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Thread: IC Thread 1: Stone to Flesh, or Waking Up in the Future

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    Default IC Thread 1: Stone to Flesh, or Waking Up in the Future

    For a long time,there was only blackness. You’re not sure how long you were in theblackness. It could have been days, months, or years. You were trulyalone, with only dreams to keep you company. You dreamed of yourfamily, your friends, your favorite foods. But always those wouldfade. Fade to utter blackness. Then came the warmth, a glowingsensation starting in the chest and spreading. Then the noise.Splintering and shattering, followed by chill as cold air touchedyour skin. Then blinding, piercing white light as your sight returns.It’s all too overwhelming and you slip back into the darkness.


    You come to yoursenses as you’re lying in a bed. A fairly comfortable bed,actually. You glance around the room and come to a realization you’rein some kind of hospital or infirmary. You all are wearing simplecotton tunics and loose pants, and have been bathed, possibly bysomeone else. None of you have your armor or weapons on you. Men andwomen in loose grey clothes move from bed to bed, checking on eachpatient. Many of them have stylized birds embroidered on theiroutfits. (Knowledge Religion to recognize the symbol)


    A Woman in a similarloose grey outfit notices you’re awake and addresses you. '



    How do you respond?





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    "Coca-" Onik trailed off attempting to physically shake the fog free from his mind. "I said I wanted to party but..." Slowly revelation rolled in like gentle waves in high tide.

    "Where? Am? I?" the uncertainty palpable with ever word questioning the last before itself. A half octave higher then higher again Onik decided before he even finished the question that it was the wrong one to ask and yet some ancestral predisposition urged it anyway.

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    Rose sits up and surveys the room of people Authentic Forum Dice-rollKnowledge (religion) - (1d20-2) [2] and tries to get their attention "Excuse me...where am I?" She asks in Sylvan.

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    As a statue, Iayabrin had looked like a human frozen in a last desperate attempt to cast a spell. Now, back to her normal coloration, Iayabrin looked around herself with pale, iridescent eyes. Her metallic copper hair fell in a fine tangled bed head to her shoulders and her skin looked like a moderately tanned human with perfectly clear skin except for branching lines of the same metallic copper as her hair flowing in long arcs across her flesh. Tall enough that she barely fit the bed, lithe and almost fragile-looking with her delicate features, Iayabrin didn't look quite as human anymore.

    Iayabrin flexed her fingers and tensed and untensed the muscles of her body, feeling stiff and sluggish, causing her to grimace in annoyance at the sensations. When she heard a woman of what she presumed were the medical staff of the place speak she froze in confusion. Iayabrin certainly wasn't fluent in every language out there, but she had always been at least able to recognize by the sound of it what language was being spoken, if not the contents. These words sounded nothing like anything she had ever heard before. They did sound the same as the man who spoke, who sounded about as confused as she felt. At least the, well, she wasn't sure what it was, the person-looking plant, spoke with words she could understand. "I am wondering the same thing." She responded in that language.

    To the people in grey she said, in the common she had been raised with, "What is going on?" Then she hesitated, doubtful they would understand her if she couldn't understand them, and repeated the simple sentence in Celestial, Draconic and Elven. There must be someone who could understand at least one of those languages, right? Maybe not the Celestial, but the other two at least.



    Authentic Forum Dice-rollKnowledge (religion) - (1d20+3) [9]
    Every sweet has it's sour: Every evil it's good ~Emerson
    Honor the TRICKSTER For you would make a good squeaky toy
    I create worlds as a hobby. Does that make me a goddess?

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    More voices rose and Onik grew closer to the exit of the labyrinthine mystery of who, what, where and why.

    "Ah, I see." He nodded in lazy recognition before returning his head to the pillow. "Nevermind I think I understand. They... Maybe not so much? I do think I heard elvish however, and draconic? If it helps."

    Onik offered up what little insight he had before shifting on his side into a more comfortable sleeping position. "I'll just get a little nap in, uh- all praises to Sheara." his tone seemed slightly placating, clearly he wasn't a devote but appreciated the escape from certain doom none the less. He just couldn't be bothered to exert himself much more than that.

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    Beren sits up as soon as she's able, back straight as a rod. The tall, brawny woman combs her thick black hair back as well as she's able with her fingers and then smooths her tunic. She's been listening to the conversation around her, but not much of it makes much sense. She could understand the copper-haired stranger, but wonders why she's using such an old dialect of common. Perhaps the woman had taught herself by reading the Classics? Anyways, she clearly didn't know what was happening either.

    Sweeping her gaze over the healers and her fellow patients, Beren speaks calmly and clearly to the room at large.

    "Be there any folk in this masyndewe who doth speken the comune langage? I woulde als konne by what aventure I han fallen a-monge this company."

    Last edited by RealWittyAlias; 08-26-2020 at 05:27 PM.

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    Roun's dark eyes pop open and he sniffs air of the room. Quickly realizing that he's not sure where he is or how he got here, much less what happened to his clothes, he tries to leap out of bed. This results in his falling flat on his face, having not worked his leg muscles in a very long time. As he struggles to get back to his feet, or at least back onto the bed, he shouts in Common from the Age of Strife, "What the bloody heck is going on here?!? Where'd that bloody giant chicken get to? I'm not done with him yet! AND where are MY clothes?"
    "Behold I have become Death, Destroyer of worlds."
    Quote Originally Posted by D&D Basic Rules, Altered by me
    Disclaimer: [Your DM, TTW and] Wizards of the Coast [are] not responsible for the consequences of splitting up the party, opening hidden coffins, shaking up or mixing unfinished alchemical potions, throwing a stick past a werewolf and yelling "Fetch!", angering a dragon of any variety, or saying yes when the DM asks, “Are you really sure?”

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    Coming to the realization that she is currently in a place of healing, Roses' body shifts and twists within itself as the vines that make up her body align, allowing her to reach into herself Authentic Forum Dice-rollgood berry - (2d4) [2] pulling out some berries and offering them to those working and running around. "Food" she says simply in Sylvan, the leaves making up her face shift to make a smile.

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    Beren eases herself out of bed and strides towards Roun, offering him a hand. If he accepts she hauls him to his feet.

    "Ah, yea, the fowl. What bycome of hem?" she asks. "I mot maken an accompt of the battle for my lord."
    Last edited by RealWittyAlias; 08-26-2020 at 05:58 PM.

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    The woman tries using a mixture of simple words and gestures to communicate. She also gestures to one of her fellow healers who translates into Elvish.

    "You must all be from different times or ages. We found you all in a cockatrice's den, as stone. Much of your clothing was destroyed by the ravages of time. What survived of your clothing and gear is being held for you at the front desk. We will make sure you have food and drink. You are in the Republic of Arathain, in the city of Thrallsong. The date is the 24th of Pluqua in the year 855. I suppose if you're from the era of Suncoast, the year would be in the 3000s."

    She speaks to the other healers, one of whom leaves and comes back with pitchers of water and tureens of stew.

    (Knowledge: Geography, Knowledge: History)





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    Waving away the offered hand, Roun punches each of his legs once, as a warning to cooperate, then bounces up to his feet. Still looking a little wobbly he poses confidently. Looking around the room, he turns back to Beren. "At least ye doth speech the propire tongues. Tis nigh unbearable. Forsooth from whence ye came?"
    "Behold I have become Death, Destroyer of worlds."
    Quote Originally Posted by D&D Basic Rules, Altered by me
    Disclaimer: [Your DM, TTW and] Wizards of the Coast [are] not responsible for the consequences of splitting up the party, opening hidden coffins, shaking up or mixing unfinished alchemical potions, throwing a stick past a werewolf and yelling "Fetch!", angering a dragon of any variety, or saying yes when the DM asks, “Are you really sure?”

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    "55 huh?" Onik chuckled softly to himself and nestled into the the pillow. A mere beat passed before he sprung up his mass and height finally on display, the boy must have giant in the blood.

    "FIFTY-FIVE! I've got to go." he starts to rush out when the stew arrived and his stomach reminded him it's been years since his last meal. "then again it's been a few years what's a little longer." He tries to get two servings and chat up a healer on current events.
    Last edited by No Body; 08-26-2020 at 07:23 PM.

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    The brow of the black kobold knit together as he looks from person to person, apparently not finding whatever it is, its squeaky voice finally sounds out in mild suspicion, "You lot ain't the masters..." it sits up in the oversized bed, fighting against the excessive (to a kobold) bedding.

    As they discuss the cockatrice, "Were there any others you found with the cock... cuckatrica... Big chicken?" he doesn't wait for an answer before getting his own bowl of the stew, and gobbling it down greedily as he watches both patients and healers.


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    Pulling off his cotton top and throwing it to the bed, Roun strides forward suspiciously to look at the tureen of stew. After seeing others eating it to no obvious ill effects, he pours himself a bowl. After tasting it he quickly finishes the entire bowl before going back for a 2nd helping. All while wearing just the cotton pajama pants and a look daring anyone to object to his shirt-less state.
    "Behold I have become Death, Destroyer of worlds."
    Quote Originally Posted by D&D Basic Rules, Altered by me
    Disclaimer: [Your DM, TTW and] Wizards of the Coast [are] not responsible for the consequences of splitting up the party, opening hidden coffins, shaking up or mixing unfinished alchemical potions, throwing a stick past a werewolf and yelling "Fetch!", angering a dragon of any variety, or saying yes when the DM asks, “Are you really sure?”

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    3000? No, over just 3000, it sounded like. Iayabrin pushed herself slowly into a sitting position, no longer seeing anything around her though her eyes were open, then pulled up her knees, wrapped her arms around them and buried her face against her knees, turning herself into a hyperventilating ball. Everyone was dead. Her parents, her siblings, her friends, all dead. They never found her. What had they done after she disappeared? How long before they realized something had happened? Or did they think she had run away? That she hadn't wanted to be found? Had her younger siblings grown up and had families of their own? Had they told their children of their missing older sister? Had they been stories of worry and grief, or anger and betrayal? This was not how you were supposed to live to see the future!

    Iayabrin did not entirely stay silent, a faint high pitched keening could be heard if close enough to be noticed over the general noise of the room. No, it was something other than sound that was more easily noticed. Alternating waves of heat and cold emanated a couple of arms lengths from the now highly emotional sorcerer and a glow that was barely visible in the well-lit room seemed to surround her.
    Every sweet has it's sour: Every evil it's good ~Emerson
    Honor the TRICKSTER For you would make a good squeaky toy
    I create worlds as a hobby. Does that make me a goddess?

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    With a shuffle of the leaves of her face, Rose eats one of the berries herself, seeing as she did not want to impose on the others eating their food at this time.

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    Sniffing the air once more, Roun glances at the crying, humming person before following his nose to the plant person. Crouching down to stare closely at the berry left in Rose's hand Roun mutters half to himself, "Now that smells wonderful... what kind of bearry is that?!"
    "Behold I have become Death, Destroyer of worlds."
    Quote Originally Posted by D&D Basic Rules, Altered by me
    Disclaimer: [Your DM, TTW and] Wizards of the Coast [are] not responsible for the consequences of splitting up the party, opening hidden coffins, shaking up or mixing unfinished alchemical potions, throwing a stick past a werewolf and yelling "Fetch!", angering a dragon of any variety, or saying yes when the DM asks, “Are you really sure?”

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    Rose offers her remaining Berry to the much taller human. The berry appeared to be approximately one inch round and purple, "Is...good flavor", she smiles, her face leaves mimicking joy.

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    "I hail from Aravan, the greatest of the Free Isles," Beren responds to Roun. "From where do you come?"

    Beren stands with an impassive face as she listens to the Elven translation of their predicament. She continues to stand impassively for a few moments afterwards. One might almost think she'd been turned into a statue again. Finally she nods her head curtly. She turns to Roun and gives him a translation of the translation she heard. Then she strides towards one of the clerics who was speaking Elvish.

    "I am Lady Beren Tabak of Aravan," she says. "After I eat and collect my things I shall require information about the lineage of Lord Firat Birol. He set me a task before I succumbed to the foul cockatrice. I presume Lord Birol perished long ago, so when I finish my quest I shall return the prize to his remaining descendants instead."

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    Roun takes the offered berry, not entirely understanding but figuring that anything smelling that good can't be bad. Plus the plant girl had eaten one herself. Then it finally sinks in everything Beren had been saying to him. He pops the berry into his mouth and slowly chews it as he thinks things over. "Mmm...not bad. Make a good pie. Guess that means everyone I knew is probably dead and gone. Least I don't have to worry about that crazy monk coming after me any more." He shrugs unconcernedly.

    He doesn't bother waiting for Beren to finish her conversation with the cleric before interrupting. "My village was burned when I was still too young ta have learned tha name. Nowhere else really counted as home. Thanks for translating all that, little though it meant to me. Suppose I owe ya one now." He then turns to wander towards the door.
    "Behold I have become Death, Destroyer of worlds."
    Quote Originally Posted by D&D Basic Rules, Altered by me
    Disclaimer: [Your DM, TTW and] Wizards of the Coast [are] not responsible for the consequences of splitting up the party, opening hidden coffins, shaking up or mixing unfinished alchemical potions, throwing a stick past a werewolf and yelling "Fetch!", angering a dragon of any variety, or saying yes when the DM asks, “Are you really sure?”

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