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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Kobold Stew" data-source="post: 9268643" data-attributes="member: 23484">Miss Imogen is nauseated with a sudden headache, clutching her head with her soft hands. She notices a loose thread and moves to bite it off, only to realize that it is part of her wrist. "Weed?" she asks, as she looks around for her companion. This strange space, disorienting. "What's happened?" she asks. Instinctively she reaches her right hand behind to her backpack, and reaches for the small Chultan doll she had been given so many months ago. She feels is squirming, avoiding her grasp as if it has come alive but cannot escape the strap under whcih it is tied. She is almost afraid to look at it, in case it has become a small, fleshy thing like she had been but moments before. Her bow is soft, felted, floppy. She feels lost. She calls for her companions. "Are you there? Anyone?"</blockquote>