Tyrant from the West — Roleplayer Guild

He didn't know how long he had been here, or how long he had been asleep. All he knew is that when he came too, he knew nothing. He couldn't tell the year, the day, the week, the month, all he could tell was that it was probably morning and that as of know he was in what appeared to be quite the shitty little shack. Cíocal rose up, getting off of what he believed to be a makeshift mattress made out of five layers of torn up blankets with a couple quilts thrown in there. Cíocal took a quick survey of the rest of his room, as well as gave himself a quick rundown. He was not injured, nor hungry. His vision wasn't blurry and his book was....

 Where the fuck was that book? 

Cíocal tore the small shack apart looking for it. He couldn't quite comprehend why he even knew there was supposed to be a book or why he wanted it, but as he searched and wished for it to be a little easier to find, it fell atop his head. It then dropped to the floor and made a small 'thud'. Cíocal picked up the book and then looked up towards the ceiling. There wasn't even a fan or anywhere for it to be, so how had it been up there for so long? Well, whatever the reason it was up there, it didn't bother him all that much. It didn't seem plausible, but its convenience put him at ease. He then flipped through the pages of the book, he could only understand a few of the names on there and the rest of the pages were either completely blank, had too much scribbling on them to read, or had some ink-stains that almost seemed to move to cover up the most important parts of the names. Even if he couldn't read most of it though, he felt it was natural and ok. He almost felt as if the book would heal, like it was a living organism or something. 

Cíocal then raided the single pantry and the fridge in his awful little shack, and found an unopened can of beans, a bottle of captain-fizz that appeared to be quite stirred, and half a pomegranate. Not exactly the brunch of champions but it certainly would suffice. After cleaning himself up and taking a shower, with water that was actually clear, he looked around for some cleaner clothes to dress up in so that he could be presentable. However, he only found rags and trash. As he was about to give up hope, he looked towards the door and a suit was hanging from it! Cíocal went up to it and put it on as quickly as possible. As he was doing so, a small note fell from one of the pockets.

 To Aodhán, goodluck. You're gonna need it. 

Was that his name? Aodhán?  Wasn't my name Cíocal? He asked himself, both of them felt right. However, one of them felt a little more 'extreme' in a way his head just couldn't wrap itself around at the time. So he decided to go with Aodhán, at least for now. Thats what he decided as he walked outside into what appeared to be some kind of desert. The nearest road he saw was about six-hundred feet away, and from what he could tell it was a highway. With no where else to go, he decided it was best to follow it. Left or right? As he came closer to the road and wondered which way to go, towards a left he saw a giant sign that read, 'Welcome to Pheonix!' 

 So I'm in Arizona, huh? Cíocal felt a part of his mind become clear as he read the sign. He recognized now the he was in Arizona, America. Closest city was pheonix. Cíocal didn't know where his home was, but it felt far away after reading that, as if his home wasn't even on the same continent. 

As bothered by that as he was, he felt as if he had something to accomplish here. A feeling of determination that had no place to let itself out, bottled up in his chest. He walked towards the city of Pheonix, which was going to be about a fifteen mile walk. Something he didn't want to make at all. Was there a way around this?  Maybe the answer is in the book! The thought flew threw his head as he took the book from his hand and opened it up to the first page. He put his finger to the text and mumbled to himself as he looked over the first couple names. As he mumbled, a motorcyclist appeared from behind him and was carrying an extra helmet. 

"Hey boss, need a li-"

Cíocal slugged the man across the face and knocked him out. He briefly wondered why the man had called him boss, but then figured it was probably just a figure of speech of the locals in this area. Cíocal then quickly took the spare helmet off the ground and dropped the book in its place, then got on the motorcycle. He had never driven one before, but as he got on he felt as if it was going to be fine. The keys were already in the ignition; he twisted them and the motorcycle let off a small roar as it turned on. Cíocal then speed off towards Pheonix, leaving the motorcyclist and the book behind. 

What Cíocal would have seen if he had turned around though was not what he would have expected to see at all . Both the man and the book disappeared into a flash of light and smoke, leaving only a trace amount of ash where they once lay. The motorcyclist, who Cíocal thought was unconscious, was laughing as he disappeared. Almost as if this was some inside joke between friends.
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