge how beautiful it was outside in this middle of nowhere.

He could lose himself in the open sky. But, apathetic to his mounting emotions and the inevitable epiphany, he felt a knock against his ribcage — pretty forward — and the stranger lowered the hood of their cowl. Four eyes, now exposed, ogle back accusingly.

This is Nerdinn,
Malevolent God of Hall Monitors, Backseat Driving, and All Other Instances of Entitled Nosiness

“ᗪᗩᗰᑎᗩTIOᑎ! ᗯᕼO ᒪET YOᑌ OᑌT Oᖴ YOᑌᖇ ᕼOᒪE, TEᔕTIᑕᒪEᔕ?”
...the diety snarled.

A ring rested in his pocket protector — Soumer was tempted to ask who the lucky lady was before he realized… well, he was barely heedful and certainly, relatively insane but this situation was all too familiar, some predetermination he played a part in writing, or some existing mythos he had prior thought himself too unimportant to be applied to. In his spare moment, he stared back helplessly into the tavern, desperate for any semblance of help, guidance, or martyr for blame, so as to feel less prescribed to this; Soumer whimpered, “Craig…?” and was gone.

Nerdinn thought the whole ordeal, swift as it was, to be pathetic, thereby humorous. His plethora of pupils rolled back into his head after a dramatic bout of laughter before the god retreated back under his cloak and into the bar for something to drink.

---

^{640 words - ft. Soumer Sault, Tenant of the Ring.}

[BizarreLolli]

Rosemarie glances around the room trying to pinpoint which figurines had been added to the room, always amazed that so much can be fit in this room. She looks up as others start to fill into the room too, "That's a good point, Theresa..but we do have some fun doing the same thing" chuckling softly. She also glad that she not the only one to be showing up late and smiles watching one of the new guys, John, set down a platter of sushi "Awesome." She loves sushi and considering all the junk food they have around the table she wont have to feel as guilty about what she eats today; she smiles at John as he gives her a nod while grabbing one of her brownies, her smile widening at the bag being pushed towards her and peeking inside she blows him a kiss as a thank you. John has started to become a good friend to her and she finds him attractive too, so that's a plus, but she enjoys their conversations verse some of the others.

"Hey Jacob," besides her, he probably one of the only others who been apart of this group for so long. She glances around the table at the slowly arriving new people to the group and hopes most will be hanging around for the long run, catching pieces of the various conversations from around the table. She eyes the stack of growing notebooks next to Craig, again wondering what he is planning for them today knowing several times he seems to just make things up as he goes; looking up as she hears him starting to go through the notebooks finally and groans hearing him attempting to joke.

"Craig! Gross man," getting her notebook back she glares down at the orange fingerprints and attempts using a napkin to clean them off, as she helps to slide other people's notebooks around the table toward them. She sighs thinking that she is going to have to rewrite everything on another notebook tonight, regretting that she forgot to make his own page for review since she knows how he is. She grabs up a carrot, munching on it as she watches Craig move around the room attempting to be dramatic as he closes off the curtains and sets his music to play. She chuckles always finding his dramatic efforts amusing, its one of the reason she been with the group for so long.

She blinks feeling the rumble and attempts to shrug it off but as the second on hits, she frowns starting to worry about whats happening and the fact that he locked all the doors doesn't seem all the safe to her. She covers the back of her head as a bookcase behind her drops to the floor, all its figurines shattering as they hit the ground, peeking around the table she sees the other furniture around the room starting to crash and jerks her attention up to the chandelier worrying about it falling on someone. She jumps up, her chair crashing to the ground with everything else, taking a step back from the table not sure what to be thinking at the moment about whats happening. She looks towards the light starting to shine brighter by the second and quickly turns her back on it, closing her eyes not wanting to be blinded on top of everything else happening.

Rosemarie blinks at the sudden silence in the room and slowly opens her eyes staring around, logically the room should be a disaster but instead it seems to be less crowded of items and a very simple feel to it. Slowly turning around to stare around the room taking note of everything that is different, she takes a deep breath holding it for a few seconds before slowly releasing it trying to process what just happened and thinking maybe she got hit on the head by the bookcase and now she unconscious "Someone pinch me." She looks towards John, her hands covering her mouth as she takes in the details of his character he had submitted from the black hair and eyes to the scrawny build; looking down at herself she screams stepping back from the table seeing herself barely clothed now. "CRAIG!! What the hell did you do?" staring around the room wondering where the hell he went off to

[Lord Orgasmo]

Alex

---

After handing his sheet over to Craig, Alex grabbed his phone with his spare hand and began to surf the web. He checked his emails, because for whatever reason, everything got sent to his spam folder. After a few minutes of reading, most of it was indeed spam and ads, nothing new.

There were a few times Alex would hear a door open and hear someone say something or another, but he learned to tune out such things. He looked back over at the table to see that it had mostly filled up, and there seemed to be much more food than before. Most notable was the Sushi and Brownies. Quickly grabbing a piece of nondescript sushi, he tossed it into his mouth and continued playing on his phone.

Perhaps a game or two to pass the time while Craig looks through the sheets. Wait, no. Craig would never look through the sheets. He'd probably just grunt and hand it back. Either that, or pretend to look interested and do the same.

Alex looked up from his phone at Craig. There was some sort of incoherent speech before giving a sheet back to someone. "Yeah, that's about right." Alex looked to see that his own sheet had been returned to him, and luckily with minimal damage.

Looking over his abilities once more he remembered his Minor Magic ability. Mage Hand was a nice spell, but perhaps there would but something better? He opened his mouth to speak, but it was about that time that a bright light shone from his left. Looking at the now floating book, Alex had to admit, it was a neat trick. "That's actually pretty cool. How'd you get it to-" the light suddenly got brighter, and Alex covered his eyes as it overtook him.

---

Milon

---

Before Milon even opened his eyes, his head hurt. A lot. He reached for his head, only to find that there was something stuck to his head. It felt like a horn of some kind. Pulling on it, Milon winced in pain, it was as it was stuck to him. Opening his eyes, and lowering his hand, he caught a glimpse of it. Something was wrong. Looking at his hands, he saw that they were now red in color, with claw-like nails. He looked around to see he was no longer in a house, but some sort of old timey tavern. He was still at a table though, so there was that at least. The others looked just as confused as he did, and they also looked somewhat strange.

He looked down at himself. "What in the Goddamn..." He found himself in leather armor, a deep brown in color, covering most of him. Strapped to him were a pair a Shortswords, buckled in their sheaths.

He turned to ask Craig what was going on, when he saw that he was missing. Great. "So, does anyone have any idea what's going on? Is the book still there? Maybe it has some clues."

[Etranger]

When the madness began back at Craig's house, Theresa was less concerned than would seem appropriate. Her initial thoughts were that Craig had spent an obnoxious sum of money trying to put together a little show to impress them or something. After all, if he was tasteless enough to eat junk food from precious finery, then he must have been batty enough to organise this mess just to create "ambience". Perhaps they were starting their campaign in the midst of an earthquake? It became less easy for Theresa to write off what was happening as the manual began to float and flip pages autonomously. As light engulfed the room, Theresa had well and truly begun to panic.

She awoke to the distinct sensation of feeling heavy. She initially chalked it up to a groggy sensation. They appeared to have been taken somewhere. Theresa's immediate instinct was to wonder if Craig had drugged them all to drag them off. She had always suspected he had something of a rapist/kidnapper vibe to him. How could she be sure they all hadn't been violated while they were out cold? As much as her thoughts raced with wild possibilities, the more worrying prospect was their surroundings. Being in some sort of medieval tavern was one thing, but she it was painfully clear that some of the people around her were not at all human. She wanted to say they were all in costume, but their "costumes" were too elaborate and realistic to be artificial.

As Theresa continued to take everything in, an even more insane fact became apparent. The people closest to her appeared to be the characters of the others from her group. Given the way they were talking, Theresa was quite convinced they actually were the others from her group. They all seemed equally confused with what was happening, too. "So then..." Theresa began, swiftly halting her speech at the sound of her own voice. Only, she would not describe it as her own voice. It was much deeper, masculine even. Looking at herself, her hypothesis was confirmed; she was dressed in platemail befitting a knightly paladin. It was almost assuredly Alistair's platemail. Patting herself over, the feel of every masculine feature of her body further confirmed her fears. Her solid muscles, her square jawline, it was nothing like the pasty nerd of a woman she was supposed to be. Lastly, her hands reached for her crotch, and a final conclusion was reached. "That's a penis." She whispered to herself as faintly as possible. It was like a final admission that she was very much no longer Theresa Albern, at least not on the physical level.

As the others puzzled over their dilemma, Theresa, or Alistair as it were, sat still and internally fretted over what was going on. She was not the type to take charge in a crisis, and even if she were, what on earth could she possibly suggest in this fantastical scenario?

[A Lowly Wretch]

She had been sitting at the desk largely in silence for the duration of what transpired. She had opted against taking any of the snacks issued by her fellow roleplayers, instead choosing to take a nice sip of her mint tea. She was thankful that Craig had little to no words on her character, saving her the pain of having her concept riffed on by the rather witless sort.

Screwing the lid back on to her thermos she took back her notes, catching the sight of the man's dusted prints upon several pages, and close it up before setting it aside. She made a mental note to print a new copy of her character notes when she returned home. Having known the pain of losing her work and having no copies backed up she was never remiss in saving backups of all her written efforts.

While the rest were trading pleasantries or chatting she decided to squeeze some study into the night while their GM was off playing with the curtains while generic fantasy music hummed from the phone. Then came the tremor.

She looked up, mildly confused. This region isn't prone to earthquakes. What could be the source of that tremor? She puzzled out the source. The second wave hit and it felt like a full earthquake was in effect. She dove out of her chair just as a cabinet crashed down right where she was sitting, coming quite near to being flattened were it not for her impulse to move out of the way of all glass windows and panels such as the likes which previously secured the cabinet's contents. Sterling her reaction speed was not.

She'd of warned everyone else but it seemed like there was more at work there than just earth-shaking tremors. The book itself seemed to possibly be floating though she couldn't be sure that it wasn't just launched up somehow as everything seemed to be moving too quickly for her to keep track of. The pages flipped unto a certain image before a power yellow light consumed the world, temporarily blinding her as the world melted away. It's magic took hold and she felt her body begin to change. She felt a strong sensation of nausea, as though the contents of her whole torso were ready to spill forth as her new form took hold.

For a moment she could of sworn she passed out or something to that effect, losing time before suddenly waking up.

_
There she was, well, 'She' being used loosely. Wanting to rub her eyes to adjust to the sudden change in lighting she felt something damp and soft touch her face at the exact time she had tried to lift her arms. Recoiling in surprise her eyes fluttered open just in time to see the world shifting a quick ninety degrees to the left as she spilled from her chair. A dark wooden roof filled her vision from the ground. Her whole body felt congested and she wanted to expel the bloat of fluid in her but was unable to. Everything felt unnatural, her physical feedback ringing completely different from just moments before.

"What... Happened?" She asked aloud, wondering if any of the other players were in the vicinity to answer her. It was quite audibly clear to both her and everyone else that her voice was significantly higher than before and she was far from baritone to begin with. She attempted to sit up but that proved to be far more of a challenge than what was expected. As she hoisted herself up much became far clearer. The lack of legs was the tipping point for her.

"Ah... AAAAAAAA-!!" Her scream of combined shock and horror rang loud and keened highly enough that it could be mistaken for a piping tea kettle were the listener not looking upon the source of the noise to begin with. She looked down, eyes wide with shock at the limp handless noodles occupying where hands once sat. Seeing the entirety of her lower torso congealed into a deep mint green colored mass of shuddering translucent goo was more than enough to temporarily steal her wits away, leaving her mind absent of coherent thought for that brief few seconds.

Having run out of air for the moment she was forced to take a breath which gave her the needed time to collect her faculties. She quickly looked up to see nothing was the same anymore. The room she had once occupied was now an old wooden tavern. She was surrounded by strangers, each one looking stranger than the next. Looking between them all she had to admit the ghostly plate clad skeleton was perhaps the most egregious affront to her notion of reality.

_
"What dark sorcery is this!?" She exclaimed, nothing making any sense any more. She made a visible effort to calm down, closing her eyes and breathing in deep. The fact that as she drew her breath her whole upper torso flexed like a fleshy strand of phlegm did not help this effort of hers in the slightest. Neither did the fact she didn't have a nose, forcing her to breath in through the mouth for that matter.

"This... This must be some sort of acid trip. Clearly my mind has constructed a reality of it's own. If I... If I had to guess my body is probably still at Craigs house. Oh god..." The unsettling implications of her diagnosis of this situation of hers held no relief, only more concern. She couldn't come up with a reason as to how he managed to dose her due to the fact that she hadn't touched any of the food. He couldn't of drugged her through the snacks and her thermos was in her hold pretty much from the moment she sat down. As snacks ran across her train of thought she noted that the snacks, her thermos included, were still present and sitting upon this new table they were all just previously seated at.

The disturbing thoughts of what Craig might of done to her or might be doing as of that moment were far too grim for her to bear. She decided to cease all speculation for now, ridding the terrible thoughts from her mind so she might instead confront the major obstacle before her: This surreal fantasy brought upon by the likely administration of psychotropic narcotics by a man who shouldn't even be trusted with penicillin.

"Just focus. Concentrate solely on the sound of your own voice. You are the master of your own mind." She droned to herself, Eyes closed as she attempted to try and rise above the influence. It was of little use, the squeaky voice she now possessed made it impossible to not be thoroughly distracted just listening to herself. Getting half a mind to try and sip some tea to relax she reached for her thermos only to almost fall over as her whole form wobbled like a gelatin snack.

Her attempt to lift the thermos was pathetic. Her tentacle slipped up and off the container as she lifted, her goo much too slippery to properly hold a smooth metal container such as it. Returning her new appendages to her side she held as still as she could and breathed in and out slowly, her face starting to contort into a sorrowful frown as the frustrations born of her current state of being soured into despair towards her inability to perform basic actions. Already her eyes were watering with loose droplets of green slime residue. The residue secreted from the rest of her body however was already started to eat away at the floor, the wooden boards sizzling with a prolonged hiss.

Just keep a hold of yourself. Try to think. Whatever you do don't lose your mind.

[Haeo]

The start-up for this game was proceeding apace. Craig’s antics and slovenly conduct were consistent with prior experience, although he was putting a great deal of effort into trying to be dramatic. Well, a great deal of effort relative to his standard mode of conduct. The other players were gathering with the usual banter and disrespect for the GM. He was… deserving of such opinions. Still, preparedness helped. The notebook that John had used for his character was only the physical copy. There was a digital one as well.

He felt a little pang of sympathy for Rosemarie. Cheese powder left terribly persistent marks on paper. Though he was glad to see her pleasure at the sushi. He had done well in paying her back. He took another brownie, woefully neglecting his own sushi in favor of the treat as he felt a tremble. It wasn’t from his body but it didn’t feel like an earthquake either. He paused a moment but took a bite before letting himself begin quietly brooding about the odds of structural instability in a house where Craig lived. It was not a reassuring line of thought.

Then the tremble returned as a great rumbling disruption that broke many of the things that Craig had often abused and tipped over John’s chair, leaving him briefly on the floor. He did manage to regain a crouching position as he focused on the glowing book.

John was an educated man. He knew instantly that this kind of behavior was unnatural. Scientists would have twitching fits if they saw this kind of display and weren’t able to immediately discredit either it or their own eyes.

“Craig!” He yelled into the din. “What kind of gypsy-kissed-broken-mirror-store did you buy this book from!?”

Then Craig was gone. The room was gone. It was quiet but for the soft murmur of the conversation of strangers. He was sitting again but on a simpler chair. And… he looked around to find that they were clearly in the common room of a tavern. He was also wearing decidedly unfashionable and heavy robes. And, he felt… weak… irritatingly weak. The others looked… vaguely like themselves but they were clearly not… not anymore. They had been… forced to don the identity of their characters.

He looked to his left and saw what could only have been Rosemarie… or rather her character. She was looking him up and down at the time and their eyes met. In that unguarded moment, he saw surprise and worry in her eyes as she covered her mouth in shock. She was rapidly diverted from her appraisal of him to her shock and embarrassment at being suddenly as scantily clad as her character. John was momentarily grateful that he was not easily embarrassed, otherwise he would have been blushing at what she was wearing. But, another impression was demanding his attention without mercy or patience.

That reaction would probably not be the first time he would be pitied in this wretched and weak body. Still, some part of him felt a surge of unreasonable anger, subtle and primal, at being so disrespected. He controlled it, with some little difficulty, and was suddenly and chillingly aware of the reality of their situation. He also felt a subtle warmth from where his hands rested on the table, one still holding a half-eaten brownie. There was a slight darkening of the wood around his empty hand, as though a fire had burned there for just a couple moments before being put out.

“It’s not a dream and we’re not hallucinating. That wretchedsonofarabidlemurtoadspawnedhermaphroditehooker managed to make us part of his game.” His voice was cold and hard and the exceptionally elaborate and creative curse he used was spoken so quickly that only a very attentive ear would have been able to break it down and fully comprehend it. Such insults were a bad habit of his that only came up when he was close to losing his composure, a thing that none of his current company had seen as yet. His certainty came from that brief moment of foreign rage. It had been an unwritten aspect of the changes made to his character in his backstory, a side-effect, in a sense.

[ShwiggityShwah]

"Hey Rosemarie. How's your- month been?" It was good to see that she was here. She was part of the gang. One of the only female chums he could call, but they never really hung out. Jacob thought of her in a different way a long time ago when they first started being part of the group, but never had the guts, or the looks, or the charm to really act on it. Instead, he made sure she was welcomed, laughed at her antics and jokes, and put himself squarely in the friend-zone. Considering the fun times, it wasn't a big deal. "W-What kind of character you going for?" He asked curiously.

It would be a question he would try with everyone. He wanted to make sure his character would mesh with theres, but it was a great way to break the ice. Jacob tried his hardest to talk to the people he didn't know, hoping to find a fulfilling experience in this group.

Thanking John for the sushi, he had two pieces and brought up the topic of where he got them, mildly boring on Jacobs part.
Alex seemed to have an A type personality, and Jacob would be the submissive in their conversation, lacking the confidence to keep up.
Kiarra was a real hoot, and Jacob would quickly gab with her for a while about the other RPs she was in and her characters.

He wouldn't have the chance with Soumer, Cynthia, or Theresa as Craig handed back the sheets, now with a tasteful smearing of orange and got the game started. The down arrow on his laptop had that finger print and Jacob was sure to wipe it off with a napkin while grabbing a brownie.

"This is gonna be good." Jacob said, tapping the table as he watched Craig do his damnedest to set the mood, set the ambiance. Jacob was easily pleased with little touches like that, being kind of childlike despite having a job and everything. Pictures and music really set the scene so you could put up a mental image. Like you could actually be there.

Then things started shaking.

As chaos seemed to peak- as the smiles became looks of concern, and then avid terror. "An earthquake?" And the moment he said that, Jacob couldn't get it out of his head. The book was moving, and he should be entranced with it. It was actual magic before his eyes but his frantic nerves had him more in flight than fight. Jacob grabbed his laptop, closing it and quickly dashing underneath the table. "Under the table guys!" He shouted, but never checked to see if they followed his advice. He clutched his technology and cowered on the floor.

The scene crescendo'ed and everything went quiet.

---

As the scene and the impossibility of it all started to effect everyone, a scream and words of surprise got him out of his funk. He tried to move, lifting his head up. The whole table seemed to jump as it was lifted from his legs for the barest of seconds, causing the dishes and cups on it to clatter from the force. "Oww!" Came a deep might sounding voice from below. Was the table really that low? The sizzling of wood also got his attention, but he didn't know where from, he just had to get into the light.

The laptop was no where to be found but frankly he wasn't concerned with that, and instead wanted to just get up, find out what happened. A hand, huge, like a lumberjack rose up from under the table and he awkwardly slid his massive frame from below, jostling the table a few times. He was in shock, shock and aww at what he saw. It was a tavern. Impossibly life like. "Woah..."

He then got to his feet. He towered over his fellow players. Like a heavy weight pro wrestler, three hundred pounds of rippling muscle, and approaching seven feet in height. The strangest thing, he seemed to be... glowing? Little wisps of light seemed to steam off his frame as if he was a match, but there was no heat. He turned, his big green eyes, and what appeared to be a sun burst in golden light on his brow. There was no resemblance to the kid he was before, but looking at each in turn, his big eyes opened.

"Oh my god... We're-" John explained it all. Exactly what Jacob's fantasy driven brain was thinking. He looked at his hands, then his chest and his attire. While everyone was so surprised and mortified at their attire and form, Jacob in a rather bit of tastelessness with his deep and loudish voice. "This is totally cool." He was grinning, his eyes were completely lost in this. He looked up, Rose with her scantly clad armor, there was a slime, a couple of guys in armor where the genders where they were pretty much equal male to female. "We're- the characters guys! Holy shit! How the hell did Craig do this!? You think its like- headset VR?" Craig had the money for a dozen Occulus or PSVR sets. He grabbed his chiseled square head and felt all around it. But felt nothing, everything seemed so straight. "This is unreal. There's no way!" His enthusiasm was a stark contrast to the groups predicament.

Alex made a point and it was only where he was sitting that Jacob had to remember. "Al-? Alex? Alex right?" he asked, his sausage like fingers pointing at the man in leather, but his head on massive shoulders looked confused. "Yeah, yeah that book-" Jacob turned to get over that side of the book, but his massive bulk made him bang his head on a beam of the ceiling and then reach out to take a chair, causing it all to collapse, the chair and the table unable to take his massive strength. The crash echoed through the tavern. "Oww." He said, sitting on the pile of rubble.

[Zakattacks]

All the while, while others discussed and spoke at Craig's place, there had been one quietly already sitting at the table where they were all congregating. One who's emerald-like eyes gazed quietly on the others while simply slipping his pages forward to Craig while others were arriving. This young man was one who was a common sight to those who were regulars among Craig's inner circle. Was he nice? Possibly. But he was sure as heck studied. The young man wore a light blue collared shirt, buttoned all the way up, paired with a simple pair of straight blue jeans which simply continued to accentuate his "nerdy" look. Albeit one that was well-tidied.

All the while, as others brought in snacks, he simply snacked on what seemed to be some chex mix which he kept to himself. Sugary snacks were something that were not sufficient fuel, in his mind, and he even kept a cup of coffee at his side, a black cup. He was here to have fun and enjoy himself, for sure, but there was something else on his mind, to be sure. Something which wouldn't have been apparent to Craig, even if he had bothered to check his sheets. Something he had been focusing on and debating for the last few days. After all, Craig had advertised it, and to one who often did his homework, it was something he was quite aware of as soon as Craig started telling everyone he wanted to invite about it.

And yes, Nicholas did help with Craig's homework. Why? Well, frankly put, there was a mutual benefit. Nicholas did the homework, and Craig decided to NOT be obnoxious to him...at least. That's what Nicholas thought the established order of things would be. Unfortunately, it was quite the opposite. What had begun as a few small things turned into large projects with near-deadlines which caused Nicholas' own projects to flounder and his grades to begin to plummet.

And so came tonight. Nicholas was going to get something out of this. And he was going to get something good. His sheets were designed particularly well. And the power was quite...out there, but frankly put, there was a reason, or Nicholas thought, it had been easily approved. See, Nicholas had spoken to Craig pertaining to his homework problem, and he wanted something out of it. Craig offered to let him join the game, but Nicholas asked for special permissions for his powers to be approved beforehand. After some bargaining, he was able to get -that- out of him.

And now Nicholas was going to use this to have an edge. A little something as a reward. And maybe the chance for something more. To possibly overcome Craig's traps, and maybe even break his game. But he had to be careful. Craig would no doubt cry foul if something happened that he could disprove -shouldn't- happen in the game, as he had before when he himself was a player. So he had to walk a fine line here, using every little bit of game legalism on his end sparingly. Only then, could he overcome Craig's no doubt simply-thought out campaign and maybe teach him a little respect...or in the very least, give Nicholas some catharsis.

And so he watched as the sheets were soon "critiqued", and then passed back. And then watching Craig's...overdone antics with closing off the light sources that belonged outside and locked the doors. Odd. Not something he was used to in other games quite like this, but he could at least appreciate that Craig was putting in actual effort. However, the thing he wasn't quite appreciative of was the sudden floating object, and the soft rumble below them, causing several things to fall and shatter. Indeed, the chaos of the situation was overwhelming. Nicholas had stood up, preparing to make a run for it, before the entire room was filled with dazzling sun-like light, making him raise up his hand in defense, the all consuming sensation wondering what in the heck had been put into his chex mix by Craig. And soon...

Soon, he felt himself finally lowering his hand, looking around himself. A new sensation overtook him. The feeling of glasses gently nestled on his nose, and the feeling of some different kind of clothing he wasn't akin to. He looked down at his body, realizing he had by his side a steel long sword, ready to be drawn. And more than that...oh, he felt much more than that.

He could feel the very energies flowing through his body, these strange energies manifesting themselves to his senses as a tangible force. He could feel it ceasing, dwelling, moving. The very essence of his being. Had he died and gone to heaven? Was he on some sort of acid trip? Clearly, the smell of beer, wood, and the sight of stone made too much coherent sense. His eyes slowly looked towards others after having been caught up in these emotions, taking note of these..."new" individuals' reactions. And yet...they seemed to echo the same thing. 'Craig'.


Slowly, he stood up, looking towards the others. "Forgive me for interrupting, but frankly put, it seems like we're all stuck in a predicament, if my hypothesis is true. Tell me, are we all seeing a bar and experiencing the same senses that would portend to a logically operated tavern?" He asked, looking around them. "If this is the case, it would be wise to assume that for all of us to be having the same lucid experience is highly unlikely. Though, to be fair, our current predicament might be even more likely if that's not the case..." He considered, looking over more of his clothing for a brief moment before finally speaking up again. "Just to make sure I'm not dreaming myself, you all did write characters similar to your current appearance, yes?"

[Karkinos]

-- GOOD ME.

Nerdinn makes his supererogatory mutterings to himself in a tongue indistinct while rolling a ring between two fingers; it is indeterminable how he manages a survey of the scene of waltzing chaos, the black hood obscuring his face. That is until factoring in omnipresence, though this deity in-particular is resigned to myopia -- content with it. These are all very ordinary organisms, considering, but they are absolutely losing their minds -- subtle in the surrounding bustle and din of the tavern, unmistakable to the many-eyed god whose satisfaction in the matter was immense.

"Good tidingshh fellow individualshh," goes the cloaked and legless Nerdinn in his closest imitation of speech. He is approximate to the head of the table, but addresses the group as a whole, incapable of singling out a sorry specimen: "Might I join your company tempowawily? Thishh tavern ishh quite cwoded."

He gestures to a chair, recently made empty.

---

^{154 words - ft. Nerdinn, Malevolent God of Nosiness.}

[BizarreLolli]

****Rosemarie/Lady Evadne****

She sinks down into the closest chair staring at John as he strings together several curse words in a rather unique way, groaning she drops her head to her hands trying to think clearly "There's no logical reasoning behind what is happening to us though...I mean, we play magic all the time but did any of us even remotely think it could be real?!" Looking up around the room, studying everyone and their new appearances flinching as a few seem to be worst off than others. She stares down at the table searching out the book that Alex and Jacob seem to be asking about and John had creatively questioned about "What book?", jumping at Jacob's large form destroying a chair causing him to crash to the tavern's floor. She pauses on John's hand still resting against the table, reaching out and touching the table around his hand "John? What is your character's skill set again?"

She stands up again moving closer to inspect the table, her curiosity of the unknown outweighing the confusion and freakishness of whats happening to them; pushing his hand out of the way she runs her fingers over the section of the table that's now a darker, scorched color, almost as if John had burnt it "I wonder if this means..." taking a deep breath she thinks about how she wrote up her character to change sizes. She lets out her breath closing her eyes, thinking small and slowly opens them after a few moments and gives a tiny squeal seeing herself now floating above the burnt spot on the table sparkling dust towards it; sucking in her breath she attempts to fly higher but crashes to the tavern's floor having returned to her normal size "Oww" rubbing at her hip.