Phaeton's Falcons

[s@squ@tch]

Deric Moonbeam Wizard 2 hp: 11/11

Deric wakes up, mutters to himself,"Man, I need to be more careful in what I snort off of a hooker's @ss in a bathroom stall. I could have sworn I was like a wizard dude -- in a warehouse with some people, and I was slittin' peoples throats and casting magic spells."

He then gets up, showers, and puts on his Taco Bell uniform and drives into work.

When he gets there, he notices his manager, Karl, is already waiting at the register drumming his fingers on the counter. Karl screams at Deric -- "You were supposed to be here 2 hours ago! Whats the deal man? Don't make me fire you again!"

Deric just didn't need to be hassled by the man again today. His parents were already thinking of kicking him out of their basement again, for something not really his fault -- he can't control everyone who comes over to play Xbox with him. Just because the guy was plastered and walked into his parents bedroom, and slipped into bed with his mom... It wasn't like he was gonna do anything.. besides feel her up. They're just being crazy.

So Deric sidestepped his manager, told him he was sorry for the mix-up -- he thought he was on the afternoon shift, and then took his spot near the tortillas.

 

[Blind Azathoth]

Roland groans as he awakens with a searing pain in his eyes and thudding pains in his head and chest. "What... what's goin' on?" he manages to croak, eyes slowly grinding open. "W...why are my words green?"

A young, dark-haired man in a white coat hovers above Roland. "Ah, Mr. Hawkling, you're awake. Good. My name is Dr. Clayton Obarsky, and this is Cormyr County Hospital. Do you know why you're here, Roland?"

"What...no... I don't remember anything," Roland replies, groggily. "No...wait. Where's the warehouse? The gnome? The woman with the...polearm...thing..."

Dr. Obarsky raises an eyebrow. "I'm afraid I don't know anything about any warehouse. Do you remember the incident in the coffee shop, Mr. Hawkling?"

Roland closes his eyes and slowly shakes his head.

"You were in a coffee shop downtown when you began...well...touching people, and shouting you were curing their wounds. You seemed rather insistent that they were 'light' wounds, as well. Many of the customers were very frightened by your outburst, and a young woman took it rather personally when you began attempting to cure wounds apparently inflicted on her... upper torso, shall we say."

Roland opens his eyes for the express purpose of blinking in confusion at the doctor.

"She sprayed you in the face with a can of mace. That would be the burning you should be feeling on your eyes. Her companion also rather zealously rose to her defense and proceeded to beat the crap out of you before calling the authorities. That would be the soreness...all over your body. And speaking of the authorities, this is Officer Milo."

The face of a rather scrawny police officer drifts into Roland's view. The cop smiles. "Evening, Mr. Hawkling."

"Evening?" Roland says tiredly. "Yes. We broke into the warehouse in the evening..."

Milo chuckles. "Broke into a warehouse, eh? Well, we'll have to talk about that too a little later, Mr. Hawkling."

"The good officer was just leaving," Dr. Obarsky says, ushering Milo out. "We're keeping you overnight for observation to make certain your injuries are not so severe. He'll be back tomorrow to talk with you, and then...well...we may have to go see a different kind of doctor upstairs," he says, and Milo chuckles and makes a "crazy" gesture with his finger before disappearing out of the room. "But you just rest for now, Mr. Hawkling. Your dinner will be in soon. Here, let me turn off the lights...probably be easier on your eyes."

The room now darkened, Dr. Obarsky disappears.

"Something," Roland observes to thin air, "is very wrong here. And why are my words green?"

* * *

As Nurse Tymora pushes open the door to Roland Hawkling's room, she smiles artificially and says cheerfully, "Chicken tonight, Mr. Hawkling. Like chicken?"

Then her eyes settle upon Roland's bed—Roland's empty bed—before drifting to the open window.

"Aw, crap."

* * *

Roland flees into the night, limping slightly as he crosses a darkened street near the hospital. He was pretty sure he hadn't hurt anything too severely in the leap from the second floor, and his legs weren't screaming in pain whenever he took a step, so they were probably not broken. Sure, it had been a risk jumping out of a second story window, but he had calculated the chance of breaking a limb and found it to be in his favor, and sure enough he had escaped with little more than what felt like a sprain. Besides, he had to find out what was going on--had to find the others.

"Still not sure how I got this thing off, though," he muses aloud as he glances at the handcuff attached to his wrist, the other end of which had simply slipped off the bed when he pulled against it. "Guess the lock was malfunctioning. Or maybe I'm just lucky..."

He laughs quietly and runs on.

 

[scranford]

Icklebad Moffet - Gnome Rogue

Well maybe this is a dream, but that sure looks like Roland laying there in that white bed sleeping. And this is the weirdest temple of healing he has ever been in. If only he could remember what happened when he descended into that trap door. Must have been a dooozy of a spell. Maybe it was a gate to another dimension. That would explain the weird clothing on the humans attending Roland. Regardless he was getting cramps from hiding behing that white curtain. Stealtly he moved to Roland's side, and noticed that the strange shackles holding him to the bed were not that difficult to unlock. He quietly unlocks the strange shiney bracers, then moves to the window, slips it open, and climbs down the side of the strange building.

Its so noisy. and these strange mechanical beasts with glowing eyes seemingly zipping around with no purpose... Wait that beast just stopped and regurgitated a human. Icle began to feel light headed. Where was he? how could he get home? Ickle took cover behind the large metal box which seemed to be holding a dead Otyugh or something equally disgusting. Dare he lift the lid made of some strange material...No it might not be completely dead. Better he hide for the time being and try to rest and get a better idea of where he was.

Wait sudden movement at Roland's window. A sudden plummet to the strange rock surface, and Roland was off running albeit with a slight limp. Perhaps I'll trail him for a while... maybe he knows what is going on... whoops that strange white garment he is wearing dosen't offer much protection from the rear. Oh well I'll trail him for a while anyway.

Roland runs down a side street lit up with some strange light sources of many colors, dodgeing the strange metal beasts as he goes. Wait what is that strange building ahead. The smells from it remind him he hasn't eaten all day. It almost smells edible, and that brightly lit sign with the strange runes almost is shaped like a bell. He moves to the large window for a closer look, keeping Roland in sight as he moves around some of the metal beasts. "Is that Deric in there with some strange out fit on?" This is getting stranger by the momemt.

 

[ethandrew]

Waking up on some soft, damp ground Livingston opens his eyes with the pang of a strong headache. Above him is the darkness of the night sky, though littered with a cosmology he does not recognize?

Sitting up slightly, he mutters aloud, "Where am I? Last I remember, we were all arguing, and now I'm under the stars... although they are not the normal stars I grew up under."

He braces his hands on the ground, feeling the blades of grass tickle between his fingers. Looking down, he notices all of his gear is gone, but most importantly, the stark reality hits him squarely in his heart belaying the fact of his harsh disconnect with his father patron Kelemvor. Frantically, Livingston looks around side to side, trying to get any bearings, uttering a small prayer as he does such.

"Kelemvor, my god of reckoning, shed light on my plight and my standing with you. I cannot feel your warmth, your compassion. I have given my life for you, obeyed your priests and followed your word, why do you abandon me?" a slow trickle of tears decend down his cheek. He wipes with his wrist, wrenching his eyes tightly shut. Weeping quietly, he whispers meekly, "Why do you abandon me?"

He gathers his composure and stands up on his two bare feet. The wetness of the grass leaves each subsequent step a little unstable. Turning around in a small circle after a few steps, he spies light in the distance. Walking slowly, still rubbing his eyes, he hears noises loud and foreign above his head, like loose wheels on a thousand carts. Looking up, he spies red, white, and blue lights flashing across the sky, the obvious source of the noise.

Following his feet, he slowly heads toward this small lit-up building. He has never seen lights such as these, either candles or magic. Through the many large windows, light rains out into the night, illuminating the surrounding grounds. Looking around at these strange metallic constructs silently resting on this stone ground, he recognizes the first face he sees.

Uncontrollably he sobs and wails, "IIIIIIIICKLE!"

 

[scranford]

ickle

Ickle stands behind the miraculous window waving and trying to get Deric's attention. Suddenly he notices a couple of human children pointing at him and laughing. Did he have something on his face? Then he realized...Everyone he had seen so far in this dimension was human. His roguish instincts took over and he pulled away from the window, to reduce any attention payed to him... when he heard someone wail out his name.

From out of the darkness came Livingston looking much worse for the wear. Ickle decided to use his ghost sound ability to draw attention away from the pair so they could talk, but noticed he seemed unable to draw forth his innate magical energy. Was this dimension berefit of magic as well as non-humans. He quickly gestured for Livingston to calm down, and join him in the alley running beside the brightly lit resturant.

"I saw Roland heading that way". "He was moving too fast for me even with a limp". "See if you can catch him, and meet with me over there". He says pointing at the metal box that contained the foul smell. "I'll try to get Deric's attention another way".

Ickle then moved to the rear of the building. This locking mechanism didn't look so hard.

 

[ethandrew]

After heeding Ickle's words, Livingston turns heels and trails after Roland's path.

"Roland!! Roland where are you?" Livingston shouts into the night.

Scanning the horizon, he notices building surrounded by meticulously laid-out streets, manicured with stone melded together. Impressed by the grandeur of this place, he spots a streak of linen and exposed flesh cross his line of sight.

"Oh! Roland!! Hey, c'mere, it's Livingston!" he shouts as he runs off hoping to catch him before his long legs move him further away.

 

[s@squ@tch]

Deric Moonbeam Taco Bell Employee 2. Hp: 11/11

Deric is having the worst shift of his life. He keeps on having odd memories of these people he was "adventuring". A gnome, a woman with a large oedipus complex, err, halberd, and some other humans.

"Damn," Deric yells,"That damn nacho cheese gun burned me again. That is like molten lava!"
Deric goes back to making a chalupa for some goth high school kid. Again, his mind wanders off to that strange dream -- it seemed so real. He'd really like to be there instead of slinging numerous combinations of meat, cheese, beans and sour cream.

"I just know the Karl is going to ask me to close tonight. That's just bull," Deric mutters to himself, "I don't need this. If I have to scrub another plugged up toilet that those damn goth kids messed with, I'm gonna crack."

He goes back to making a taco supreme and zones out.

 

[Blind Azathoth]

Roland blinks, slowing his quick hobble when he hears the sound of a familiar voice. He turns and lays eyes on Livingston.

"Oh, by Tymora, is it good to see you," Roland cries, moving toward the other priest. As he does so he suddenly stops, however, and glances down at himself, noting for the first time the sorry condition of the rather small robe he wears--and its strange opening in the back. "Oh dear. A moment, please... I would suggest averting thy eyes." And with a few quick motions, Roland repositions the hospital gown to more fully cover his lower body, though this leaves his torso bare.

"You may look again," Roland notes, if Livingston did indeed glance away. "Now, brother, tell me: do you have any idea what is going on? I woke up in a strange place, full of white walls and white floors and men in white coats... I escaped from them and a member of their city watch, who believed I was a criminal of some kind... needless to say, I am quite confused. Have you seen any of the others?"

 

[ethandrew]

After covering his eyes while Roland repositions his robe of sorts, Livingston quickly replies, "I have no idea where we are, it must be some sort of capital city in a land I know not of, probably near Waterdeep or some other large metropolis! But like you I awoke in a place I did not recognize. Here, follow me," Livingston leads Roland back to the location Ickle had told him to rendezvous. "Fortunately for me, I ws under the night's sky, not apprehended as a criminal. After wandering a bit, I found Ickle, who sent me after you. Otherwise, I have no idea where Deric, Vyleya, or Gurv are, even if they were teleported along with us or not."

Noticing Roland's limp, Livingston stops and looks up at the man. "I never could harness the power to heal, and actually, to be perfectly honest, as a priest to a priest, my connection with Kelemvor seems to be blocked somehow. But I do know non-magical remedies. I could probably splint your leg or figure some other method as to the source of your limp."

The two continue to walk and hide behind the hideously smelling metal box.

 

[scranford]

ickle

Ickle springs the surprisingly easy lock and opens the door a crack looking in. He seems to be in a small hallway of some sort with a door on the right, two doors on the left, and a large metal door with a strange locking mechanism inset into a small opening to his immediate right. He hears voices, and strange beeps and whirs coming from the brightly lit front of the building. There seems to be a clothing rack of some sort right in front of him with several of the strange uniforms he saw Deric wearing. Sliding into the shadows he grabs the smallest of the uniforms and puts it on. It smells strangely like some kind of cooking grease, and the material is one he does not recognize, but its better and less conspicuous than the white smock he had been wearing. It was still too large for him and drug the ground a bit, but after rolling up the sleeves it would do.

He steps closer to the front and notices Deric standing over some same contraption, which seems to be torturing him. He touched the machine then drew back his hand with a gasp of pain, exclaiming excitedly in some unknown tongue. Ickle surpressed the impulse to rush to his companions aid since he seemed to be OK, and besides he liked the guy well enough, but he liked his own hide better. He looked into a box of some strange material next to him on a shelf made somehow of wire, and pulled forth some packets made of a material similar to the lid on the foul smelling box, but much thinner. Inside was some strange green liquid. He opened one of the pouches, and took a big whiff. Surprised at the potent aroma of the liquid inside, he had to surpress a sneeze. PIcking a likely hiding spot he filled his pockets with this strange liquid, and waiting till nobody else was looking began to lob the small packets one at a time towards Deric's back; hoping to get his attention.