My second bio, if it's alright! I know it's a little late... but I had fun trying to figure out which chracter to use...

Name: Vondell Correl
Gender: male
Race: human
Age: 22
Profession: bard/haper
Appearance: http://i54.photobucket.com/albums/g111/ ... uff007.jpg
Weapons: plain wooden bow, <a href="http://droolingwolf.deviantart.com/art/Dagger-27191595">tripple bladed dagger thing</a>
Equipment: pipes, flute, collapseable harp(like in picture), family crest as a gold necklace which is a dagger sticking through a rose in full bloom.
Brief history/other*: Grew up in a family of bards, rose in the ranks starting with apprentice, then up to masterbard, which he became at age 19, then started traveling at 20. Vondell can sing, tell stories and peoms, play pipes, flute, guitar, harp, drums, tamborine, lute, and lyre. And also had excellent memorizing skills.
Description of original universe:

How you came up with this character: I just came up with him, I guess... *is tired*

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cold night air was chill. Vincent had his red cloak pulled tightly around him for warmth. He slowly walked along the narrow path through a thicket. The trees were so close, that there was no hope of making camp tonight. So he kept walking. His destination was a small town that was home to some of the oldest spell books known, and Vincent wanted to have a look at them.

There was a rustling in the brush to his left. With a tired groan, he slowley turned to find himself looking down at a good sized boar. Mad white breath came from it's nostrils, and got ready to charge at the druid.

But before the boar could take one step, the druid said a word under his breath and tapped his staff on the ground. Then everything went black for Vincent. If anyone walked down that path they would find a corpse of a boar aflame with crymson fire, and footsteps that suddenly stopped.

Vincent opened brown eyes to look up at a green canopy. For a long moment he couldn't move, and had no sence of smell, hearing, or feel. But after a moment they slowly returned to him. The bad taste in his mouth, and the throbbing headache told Vincent that he had just experienced a semi-successful mass transeportation spell.

He made a mental note to knock the dolt who did this over the head a few times when he met him. Slowly he sat up, then a little slower stood up. His head was swimming a little, be he could still think straight. Looking around he found his staff, and leaned on it.

Around him were a strange assortment of people. Some unconciouss, others having fun with headaches as well. They must also be the ones that went through the transeportation spell. Some looked better off than others.

Vincent hobbled over to the closest standing people, which seemed to be the only standing people.
"Excuse me, good sirs, but would any of you know where we are, by chance? I'd understand if none of you did," he said slowely, eyeing the man with the weapon...

_________________

(}--{)Imagination Inspires Ideas -Zandain(}--{)
Married Cloud Strife 9/17/08

Raignheidra Terhin was used to compromise. She was accustomed to not getting her way, and just as accustomed to persevering until she did. Seventeen years as a princess and six more as an exiled outlaw had a way of teaching one certain skills.

The hard pommel of a navy commander's scimitar hadn't brooked compromise, however. There had been little warning, even fewer moments to react, and no opportunity for negotiation; in fact, it had been the type of event Raign detested most: unlooked for, unwelcome, and completely indefensible.

The deck had swung up to meet her. Raign remembered intense irritation mitigated by sudden dizziness, and then alarm, before multicolored lights swam in front of her vision. "Valtair," she murmured in her sleep, fingers groping for the jade-inlaid hilt of her scimitar. "Cannons...to port..."

A hairpin, come half undone from her neat crown of dark braids, jabbed the back of her head, awakening a pounding headache. Raign's fingers found the hilt of her scimitar and she rolled over, momentarily stiffening in surprise at the prickle of grass against her skin. On guard now, she unsheathed the weapon and sprang to her feet in one practiced, fluid motion.

The result was anticlimactic. A jay trilled from the nearest lush tree; sunlight dappled in mingled shadows on an intensely green forest floor. Raign raised her eyes to a brilliant periwinkle sky. Grass stains marked the knees of her breeches, and there was a tiny lizard clinging to one boot. It was a mark of how much her head was pounding that Raign stared at that lizard for a full ten seconds.

A sound jerked her out of her bewildered reverie. In precisely a second and a half, Raign had whirled and strode into the nearest clearing, rapidly assimilating the presence of several more people. She didn't care who they were or why they were here, but none were any she'd met, and Raign did not care to meet them now. Be they navy or army - and by the seas they could be anyone, but she would find out the reason for this.

Ignoring the last inquiry, by a robed man, she sheathed her blade with a ring of steel on steel, and folded her arms. A scan of the upright figures revealed none who appeared more enlightened than herself. "By the name of every god in the Isles," said Raign, slowly, "if nobody cares to indicate in which direction I may find my ship and crew, then kindly explain why not."

-----

Merrin was trying very hard not to panic. She'd been up a short rise, to stare in bewilderment at the white, shell-studded beach, she'd surveyed the jade-green ocean beyond, and even the intensely azure sky was as unfamiliar as the sinous green snake that whispered through the grass by her feet. Even her dragon failed to answer her frequent mental entreaties. Perhaps that disturbed her the most.

Pressing her fingers to her lips and tearing along every line of logic that presented itself, Merrin walked slowly down the incline again, and ducked under cover of the verdant palm trees. Commander Thorone would have scolded her for forgetting the rapier at her belt; more than four years of weapons training and even now she forgot to draw the blade, if only to hold at the defensive. She clung to the recollection, unsheathing her sword if only to provide some mental stability. Other - entirely abstract - observations presented themselves. Her cloak was proving very hot. The air was warm and very nearly muggy. She wasn't at all sure that those weren't voices.

As wary as the model dragonrider trainee she aspired to, Merrin stole past several more thick groves of trees, and paused at the edge of a slightly larger clearing. She could see one figure, his back turned, and somehow the sight of that one did very little to assuage her worries. He was a tall man holding a weapon. At first sight this was not so very bad, but the aura that permeated the air around him made the hair stand up on the back of her neck. Merrin hesitated and shrank back into the protective cover of the greenery, ashamed of her cowardice but at an utter loss.

Eventually, she mustered the courage to steal past a few broad treetrunks and hover at the edge of the clearing, uncertain as to whether she should announce her presence. "There isn't a ship," she managed to respond cautiously to the last words she head, and the woman who had just spoken swiveled to appraise her.

Merrin stepped out, giving herself up for lost. "I looked at the ocean," she added, marginally more confident. "I - I'm certain it wasn't there."

_________________

Not many animals were stirring in the woods as Ashraem crept among the trees, his bow in one hand.<i> Could be the weather.</i> he thought, glancing at the cloudy, rain-heavy sky. Maybe he hadn’t picked the best time to hunt, but it was better than washing the dirty dishes that had accumulated over the last few days.

A few drops of rain spattered down among the leaves, turning quickly to a downpour that plastered Ash’s hair and clothes to his skin. He grimaced and turned to head back to his house. Maybe he could set the dishes outside and let the rain do some of the washing for him. After only four steps, though, his vision blurred, his head swam, and his knees buckled underneath him. <i>What in…?</i> he was unconscious before he could finish the thought.

Ash opened his eyes and squinted in the sudden rush of light. He stared in confusion as a brightly-plumaged bird swooped overhead against a brilliant blue sky. A poke in his back made him realize he was laying on top of his bow and quiver, and he pushed himself to his feet. Wiping wet hair out of his eyes, he stared around him. Wherever he was, it didn’t look like Kytana. And who were all these people?

Seeing a small group gathering, he made his way towards them. “Excuse me, but what’s going on?” Ash trailed off as he spotted a familiar face. “Jate?” A grin spread across his face. “You’re here too? It’s good to see you!” He clapped Jate on the shoulder. Glancing around at the rest of the group, he gradually assimilated their words. “Ocean? We’re by the ocean? Who are all of you, anyway?”

OOC: I decided not to bring in that other guy, he'd be a little over-powered for this, and changing him so he wouldn't would change him more than I'm comfortable with.

IC: Kayne slowly blinked his eyes open, and immediately regretted it. The harsh sunlight burned his retinas, a searing pain that complemented his throbbing head perfectly. He squinted until he became accustomed to the searing light and Kayne slowly realized he as staring at a canopy of trees. Must be in a park, he though. I must have fallen off my bike into a park. That made no sense of course, as his last memory before this place was of speeding away from a vampire bike gang on his own motorcycle in downtown Los Angeles, but the human brain makes incredibly stupid rationalizations when confronted with impossible situations.

He stood, intent on figuring out where in LA he was, but got to his feet way, way too fast. Half way up, he swooned and face planted into the grass in a very undignified fashion. 'Ouch' was the sole thought that entered his mind. His mind dimly realized that his staff, one of his magical foci, was laying on the ground next to him. So this time, being the intelligent trial-and-error kinda guy, he used the staff to help him to his feet.

He swooned again, but managed to remain upright by sheer determination (and the willing aid of a nearby tree). His head felt like someone had tried to cave it in with a baseball bat, and trust him; he knew exactly what that felt like. A few months ago, a pack of ghouls came into town and started causing trouble, mainly by eating people, because that's what ghouls do. They eat you. But while tailing said ghouls, one of them snuck up behind him a decided his head should be good friends with the side of a baseball bat. Kayne ended the night with a splitting headache, a mild concussion, and a bunch of charred ghouls. Oh, and a few burned buildings, but he likes to forget about that.

Kayne patted himself down, checking that all his equipment was still on his person. To his dismay, it wasn't. His scimitar was still sheathed at his hip and all his magic foci and enchanted items were still on him, but his Desert Eagle, usually holstered at his right side, was missing. He searched the ground around himself with his eyes, not using his hands for fear of collapsing on his face again and he wished to preserve whatever dignity he had left.

"I'm...a guy with a really, really big headache," Kayne said, still leaning heavily on his staff. The wooziness was beginning to fade, but he didn't want to risk attempting to stand on his own just yet. "And why is there an ocean next to a park in LA?" he said, his brain still attempting to tell him he was in a Los Angeles park somewhere.

_________________
Four Gods wait on the windowsill,
Where once eight Gods did war and will,
And if the Gods themselves may die,
What does that say for you and I?

Now, three Gods wait on the windowsill
Where one God's blood was lately spilled
While black tongues lap at the spreading pool
And build the strength they need to rule.

(Btw LDM about my chars profile, forget the part where it says that he is from this universe cause it`ll just be more interesting if he`s from FR)

The cursed sun burned bright above him, teasing him and making him sneer at it for cursing him. Quietly he grasped the final bottle of water, which he had still left on this journey and hoped, that it wouldn`t be the last bottle of water he would ever grasp to. Sand, endless mounds of sand enveloped him and surrounded him to every direction on the horizon. Maybe splitting up from the mage had not been the best choice after all, he had a stubborn and not to mention vicious character yet he did have his uses. At least he might have had way to cover them from their wretched weakness under the giant ball of fire and even got them off the desert in a matter of moments. These the the thoughts and regrets of Xarw Meldi, an outcast drow trampling across the sands of Calimshan, alone due to an unfortunate set back to his last enterprise.

Apparently authorities at Calimport, a rotten den of thieves and rats all tough people preferred to be use the moniker `city`, had not taken too kindly having a drow operating in the region. For a while he had worked as an anonymous, masked assassins, but alas he just had to get greedy in all things. Not that he was poor or anything of the sort, but he had found something profitable than taking out thieves from rival guilds.

"Oh by Vhaeraun and Mask what I`d do to for an oasis"

He uttered from the bottom of his heart and dry throat, to his gods, which he had come to `worship`. Where others might have seen religion as some kind of a conduct for atonement or simply just some kind of respite or even power, Xarw saw an avenue for profit. After all the gods he served were the patron gods of thieves, drow and human, thus it seemed more than logical, that trough their religion making money would be seen favorable. However when you set up a small shrine for one of those gods and tend to make some money out of it whilst on the side involving yourself in slavery and assassinations, people tend to get envious. Also being an independent and mysterious entrepreneur in the big boys backyard, you are just going to invite the fangs of their dogs to bite you.

So in the end, he had set up a small slaughter party in his shrine for a number of thugs and assassins, needless to say, who walked out alive from that place. However as fate, a backstabbing *beep*, would have it his dark heritage was discovered at that time and knowing how much his head would fetch on the market, Xarw made a run for it. Yet the thieves of Calimport are rather well known for either their stupidity or stubbornness as they had not waited for the desert to claim him. Thanks to them he lost a number of his provisions and supplies, even his damned camel, but at least in return he had the cold satisfaction of chopping them up into little pieces. Of course except for one, their leader, whom he had nailed into the smelling carcass of the dead camel with poisoned crossbow bolts. It had been a laugh, but when you kill one man in such a method it just stops being funny after a while.

The man would die a slow and painful death, even, if anyone were to find him alone screaming in the desert for aid. Yet a merciful person would just thrust a blade into the poor thieves heart. A merciful god would give him a miracle and save his life, but alas he did not believe, that those two where nowhere near forgiving. Xarw casually tossed away the last, dry bottle of water before stopping for a while to gaze around. One moment his vision started to blur and he felt dizzy, he blinked his eyes as he tried hard to remain on his feet yet even they gave away against his will. Falling face first to the sand, he cursed and spat some out of his mouth.

He breathed heavily and brushed sweat off his obsidian dark forehead before stumbling up. One blink of his eyes and he was back on his feet again, but not where he had fallen. Beneath his feet there was sand, indeed, but this was not desert sand, it was that of a beach. For a moment Xarw gazed around at the ocean, which suddenly had appeared to his side and the waves, that splashed against his feet. Xarw managed to force a few words out of his dry throat as the situation all together seemed ridiculous to comment even to himself.

"Not what I had in mind"

Either he had gone insane, which would have not been a surprise to him at all or the gods had answered his calls yet in a very, very ironic way. Xarw felt like slapping himself across the face, but restrained himself and gazed behind him from where he heard sounds. Sounds, that unmistakably were speech and one`s that worried him, humans no doubt.

Out of pure curiosity, he approached and saw a rather varied mix of people gathered there on the same island as him. Yet he remained at a distance from them, examining. At least he had his hood on and he was cloaked in black clothes all together, even his studded leather armor was black and brown. Hopefully no one would pay attention to this strange, obsidian skinned elf.

_________________

Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

[Wow great posts everyone

LDM- you keep surprising me with your introductions! Brilliant!

Tur- sure! Let me see if I can make something up they can pop in together And Eru too if she likes ]

Tristan sat silently near to the small campfire. Eventhough it had been warm that day they built a fire, large enough to keep wild animals at a distant yet small enough not to attract the attention of evil eyes. It was dark and eventhough Tristan couldn't discern it, he could feel the cool damp which covered the land like a veil after dusk. The lively sounds of singing birds, a squirrel running down the tree or an occasional deer sprinting through the high grass had quietted down and was now replaced by the soft rustling of leaves and the regular breathing of his companions.

Some of them had objected to him keeping watch during the night, for a blindman keeping watch was indeed a strange contradiction but Eavan had argued it would be fine. After this long day no one actually felt like disagreeing with her so most of them fell asleep quickly.

Tristan kept his daggers close at hand for he felt that something wasn't right. Something in the air was looming like a threat.

Then it happened: it felt like the earth disappeared beneath his feet, like he was falling.. Eavan.. Tristan heard himself calling. Von.. what is happening?

[I'll just wait for Tur to enter the Realm ]

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O children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice,
Children, rejoice, rejoice..



It doesn't matter you don't believe in God, He believes in you.

"No," responded Merrin, stepping fully out from under cover of the trees, and sheathing her rapier. Many of the people standing there looked as bewildered as she, which was simultaneously reassuring and worrying. Wyvern, she mentally persisted, but still he gave no answer. "No, there's no ship."

The woman holding the slender scimitar strode across, glancing once at the tall man with the glaive, but clearly more concerned with what Merrin had or had not seen regarding her ship. "Raign Terhin," she introduced herself curtly. "You saw no rowboats, even, on the beach? My people -"

Merrin was already shaking her head. "There's nothing," she said, feeling as though she should be apologetic. "I - I did not look up and down the beach, I suppose, but there was nothing at sea."


Raign felt tempted to use several of the words she'd learned seafaring. This did not make sense. None of it. The people were completely foreign - the younger girl had a faint lilt to her voice, an accent Raign had never heard. She'd never seen this place before. That in itself was not disturbing - what was disturbing was that her ship was not here. And therefore, neither were her people.

She drew breath to make absolutely sure, but the girl extended a cautious hand. "My - my name's Merrin Dragonrider."

Raign's only response was a nod. She turned, expression set, and determination no less fueled. She would find out what was going on.

_________________

In order to avoid bothersome questions about his heritage and most of all to avoid any panic or swords being pointed at him, Xarw quietly slipped his hand into one of the many pouches attacked to his belt. He caught a piece of cloth between his fingers, that was tightly knit from leather and fine silk, it was dark gray from all sides, had two holes and a string attached to it. He quietly smirked as he flipped it around in his hands and began to raise it upwards, towards his face. Still maintaining his distance, he quickly placed the mask before his face and made sure it would hold. The only thing the mask revealed was his eyes, which omniously happened to be glimmering red as most of his kind possessed.

Well at least he might shroud himself in mystery despite his outwardly threatening appearance, which was bolstered by the nimble crossbow hanging on his back and the long sword on his belt. The mask itself was fashioned to be similar with the symbol of the shadowy god, whom he `served`. It had also been his vanguard against intruders and those curious as to what his true identity was. After taking a slow breath Xarw approached these humans, which made still somehow managed to make him uneasy. They usually weren`t clever, strong or particularly strong, but the sheer number of them gave him the chills. Like the drow, if humans were ever to be united under one banner they would be able to wreak colossal havoc upon the realms. There was no telling, who these people were, where their allegiances lied and whether they even knew what was going on. Judging by their acting and the looks on their faces they did not have the faintest clue, but at least they might amount to some use, getting off this island for example.

Yet all due time, he couldn`t get carried away just yet with thinking, that he might get away with this and there wouldn`t be a bloodshed. Xarw began walking towards the rest of them gathered, he didn`t look anyone in the eyes nor said a word. He simply at first walked amongst them, examining each one for a moment until deciding to approach a few of them. He made a simple greeting by raising his hand, an odd habit these humans tended to possessed, not that drow`s did not have greetings yet Xarw as a mercenary hardly ever `greeted` strangers. He slightly nudged his head to the left, smiling behind his mask all tough he hardly even remembered, that his mouth was covered.

"Greetings, I sense that the lot of you are equally confused as I, but might I inquired whether you are aware of a way off this island and if you do then would you care to show it to me? You see for a moment there I thought the sun had really gotten to me when I was trampling along the desert sands and then there is an ocean besides me...

Where are we anyway? Somewhere near Tethyr I hope?"

He inquired with an confused yet interested tone, the former was an act yet the latter was in fact not faked as this sudden change of events made him wonder what had truly come to pass. His red eyes flashed as he keenly kept an eye on everyone`s faces and the effect his words had on them. Perhaps inquiring the name of a nearby land would have an effect, if these people indeed knew where in the realms they were.

_________________

Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

Caution. Think before you act. One mistake - just one rash decision - can reveal yourself to the enemy. Her father's words reminded her all too clearly of the terrifying ambush in her dream. Ryairon inhaled deeply and tightened her grip on the ruby-studded hilt of her sword. Slowly the panic melted, and slowly the words of the people surrounding her registered with sharper clarity.

Some of them were talking and wondering, like her, what was going on. A group had already gathered. One young man looked like nobility. Another appeared to be a war mage with far too much time for styling his hair. Then there was the staff-bearing, blabbering one who likely had one drink too many last night. The others seemed ordinary enough, if a bit bemused. A voice rang out from the far end of the clearing, demanding for a ship. Nobility again. The young woman's garments presumed nothing, but her tone and stance said it all.

Observing the group and judging each individual in silence, Ryairon came to three conclusions. Firstly, all of them were just as clueless as she was and consequently provided little asset. Secondly, most of them were personages of distinguishment. She faced no rabble of ruffians or peasants, but people of rank or fighting prowess or both. Thirdly, this was the work of the very enemy her father had warned her against. But which enemy? The Dark Dominion or the Light? Whoever had teleported them here had to be a mage of considerable power. Where had the mage gone? Was he or she returning to deal with them later?

Something nagged at the back of her mind. Something unnatural, unexplained. Uncertain. She'd never liked mages. But instinct told her that mage or no mage, something was very, very wrong.

Worthless imbeciles, she thought, watching as her fellow captives made small talk and floundered in their bewilderment. Joining them would reveal her identity, and revealing her identity was folly. She needed time alone - time to analyze her predicament and plan. Quietly, she slipped out of the clearing.

The voices and people faded behind her, swallowed by the lazy drone of insects and the shrieks of birds in the bright green canopy. Stripes of sunlight and shadow barred her path. Creepers groped at her cloak. She snapped out a knife and slashed through the stubborn tangle of greenery. Where one vine or branch relented, another always sprang forth to take its place. The menial work diverted her attention, forced her mind away from the fatal uncertainty and - how she hated to admit it - fear.

She burst through the jungle and into a blinding outbreak of golden sun and azure ocean. The field of blue stretched forever into the white horizon. A glance up and down the beach confirmed what the other young woman had already pointed out - no ship in sight. Unless... what, exactly, was one's definition of "ship"?

As she neared, she concluded that under no circumstances could this boat be presumed to be a ship. The dinghy lay overturned at the edge of the shore, where foamy breakers lapped against its barnacle-incrusted sides. It wasn't heavy. Hooking her fingers under its rim, Ryairon flipped it over. The stench of rotten fish flooded her nostrils. She threw an arm over her nose and, breathing through the sleeve of her tunic, bent down to inspect the netted catch. It couldn't be more than a few days old.

She straightened and squinted harder down the curvature of the shoreline. In the distance... was that a dock? And houses? And people? Gravitating toward what cover the jungle provided, she began making her way toward them. The fishermen, preoccupied with loading the boats and pushing them out to sea, didn't notice her approach. Beyond them, their wives and children flitted in and out of the thatched huts.

Ryairon paused a hundred feet away. An ordinary fishing village. Should she approach? One of the men shouted at his comrades - words in some native dialect she didn't understand. She glanced back at the jungle, where she knew the other strangers waited. She should return. Clueless or not, a few of them might have information to share.

When she came into sight of the clearing again, following the trail she'd blazed earlier, nothing had changed. A masked figure with oddly pigmented skin was addressing everyone else. A few of them still hadn't gained consciousness yet.

Ryairon folded her arms across her chest and regarded her fellow captives while contemplating her options. She had no qualms about interrupting their individual conversations - her rank as future queen gave her that right and more. No... what concerned her was how much she should reveal, how much these men and women could be depended upon. It occurred to her, with a sting of irony, that her present predicament hardly gave her a choice.

Clearing her throat, she raised her voice over the general babble. "I went scouting down at the beach. Your ship, my lady," - she turned to Raign Terhin with a quirked eyebrow - "is nowhere to be found. However..." Her gaze brushed the simmering, crimson-eyed stare of the masked figure. She looked away. "However, I did find a fishing village. The inhabitants were speaking in a tongue that I could not translate. As far as I can tell, we're stranded on an island with no apparent route of escape. If any of you have something useful to point out, do so now."

_________________

(Now for my character's entrance...)

Kira shielded her eyes from the sun the moment after she nearly blinded herself. From what she could recall, she was lost, very lost. To took a few moments for her eyes to grow accustomed to the change in lighting, being that the Springs did not have such sun shining down in the mid of day. However, once accustomed, she could do nothing but take a bewildered look around to wonder what beach was anywhere near enough to the Springs to be suddenly laying on it. In fact, the only beach that came to mind at such the oppurtune time was that of coarse sand and a slightly sheltered sun. Kira has been there once before, around a year ago, when her friends told her it was the best thing ever made on earth. Blasted liars, she recalled, and, in her most logical thoughts, she could only blame them for making this to be some nasty prank in exchange for her wonderful, magnificient, and well thought out prank to them on the eve of last Halloween. However, with no sight of her car, that idea was quickly abonded for the thought that she, indeed, had no idea where she was.

--------------------------------------------------

Ruth Ann peered out from behind a tree onto the beach to see many Big Folk lulling around and just as lost at she was, although, after second thought, even more lost. Being in such prediciments before, Ruth Ann had grown accustomed to waking up in strange places. However, this time, she was joyful not to be bound or locked in some sorry excuse for a dungeon.

She was one of the first to wake up from unconciousness. She was able to recall one or two more wandering about on the beach, dazed and confused. However, once Ruth Ann woke up, she took a few moments to look around, but she soon retreated to her domain, the woods,in order to think through what had happened.

Now she was returning from such unproductive thoughts to hopefully grasp ahold of information someone else would have stored in their noggin. Her hopes soon faded once her ears caught the words of someone asking her very same question and ignorantly expected an answer.

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<center>

No one bothered to even try to answer his question. And since no one did, he assumed they didn't know. And then one by one people started coming from the jungle around the clearing, or waking up. The area started to become a little crowded with bewildered, foreign people.

Vincent remained silent for the time being, watching each person now. So, there were a few people here that seemed to be royalty. And did that one girl call herself dragonrider? And the man in the mask didn't seem human by his eyes.

"I have not heard of Tethyr. And where we are seems to be a tropical island in a world other than any one of our home worlds. I had heard of transeportation spells that could bring you to other worlds, but I hadn't thought it possible," the druid said, staring off into nowhere, hand grasping chin like was habit when in thought.

There was a fishing village on the island, and the inhabitants didn't speak this language that they now spoke. Vincent was amazed that the lot of them spoke the same language. They all certaintly had different cultures and clothing, that was stating the obvious.

~~~~~~~~

Vondell, eyes closed, was suddenly aware of a throbbing pain in his head. He brought a hand to sandy blonde hair, trying to subdue the pain, not like it worked. It felt like little men were using his brain as a soccerball, not that he knew what that felt like. Von then heard strange voices around him, and sat up abrutly. Too abrutly. He fell back down on the grass with a thud, head spinning.

Von didn't recall falling asleep on his back, or on a patch of grass. And hadn't Tristan been on watch when he had gone to sleep. Then it dawned on him that someone could have used his blindness as a chance to capture the group. That may explain the pain and possision.

But after a moment of listening to what the people were saying, all thoughts of that left his mind. Obvioussly he wasn't the only one that woke with a headache. Finally he opened his eyes to bright green canopy, and when the throbbing subsided after awhile, Von slowley stood up. The movement caused something under his shirt to squeel in protest. The bard looked down to watch his golden fire lizard crawl out of his shirt and to perch on his neck, propping herself up against his ear.

Why does my head hurt so much? Von heard Nelnya's thoughts in his mind.

I'm not sure. Something wierd is going on. But I think it would best to keep quiet for the time being and watch, he replied. Where he stood was a little ways off from the people standing around and looking confused. Though he couldn't tell if the man in the mask was confused or not because, well, he was wearing a mask.

Vonell checked himself up and down, seeing if he was missing anything. His pack, containing his harp and spare cloths were right beside him, like they had been when he fell asleep. He still had his weapons, and small belt pouch that held his two other instruments and maybe a herb or two he came by in travels. After making sure nothing was broken, he turned his full attention to the group infront of him...

(You go to sleep and you wake up... and it takes you nearly an hour to catch up, lol! But all you guys' posts are so much fun to read!)

_________________

(}--{)Imagination Inspires Ideas -Zandain(}--{)
Married Cloud Strife 9/17/08

Raign took a breath, considering her viable options. One. She could scour every cranny of this island - if it was indeed an island like the imperious young woman opposite claimed - until she found some trace of what she was looking for. They couldn't just have disappeared into thin air. She steadfastly ignored the niggling voice that told her oh yes, yes they could. That smacked of idiotic stubbornness; perseverance was a virtue, but after a point it lost value. Two. She could follow wherever this mismatched band of people decided to go. Some of them obviously knew what they were doing, if not where they were - some, she wouldn't be surprised if they knew that as well. That was not necessarily a positive attribute. She eyed the masked character, and the one with the glaive.

There wasn't much of a third option. Raign irritably brushed away a mosquito, gaze now flitting over the surrounding crowd of mismatched figures. "This fishing village. They'll have boats at their disposal, will they not? We can make for the mainland at the very least. The distance surely is not substantial?"

She directed the question at Ryairon, but it held an air of inquiry for Merrin beside her, as well. After all, both had scouted the area, if cursorily. In the uncertain silence, it was Merrin, after an uncertain shrug, who spoke first.

"I don't think any of us have met," she began cautiously, realizing as she said it that two young men had greeted each other quite cordially, but continuing nonetheless. "My name's Merrin. Merrin Dragonrider."

It occurred to her that perhaps to introduce herself quite so readily wasn't wise - and in thinking her eyes strayed to the masked figure and a few of the robed ones - but it was done now. Merrin added, tentatively, an inquiry after the dragon that still would not respond to her mental calls. "Has anyone seen a - a dragon? His name is Wyvern, and he's silver."

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Just became a college freshman; be on sparingly

Kjan Armadur was awake, but he was decidedly not ready to acknowledge it. Firstly, he had been awoken most unpleasantly by all-too-bright sunlight accosting his senses far earlier than he would have liked. Which was made all the more disconcerting by the fact that his bedroom had neither a sun roof nor a window facing east. And the minor problem of not actually recalling ever having gone to bed. Secondly, he was reasonably sure that this as all just the result of one drink too many at the tavern with Phae (if the splitting headache was anything to go by), and would thus only go away if he went back to sleep. Thirdly, he didn't feel like it.

After a minute or two of lying there, Kjan grudgingly opened his eyes and attempted to sit up and instantly regretted it as pain exploded through his head and his stomach threatened to rebel. Right, two more minutes, then, he thought wryly as he lay back down and waited for the pain to subside. At least his brief attempt at reconnaissance had granted a few hints at his situation. For one, he was in the middle of a jungle, which was somewhat bemusing given that Kytana had precious few jungles, and all of those were located on the southern coast far from his home. He briefly entertained the possibility of Pyreva, but that made no more sense than the previous idea. So it was an unfamiliar jungle.

He was also surrounded by entirely foreign people, speaking of foreign topics in foreign accents. This was just as concerning as the lack of familiarity with his surroundings, as he considered himself a fairly well-traveled individual and was (or had been) under the impression that he was relatively familiar with all major peoples of the land. And from the sound of it, they were just as confused as he, if not more. So much for just asking for directions and going on his merry way.

His attempt to roll over onto one side was met with resistance, and Kjan realized with a start that he had his knives with him. Yes, they were kept sharp, and yes, he did still practice with them regularly, but he was fairly sure he would have noticed if he'd gone to bed with them on. Or if he hadn't, Lena would have, and she certainly would have commented. Very strange indeed.

As he was rapidly assimilating all of this information and its possible implications, Kjan's ears caught onto a familiar accent amid the buzz of confused conversation. In fact, two familiar accents, and familiar voices to accompany them. Sitting up once more - slowly, this time - he got to his feet and joined the owners of said voices.

"Glad to see that I'm going mad in good company," he said by way of greeting, putting an amiable arm around each man's shoulder. "I would have been quite upset if I'd been all by myself. Pity Phaerin couldn't join us in this insanity, but he does have rather better things to do now. I don't suppose anyone has the vaguest idea what in the seven levels of the underworld is going on?"

Before he even got a straight answer to his question, a new woman interrupted the conversation, storming in uninvited. Xarw`s eyes narrowed as she arrived as he again tried to determine the motives and background of this new stranger. Most, if not all, of them appeared to be human, which at least supported the theory, that he was in the realms yet when watching closer the odds against that being the true grew vastly. Everyone`s clothes seemed to be of a making as, if it was a large multicultural meeting of sorts and the way everyone spoke indicated, that their place of origin was not the same.

Was it pure coincidence or were these people of another corners of the world, and in what kind of a place were they, if not in Faerun? Xarw quietly sneered at the thought as he gazed at the clouds, that pierced the blue skies with blankets of white scattered across it. The gods had a crooked sense of humor, that much was a given for what kind of a force was able to throw him around like this? From the deserts of Calimshan to where exactly? One of them had not even heard of Tethyr and as one introduced, she mentioned a dragon and called herself Merrin Dragonrider. Surely these were no coincidence and as far as he had ever known dragons would have never allowed humans to ride themselves.

A rare exception? Hardly, it seemed like an impossibility or had he simply gone mad enough to allow his mind to conjure something like that up. Xarw decided to make a calculated risk, it might shock some of them as, if his red, burning eyes had not ensured them already of his suspiciousness. Xarw slowly raised his hand and pulled back his hood, revealing his short white hair, pointed ears, which carried a few simple golden piercings on them and dark, obsidian skin. He also pulled the mask off and placed it back into one of the pouches, then he couldn`t, but smirk slightly at the looks directed at him. This would confirm whether he was indeed still Faerun or not, Xarw made a small and slightly mocking bow.

"Xarw Meldiv, I had my own reasons to cover my appearance and I see it doesn`t please you in the slightest as much as I feared."

He said calmly, but his eyes looked around at their reactions, ever vigilant for a violent out burst and in his sleeve there was one waiting to be returned or struck in advance. The sword or bow would be too clumsy at this range yet at least he held a couple of daggers and darts up his sleeves. Had he not done this, he wouldn`t have survived over 200 years in the merciless and scheming drow society, that would swallow you whole, if you weren`t careful.

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

Leveling herself up onto her feet, Kira managed to stand after three to four tries. She quickly patted herself down to make sure every limb was indeed there and what so happened to survive the transportation to this freak show. "Shoes, jeans, blouse, 56 cents, car keys.." she rattled onto herself, pleased to locate all personal items on her, but forgetting where in the world she did come from.

From the most she could recall, she was driving to an interview for a summer internship at the local bank, to combine with another internship with AT&T. In practical terms, Kira was selling her summer away and expecting to get paid for it. On the way, she remembered, Kira stopped at the local Starbucks in order to look at least somewhat happy about the sub par interview she was about to encounter. It was picking up her order of a cup of coffee that was the last thing Kira remembered.

It must have been then, Kira concluded, that I was sent forth through a completely illogical timeframe to this place.

She managed to look around and see not much different from her world, except for maybe that she came from a civilized society and not some prehistoric dinosaur-hunting group.

Sighing, Kira pocketed her hands and strolled around a few meters this way and that to scope out the beach and overhear what everyone was saying. It was near a young palm that she located her coffee, still good, but it had a little sand on the lid.

It will suffice, Kira told herself as she wiped off the sand and took a sip, it is, unfortunately looking to be one of the last cups of coffee I am goign to have in a long time.

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Ruth Ann's eyes began to tear up more and more as see continued to watch all of the people interact with each other. For, with each word, Ruth Ann comprehended even further that she was not in Middle Earth anymore.

Licking her lips, Ruth Ann had her mind on overdrive, going through ever situation she could remember before arriving on this island and thinking of every possible way she could get back to Middle Earth as quickly and as easily as possible.

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"My purse!" Kira spit out of her mouth along with a few fluid ounces of precious coffee. She stood stunned, looking to her shoulder and seeing no strap around it. Kira was able to clearly remember that her purse was on her shoulder went she was taken away from reality, and she was certain that she needed to find it before some serial killer.

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