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FROZEN SICK THE DOUBLE BLIND ADVENTURE - IC STORY
- Thread starter ManicMuse
- Start date
ManicMuse
I ax-o-lotl questions.
The Double Blind Adventure
Code by Serobliss
•
Near Palebank Village
•
Opening Scene
•
Meat Popsicles
•
Wait...what's my name?
•
Frozen Sick
Finally, heading back to civilization. A hot meal served in the warmth of a heated building. No more frigid sponge baths. A break from the walls of a tent flying away with a rogue gust of wind during windy nights. No more freezing trips to the loo. Something about one's poo freezing before they had even returned to the tent was unsettling.
Soon bartering for a small fortune with the local merchants would be your biggest worry, or so you thought. On a narrow, steep pass, you were caught off guard by a group of bandits that popped out of the snow-like daisies.
Damn, you thought you were cold. Some of them already had visible frostbite. They looked ready to kill to get just a fur pelt for warmth. With them having the advantage of the high ground, there was no point in doing something foolish. You had begun handing over your well-earned goods when suddenly, Urgon tossed something while yelling out, "Hit the snow or lose your nose!"
You awake encased in an icy tomb. Unable to tell which way is up. The small bits of accessible space cave in each time you move. Maybe a tool would help. Think, what do you have on you? Wait, what do you have on you? Where are you? Where are you from? You know you are trapped in snow, and there were others, but you can't recall your name. Hours tick by the freezing chill of the cold around you has sunken into your bones. The hope of being found starts to fade as you struggle to keep awake.
Then a stick tip touches you, though you don't feel it. Those above begin to shout, "Another here! Quickly bring the dogs."
Many fur paws make quick work of digging through the ice and snow. You are pulled from what certainly would have been certain death. Animal skins with warm water are packed around you, along with fresh blankets. The sled is led home by the same pack of dogs that dug you free. Dozens of lanterns dot the area where you were found with many more teams of dogs. The rescue mission would carry on.
How much time has passed is unclear. You awake in a comfortable bed, in a large room, with several others. In total, there appear to be six of you. Paper strung from a bit of twine hangs from the end of each bed, showing a name. It appears you have all been labeled to keep track of you.
Equusheart
A Sparkling Zombie
myrkwise
JarOfPickles
Young_Charles99
The Good Doctor
A Sparkling Zombie
Once bitten, twice sparkling!
The crackling of the fire beckons him to the waking world. He's warm. The realization tugs a smile onto his lips. He pulls the covers close until a thought startles him free from the last of his sleepiness: where is he? His eyes crack open. A cozy glow illuminates the room. He's high up. His grip tightening around the blanket, he rolls forward a tad, just enough to peek over the edge. The large mound resting upon the table catches his attention first. If there is a head, he overlooks it almost as much as the small cot lying beyond them. He feels the need to squint. A certain mistiness glimmers under the light of the fireplace from the around the tiny body. She has wings, lacey and limp but wrapped around her like a cocoon. (
myrkwise
)
Five others in total, he notes, ending with the person below him. Pointed ears poke from a mass of braided hair pulled back. Their skin reminds him of the sun. (
JarOfPickles
)
They're the "others" he remembered, he thinks, back when he awakened in the icy tomb. He nearly shivers at the memory.
The only one. He can't recall much else beyond the rescue.
Papers dangle from each bed. Still wrapped in the blanket, he sits up with purpose, searching his bunk's frame.
(
ManicMuse
Equusheart
Young_Charles99
The Good Doctor
Shimata
)
myrkwise
)Five others in total, he notes, ending with the person below him. Pointed ears poke from a mass of braided hair pulled back. Their skin reminds him of the sun. (
JarOfPickles
)They're the "others" he remembered, he thinks, back when he awakened in the icy tomb. He nearly shivers at the memory.
The only one. He can't recall much else beyond the rescue.
Papers dangle from each bed. Still wrapped in the blanket, he sits up with purpose, searching his bunk's frame.
(
ManicMuse
Equusheart
Young_Charles99
The Good Doctor
Shimata
)
Last edited:
The Good Doctor
Sand Castle Expert
Death. What exactly did it mean? Some would say it was the gateway to the next life while others would say it was sweet release. Ha! It all sounded like gibberish to them. Them? Who were they exactly? Even they did not know this. Where were they? It seemed another thing they certainly did not know. What they did know was that it was exceedingly cold and that they wouldn't die this day. Mother Nature was the same in her beauty and ferocity but there was nothing compared to man's primal urge to survive. So...there they lay. Seconds stretched out for minutes, which quickly sprinted into hours and possibly even days. Or...maybe it was all a dream.
The darkness called to them and just as they were about to close their eyes, they heard something. No...it couldn't be. Could it? The sound of men and what could only be hounds. They tried to kick their legs out to help in the rescue to no avail. These rescuers had done what felt like the impossible and the warm embrace of the furs lured them into a deep slumber. Mother Nature certainly hadn't won the fight this time and they lived to fight another day...or whatever it was they were doing here in the first place. Any attempts to configure what had happened to them were met with staunch darkness that could only be fought for so long.
-----------
The smell of burning slammed into their nostrils and immediately caused them to pitch up in the dim light of the room they found themselves in. They rubbed their eyes gently and tried to refocus their vision, blinking several times in rapid succession. Some semblance of sight found them and they began to scan the room for anything interesting. There seemed to be five other people here and to their surprise, name tags marking each of them. Could it be that their rescuers knew of this amnesia that plagued them? Regardless of the fact, it seemed as though one of their companions had woken up and maybe they could get some answers from them?
They rose up to a sitting position and called up to the top bunk where this figure had rose mere moments before. They seemed to have been fiddling for something in the darkness. The green flesh and short stature no doubt outing them as a member of the goblin clans. Having not spoken in some time, the voice no doubt came as hoarse and possibly grumpy. "Hey uh..." They squinted to read the name on the tag before continuing in kind. "Vu...Vuggorum? Are you alright? Do you know what in the hell happened to us?"
The darkness called to them and just as they were about to close their eyes, they heard something. No...it couldn't be. Could it? The sound of men and what could only be hounds. They tried to kick their legs out to help in the rescue to no avail. These rescuers had done what felt like the impossible and the warm embrace of the furs lured them into a deep slumber. Mother Nature certainly hadn't won the fight this time and they lived to fight another day...or whatever it was they were doing here in the first place. Any attempts to configure what had happened to them were met with staunch darkness that could only be fought for so long.
-----------
The smell of burning slammed into their nostrils and immediately caused them to pitch up in the dim light of the room they found themselves in. They rubbed their eyes gently and tried to refocus their vision, blinking several times in rapid succession. Some semblance of sight found them and they began to scan the room for anything interesting. There seemed to be five other people here and to their surprise, name tags marking each of them. Could it be that their rescuers knew of this amnesia that plagued them? Regardless of the fact, it seemed as though one of their companions had woken up and maybe they could get some answers from them?
They rose up to a sitting position and called up to the top bunk where this figure had rose mere moments before. They seemed to have been fiddling for something in the darkness. The green flesh and short stature no doubt outing them as a member of the goblin clans. Having not spoken in some time, the voice no doubt came as hoarse and possibly grumpy. "Hey uh..." They squinted to read the name on the tag before continuing in kind. "Vu...Vuggorum? Are you alright? Do you know what in the hell happened to us?"
JarOfPickles
I don't like pickles.
The man shuffles from underneath the blankets. The first sign of consciousness in... what? Hours? Days? As his mind begins to register the present, he realizes he doesn't know how long it has been since he was last awake... And when was that? His eyes slowly open, blinking away tears from a restful sleep. In his first conscious moments, he attempts to move his hand to wipe them away from his blurry vision. Attempt is the right word, as he notes he has quite literally made a cocoon out of the blankets that had been draped over him. With some difficulty, he unfurls himself from his warm constraits, mumbling curses towards his sleepy self before rubbing his eyes vigorously.
A thought draws him back to his senses - A thought of ice. Cold light blue crystal surrounds him, freezing his body to its very core. He wants to scream, to call out for someone. Anyone. But even his voice was taken by the cold. A thought? Or a memory?
He frowns in confusion, looking towards the now wrinkled blanket at his feet. That explains the sudden fondness for blankets. And the sore throat.
A sudden pang of anxiety drives him to rise fully against the bed frame. His head whips from one side to the other. What is this place? It looks nothing like an ice tomb, far from it. Where is he?
As he examines his surroundings, he notes the large room that stretches around him. Besides his own, several other beds line up on the wooden floor, each harboring their own occupants. Even from a distance, his eyes are drawn towards one whose bronze scales reflect the nearby fireplace's light. A massive figure, yet smaller than the idea of a dragonborn in his head lays on a single bed. He looks quizzically at the crown of horns that adorn his brow and head, briefly entertaining the thought of how one can sleep so comfortably with such weight on his head. (
Young_Charles99
)
It was quickly evident that not all were asleep. Closest to the fire, an enourmous mound shifts under its blanket. A tortle rises from their bed, the contrast of purple salve applied on the dark brown shell immediately highlights the damaged it sustained, alongside the fresh marks upon their green colored face. (
The Good Doctor
)
The tortle does not address him, instead speaking upwards. There's someone beyond the ones in front of him? With a raised brow, he leans sideways, following the tortle's gaze towards the upper bunk.
The sight of the creature above almost makes him jolt to his feet.
"By the gods!" The words spurt out from his lips. His hand quickly presses against his chest as he falls into a coughing fit, his strained vocal chords barely able to produce a shout.
"Apologies, I uh..." He returns his gaze back towards the top bunk as he recomposes himself. He looks towards the green hued creature. Long ears protude from his head, and he can just hear the sharp fingernails running across wood as he seemingly searches for something on the bed frame. (
A Sparkling Zombie
)
"It's not everyday you see a goblin above your bed."
A thought draws him back to his senses - A thought of ice. Cold light blue crystal surrounds him, freezing his body to its very core. He wants to scream, to call out for someone. Anyone. But even his voice was taken by the cold. A thought? Or a memory?
He frowns in confusion, looking towards the now wrinkled blanket at his feet. That explains the sudden fondness for blankets. And the sore throat.
A sudden pang of anxiety drives him to rise fully against the bed frame. His head whips from one side to the other. What is this place? It looks nothing like an ice tomb, far from it. Where is he?
As he examines his surroundings, he notes the large room that stretches around him. Besides his own, several other beds line up on the wooden floor, each harboring their own occupants. Even from a distance, his eyes are drawn towards one whose bronze scales reflect the nearby fireplace's light. A massive figure, yet smaller than the idea of a dragonborn in his head lays on a single bed. He looks quizzically at the crown of horns that adorn his brow and head, briefly entertaining the thought of how one can sleep so comfortably with such weight on his head. (
Young_Charles99
)It was quickly evident that not all were asleep. Closest to the fire, an enourmous mound shifts under its blanket. A tortle rises from their bed, the contrast of purple salve applied on the dark brown shell immediately highlights the damaged it sustained, alongside the fresh marks upon their green colored face. (
The Good Doctor
)The tortle does not address him, instead speaking upwards. There's someone beyond the ones in front of him? With a raised brow, he leans sideways, following the tortle's gaze towards the upper bunk.
The sight of the creature above almost makes him jolt to his feet.
"By the gods!" The words spurt out from his lips. His hand quickly presses against his chest as he falls into a coughing fit, his strained vocal chords barely able to produce a shout.
"Apologies, I uh..." He returns his gaze back towards the top bunk as he recomposes himself. He looks towards the green hued creature. Long ears protude from his head, and he can just hear the sharp fingernails running across wood as he seemingly searches for something on the bed frame. (
A Sparkling Zombie
)"It's not everyday you see a goblin above your bed."
Young_Charles99
New Member
A dream. He thinks to himself, releasing a sigh of relief as the images from before slowly fade into forgotten memory. He closes his eyes to rest a moment longer until the realization hits. Screaming? The man sat up in the unfamiliar bed, unable to recall any information on his whereabouts. Actually, the more he thought about it, the less he could remember at all. His name? Absent. Identity? Unknown. What's going on? Noticing his breathing becoming aggressive and panicked, the man attempts to calm himself with closed eyes and a few deep breaths.
Once he feels the pressure subside from his chest, he opens his eyes. Taking the moment to observe his surroundings, it seems he isn't alone. There are others in the room with him. Are they like me? He questions their motives until a memory returns in a brief flash - almost like a dream...a dream. It's no dream. The ice. The cold. The rescue. It was all real. Aside from that brief flash, the rest of the man's memories were locked away from him. He can feel himself getting frustrated at the task, breathing over and over again. His fingers pinch and rub at the bridge of his nose while he looked around the room. Some of the others are already becoming acquainted with one another.
After a moment, he hears the conversation between the others. It becomes clear that none of them have any idea of what's happened. At first, he questions their knowledge of one another. They know each other by name but I have no recollection of my o-, he yields at the sight attached to the bed. A piece of paper? Looking around the room, every occupied bed seems to have one. He begins to hypothesize the situation in his mind. Names but no memories. If our rescuers know who we are, we're involved with these people somehow. He sighs, only growing more frustrated with every step he takes to solve this conundrum. Finally giving in, he looks throughout the room and sneers deeply with a huff, "Does someone want to tell me what's going on?" He first turns to the pointy-eared bunk buddies. Then, he looks to the pair by the fire. His eyes never touched the entrance, unaware of a form lying present nearby.
ManicMuse
@
Equusheart
A Sparkling Zombie
myrkwise
JarOfPickles
@
The Good Doctor
Once he feels the pressure subside from his chest, he opens his eyes. Taking the moment to observe his surroundings, it seems he isn't alone. There are others in the room with him. Are they like me? He questions their motives until a memory returns in a brief flash - almost like a dream...a dream. It's no dream. The ice. The cold. The rescue. It was all real. Aside from that brief flash, the rest of the man's memories were locked away from him. He can feel himself getting frustrated at the task, breathing over and over again. His fingers pinch and rub at the bridge of his nose while he looked around the room. Some of the others are already becoming acquainted with one another.
After a moment, he hears the conversation between the others. It becomes clear that none of them have any idea of what's happened. At first, he questions their knowledge of one another. They know each other by name but I have no recollection of my o-, he yields at the sight attached to the bed. A piece of paper? Looking around the room, every occupied bed seems to have one. He begins to hypothesize the situation in his mind. Names but no memories. If our rescuers know who we are, we're involved with these people somehow. He sighs, only growing more frustrated with every step he takes to solve this conundrum. Finally giving in, he looks throughout the room and sneers deeply with a huff, "Does someone want to tell me what's going on?" He first turns to the pointy-eared bunk buddies. Then, he looks to the pair by the fire. His eyes never touched the entrance, unaware of a form lying present nearby.
ManicMuse
@
Equusheart
A Sparkling Zombie
myrkwise
JarOfPickles
@
The Good Doctor
myrkwise
Despite everything, I'm still here.
I would consider myself mad, if only I could remember what sanity felt like, she mused, having just roused from her dreary slumber to a cacophony of shouts that pierced every so uncomfortably into her eardrums. She felt tempted to hide herself in a corner or curl into a ball, trying to recede back into eternal darkness.
Focus yourself. Analyze your situation, and respond accordingly.
She eyed first the bronze-scaled reptilian (
Young_Charles99
), who had just then called forth his question.
"K... Kutro, is it?" she murmured. "I am afraid I am just as ignorant to our circumstances as you... and I suspect the same goes for the rest of us, hm?"
What an oddity it was, just existing as she did now. She was certain that there was - had been, at least, more to her existence than that which she could perceive at the moment. It was not quite a sense of hollowness - rather a deep and annoyingly pervasive fog that encompassed her mind, leaving only a small patch for her to settle about. She remembered the basic trifles of life - the essential knowledge that one might pick up ordinarily. But the context behind that knowledge, the memories from which they derived... were completely and utterly absent.
A strange, disconcerting feeling indeed.
Focus yourself. Analyze your situation, and respond accordingly.
She eyed first the bronze-scaled reptilian (
Young_Charles99
), who had just then called forth his question. "K... Kutro, is it?" she murmured. "I am afraid I am just as ignorant to our circumstances as you... and I suspect the same goes for the rest of us, hm?"
What an oddity it was, just existing as she did now. She was certain that there was - had been, at least, more to her existence than that which she could perceive at the moment. It was not quite a sense of hollowness - rather a deep and annoyingly pervasive fog that encompassed her mind, leaving only a small patch for her to settle about. She remembered the basic trifles of life - the essential knowledge that one might pick up ordinarily. But the context behind that knowledge, the memories from which they derived... were completely and utterly absent.
A strange, disconcerting feeling indeed.
A Sparkling Zombie
Once bitten, twice sparkling!
A fingernail lightly scrapes the wood of the bedframe as he searches for his paper. Questions swarm in his head and he hopes for an answer to alleviate the noise. His touch nearly finishes its run along the length of the frame when a sudden movement catches his attention. A blanket now lies in a heap on the floor below him. The elf sits up.
A breath catches in his throat and he clamps his mouth shut to suppress the cough. He retracts his hand, but after a few heartbeats, he peeks a little farther over the edge. They couldn't be enemies, couldn't be, not if their rescuers have shacked them together, yet the rationalization fails to ease his anxiety. His eyes flit between the braided head and the frame.
He decides then that his need for answers outweighs the risk of interaction. Quietly, he leans toward the foot of the bed to continue his search. Vaguely he's aware of more movement, but he fixes his stare on the frame and presses his lips so tightly that a piece of dried skin feels like a needle. The earth-toned flesh of his fingertip touches twine when a hoarse, grumpy voice breaks his barrier of concentration.
A tortle stares at him.
Cold sweat threatens his brow as soon as they make eye contact. He lifts his chin a fraction of an inch, but he doesn't speak. The tortle glances elsewhere - the paper? the elf? He teeters between hope and trepidation until the shelled creature stumbles over a word.
Vuggorum! He has a name!
It matters little to him if it's real or a lie. The tension in his achy muscles ebbs. He begins to smile in spite of his chapped lips, but suddenly a shout erupts from below and a braided head shoots up like a geyser. The blanket falls away as Voggorum throws himself back, sharpened nails bared at the ready. It's unneeded. Coughing cripples the elf, and when the apology arrives a moment later, Voggorum lowers his hands. The elf comments.
A goblin. He is a goblin.
For a heartbeat, Vuggorum's ears droop along with his shoulders. Without peering down at himself, the signs of his race are there, from his small, green body to his razor teeth and long ears, something he feels he kind of knew, but the confirmation tastes like a bitter leaf when in the presence of a humanoid. His cheeks burn. He sneers as he casts his gaze to the side. "It's not everyday I wake up above a knife-ear." He assumes. His voice is scratchy like claws on tree bark.
His attention returns to the tortle, his grouchiness evaporating enough to be civil. He shrugs before rubbing at his head. "Fine, I'm fine. I feel better than you look..." he observes, his eyes trailing from the smears of salve to the paper dangling from the table-bed. He has to lean forward to get a better look. "Gor-tholl." He believes that's how Gortholl is pronounced, though he isn't certain, and the reciprocation satisfies him all the same. It's born as much out of accomplishing kindness as it is a need to cling to any bits of information he can glean. He sits straighter upon the bed. "We were rescued." Shyness lines his assertive certainty. The confidence is easy to muster with the only blurry memory he possesses.
Another voice chimes in, and another. Vuggorum looks from the dragonborn to the fairy and back again. He hesitates for a moment, and then speaks with the same certainty: "There was an avalanche." Had to have been. He hopes, or else he would have to eat his words. Or else he would be wrong and they would laugh at him and cast him off as the goblin he is, especially the elf. Likely. Probably. But he also forgets that speaking is a double-edged sword with or without his being right. His heart tremors each time a new pair of eyes looks at him. He maintains his posture despite how much he wants to curl into himself.
He looks to the only sleeping form. Her skin reminds him of the midnight sky, and her hair the moon. (
Equusheart
)
Her bed sits close to the door, but he ignores it to instead scan the room. "Is there water?" Except actually he looks for a makeshift weapon first.
(
The Good Doctor
myrkwise
ManicMuse
JarOfPickles
Young_Charles99
)
A breath catches in his throat and he clamps his mouth shut to suppress the cough. He retracts his hand, but after a few heartbeats, he peeks a little farther over the edge. They couldn't be enemies, couldn't be, not if their rescuers have shacked them together, yet the rationalization fails to ease his anxiety. His eyes flit between the braided head and the frame.
He decides then that his need for answers outweighs the risk of interaction. Quietly, he leans toward the foot of the bed to continue his search. Vaguely he's aware of more movement, but he fixes his stare on the frame and presses his lips so tightly that a piece of dried skin feels like a needle. The earth-toned flesh of his fingertip touches twine when a hoarse, grumpy voice breaks his barrier of concentration.
A tortle stares at him.
Cold sweat threatens his brow as soon as they make eye contact. He lifts his chin a fraction of an inch, but he doesn't speak. The tortle glances elsewhere - the paper? the elf? He teeters between hope and trepidation until the shelled creature stumbles over a word.
Vuggorum! He has a name!
It matters little to him if it's real or a lie. The tension in his achy muscles ebbs. He begins to smile in spite of his chapped lips, but suddenly a shout erupts from below and a braided head shoots up like a geyser. The blanket falls away as Voggorum throws himself back, sharpened nails bared at the ready. It's unneeded. Coughing cripples the elf, and when the apology arrives a moment later, Voggorum lowers his hands. The elf comments.
A goblin. He is a goblin.
For a heartbeat, Vuggorum's ears droop along with his shoulders. Without peering down at himself, the signs of his race are there, from his small, green body to his razor teeth and long ears, something he feels he kind of knew, but the confirmation tastes like a bitter leaf when in the presence of a humanoid. His cheeks burn. He sneers as he casts his gaze to the side. "It's not everyday I wake up above a knife-ear." He assumes. His voice is scratchy like claws on tree bark.
His attention returns to the tortle, his grouchiness evaporating enough to be civil. He shrugs before rubbing at his head. "Fine, I'm fine. I feel better than you look..." he observes, his eyes trailing from the smears of salve to the paper dangling from the table-bed. He has to lean forward to get a better look. "Gor-tholl." He believes that's how Gortholl is pronounced, though he isn't certain, and the reciprocation satisfies him all the same. It's born as much out of accomplishing kindness as it is a need to cling to any bits of information he can glean. He sits straighter upon the bed. "We were rescued." Shyness lines his assertive certainty. The confidence is easy to muster with the only blurry memory he possesses.
Another voice chimes in, and another. Vuggorum looks from the dragonborn to the fairy and back again. He hesitates for a moment, and then speaks with the same certainty: "There was an avalanche." Had to have been. He hopes, or else he would have to eat his words. Or else he would be wrong and they would laugh at him and cast him off as the goblin he is, especially the elf. Likely. Probably. But he also forgets that speaking is a double-edged sword with or without his being right. His heart tremors each time a new pair of eyes looks at him. He maintains his posture despite how much he wants to curl into himself.
He looks to the only sleeping form. Her skin reminds him of the midnight sky, and her hair the moon. (
Equusheart
)Her bed sits close to the door, but he ignores it to instead scan the room. "Is there water?" Except actually he looks for a makeshift weapon first.
(
The Good Doctor
myrkwise
ManicMuse
JarOfPickles
Young_Charles99
)
The Good Doctor
Sand Castle Expert
They shrugged at the first part of the goblin's words, not really taking much offense from it. They certainly weren't the fashion models that elves and other humanoid races were modeled to be and didn't really care to be. They put more interest in what was in a man's heart and what the strength of their arm entailed. Mother nature didn't care about beauty if there was no function behind it. The most majestic of peacock's know that their plumage is a defense mechanism against predators but they would digress at this point since another interesting bit of information had been presented. Gortholl? Gortholl hmm? The name sounded rough and a bit uncouth, which he loved!
Gortholl didn't seem perturbed by the different smattering of people that he found himself in the company of. He didn't remember much of anything but if these people were here then they had to be useful in some form or fashion.
Everyone seemed to have woken up by now and it seemed that they were all in the same boat. The avalanche or whatever seemed to knock them all silly and someone had saved them. Why? Was what they were doing that important that they couldn't be left to die? Or did someone just have the human decency to not let people die in an avalanche? No matter the answer, Gortholl needed to get to the bottom of this.
He was speaking to nobody in particular and instead piggybacked off of Vuggorum's sentiment about sustenance. As he spoke, the hoarse and somewhat grumpy nature of his voice was revealed to be the standard of how he talked and not an indication of emotional bearing. "Yeah, I'm with them. Anybody got any jerky or something? I feel like I can eat a whole horse!" A deep chuckle left his chest as he attempted to swing his legs over and get off of this bunk.
Gortholl didn't seem perturbed by the different smattering of people that he found himself in the company of. He didn't remember much of anything but if these people were here then they had to be useful in some form or fashion.
Everyone seemed to have woken up by now and it seemed that they were all in the same boat. The avalanche or whatever seemed to knock them all silly and someone had saved them. Why? Was what they were doing that important that they couldn't be left to die? Or did someone just have the human decency to not let people die in an avalanche? No matter the answer, Gortholl needed to get to the bottom of this.
He was speaking to nobody in particular and instead piggybacked off of Vuggorum's sentiment about sustenance. As he spoke, the hoarse and somewhat grumpy nature of his voice was revealed to be the standard of how he talked and not an indication of emotional bearing. "Yeah, I'm with them. Anybody got any jerky or something? I feel like I can eat a whole horse!" A deep chuckle left his chest as he attempted to swing his legs over and get off of this bunk.
Equusheart
One Thousand Club
A soft groan rose in her throat as her mind slowly came to consciousness. It felt as if she were wading through a think fog that grabbed and clung to her like bog muck. Until finally light seemed to break it away as her eyes fluttered open.
For a moment she lay there. Trying to piece together what had happened and where she was. Who she was? But the more she tried to think the more her already aching head hurt. All that she could remember was swirling of white and blue, someone yelling, and then darkness... But beyond hat?
She winced as a sharp pain shot through her temples. Anymore thinking would just have to wait. Slowly and gingerly, she sat up, a hand pressed to her brow. She blinked a few to allow her eyes to adjust before looking around.
There were five others besides her. Her companions she assumed though their names didn't quite come to her in that moment. She listened silently to the few soft words spoken before her gaze shifted to the paper attached to her bed. A note?
She reached out and plucked it from the post before reading it.
For a moment she lay there. Trying to piece together what had happened and where she was. Who she was? But the more she tried to think the more her already aching head hurt. All that she could remember was swirling of white and blue, someone yelling, and then darkness... But beyond hat?
She winced as a sharp pain shot through her temples. Anymore thinking would just have to wait. Slowly and gingerly, she sat up, a hand pressed to her brow. She blinked a few to allow her eyes to adjust before looking around.
There were five others besides her. Her companions she assumed though their names didn't quite come to her in that moment. She listened silently to the few soft words spoken before her gaze shifted to the paper attached to her bed. A note?
She reached out and plucked it from the post before reading it.
JarOfPickles
I don't like pickles.
The elf's apologetic look faded at the goblin's retort. The thrown slur was only vaguely familiar, yet it stung like acid. He found himself stunned for a moment as if he had heard it for the first time. Yet in that very same moment, his chest burned with the resentment of one who had heard it too many times.
He shook his head, dismissing the sudden anger that threatened to take hold of him and directed his attention towards the various voices that were chiming in.
"I'm not sure what happened. What Vuggorum said makes sense however." He says, avoid meeting the goblin's gaze, "My only memory is of being stuck in... ice? Snow?" The last words come out as a mumble as he questions what the memory was of exactly.
"Well... it was definitely freezing. So that could link to an avalanche." He says, "I assume we all got caught up in it. People sent out a rescue party aaand here we are."
The elf's face suddenly beams in a smile, "So pleasure to meet you. My name is..." He stops as realization dawns on him.
There's an awkward pause.
"... Huh." He chuckles nervously, his brain scrambling for an answer yet finding none. Not only for his name but... for everything. It dawns on him that he recalls nothing beyond the vague memory he just spoke of.
He falls silent, eyes shifting towards one of the nearby nametags - Re'en in big letters, referring to the strange blue skinned lady that had just risen from that bed. (
Equusheart
)
What a strange, empty feeling.
He shook his head, dismissing the sudden anger that threatened to take hold of him and directed his attention towards the various voices that were chiming in.
"I'm not sure what happened. What Vuggorum said makes sense however." He says, avoid meeting the goblin's gaze, "My only memory is of being stuck in... ice? Snow?" The last words come out as a mumble as he questions what the memory was of exactly.
"Well... it was definitely freezing. So that could link to an avalanche." He says, "I assume we all got caught up in it. People sent out a rescue party aaand here we are."
The elf's face suddenly beams in a smile, "So pleasure to meet you. My name is..." He stops as realization dawns on him.
There's an awkward pause.
"... Huh." He chuckles nervously, his brain scrambling for an answer yet finding none. Not only for his name but... for everything. It dawns on him that he recalls nothing beyond the vague memory he just spoke of.
He falls silent, eyes shifting towards one of the nearby nametags - Re'en in big letters, referring to the strange blue skinned lady that had just risen from that bed. (
Equusheart
)What a strange, empty feeling.
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Young_Charles99
New Member
A twitch in his ear in reaction to an off-putting wince, he stands. He inhales sharply, the body not yet fully recovered from whatever had happened to them. Once centered, he makes his way over to the newly awoken member of their amnesia guild. Footsteps heavy with a rhythmic thud, he stops just in front of the white-haired girl. He looks down at the name on the paper and furrows his brow.
"Your name is Ra'en," he asks clearly for the room to hear, emphasizing the name clearly as Ray-N. His eyes glide upwards to meet her face. The girl's features aren't like the others but still seem familiar to him, as if trying to recall a memory from an old book or looking through a thick fog to an image in the distance. "Do you happen to have any memories?" No one else seems to be having any luck. He knows it's quite a long shot but there has to be something they're missing. Best to figure out as much as they can before whomever brought them here comes back. They still have no idea why they were rescued or how they ended up in need of rescue.
For a brief moment, he looks back at the others. They have nothing in common as far as he can tell. Not at first glance, anyway. No one is of the same race. No one remembers enough to determine whether or not wealth plays any part. No telling if they're being ransomed or sacrificed. The ideas in his head bring a tension, clenching his grip tighter with a slight discomfort. He looks down, the sight of claws somewhat throwing him off guard. Aggression intensifies the harder he tries - and fails - to remember.
"Your name is Ra'en," he asks clearly for the room to hear, emphasizing the name clearly as Ray-N. His eyes glide upwards to meet her face. The girl's features aren't like the others but still seem familiar to him, as if trying to recall a memory from an old book or looking through a thick fog to an image in the distance. "Do you happen to have any memories?" No one else seems to be having any luck. He knows it's quite a long shot but there has to be something they're missing. Best to figure out as much as they can before whomever brought them here comes back. They still have no idea why they were rescued or how they ended up in need of rescue.
For a brief moment, he looks back at the others. They have nothing in common as far as he can tell. Not at first glance, anyway. No one is of the same race. No one remembers enough to determine whether or not wealth plays any part. No telling if they're being ransomed or sacrificed. The ideas in his head bring a tension, clenching his grip tighter with a slight discomfort. He looks down, the sight of claws somewhat throwing him off guard. Aggression intensifies the harder he tries - and fails - to remember.
ManicMuse
I ax-o-lotl questions.
The Double Blind Adventure
Frozen Sick
|
A Sparkling Zombie
Hanging from the top bunk, a bit of twine looped through poorly ripped holes held a bit of ripped parchment. Scribbled on the parchment is the word, Vuggorum, which seemed to match the style of all the signs at the end of each bed.
Young_Charles99
With Closer inspection of the torn parchment, the name Kutro is hanging from the end of the bed where he resides.
Equusheart
The twine on the bit of parchment rips on one side, taking a side of the paper with it. Still, the name upon it is legible. The name upon it, Reen. |
|
A Sparkling Zombie
Roll 1D20 for perception regarding seeking a weapon. I will add your modifier and report back with the total. Everyone
Equusheart
JarOfPickles
A Sparkling Zombie
The Good Doctor
Young_Charles99
myrkwise
Please Roll 1D20 for a perception check. I will add your modifiers and report back with totals and details. |
"Aye, mate! I said Hands Off!" The sounds of an argument and shoving outside the door were loud enough for all to hear. Another voice met the gruff cries in response, "And I said you are staying in there. Or else I will toss your neanderthal ass into jail, memory or no memory." An apparent struggle erupted but was quickly finished with the clash of metal armor and a yelp of pain. "I warned you. That's it; I ain't got no time for your mucking around." Another groan followed the sounds of shackles. "Eh, Nel?!" "Yes," a sugary sweet, grandmotherly voice responded. "I am taking one over to the barracks. Locking the lot in their room." "Oh, dear, that one still causing trouble? Shame, but alrighty." The sounds of platemail clinking grew softer. The entire encounter seemed to be related to another room. |
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Equusheart
One Thousand Club
Reen rolls 1D20 for perception.
Young_Charles99
New Member
Perception Check
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The Good Doctor
Sand Castle Expert
Perception Check:
myrkwise
Despite everything, I'm still here.
Perception Check:
A Sparkling Zombie
Once bitten, twice sparkling!
Perceptify
JarOfPickles
I don't like pickles.
Perception Check:
Shimata
Yes, Yes, but with out the oops.
Check totals as follows:
A Sparkling Zombie
- 13+0
Equusheart
- 6+3
Young_Charles99
- 11+1
The Good Doctor
- 19+1
myrkwise
- 11+0
JarOfPickles
- 9+2
A Sparkling Zombie
You search and search about the room, scanning mostly through your peripheral to avoid any direct attention to what you intend to find. While you do not find a weapon in the room outside of a broom in the corner and string that hold up the name tags, you do find the water that you weren't looking to find.
The Good Doctor
The commotion in the hallway has you lost in thought, working to recall if any of the voices you just heard were ones you recognized. After some thought, you come to realize that they weren't anyone you knew, or at least that you can remember. However, something is sticking in your head, a feeling that everyone here is not everyone you were with before the accident.Who was it? Why are they not here? |
myrkwise
Despite everything, I'm still here.
"Well then," she muttered under her breath. "This is... certainly unnerving."
She glanced at her hands and frowned slightly as it came to her that she didn't recognize even them. She felt a sullen longing to find some sort of glass or puddle of water - any reflective surface she could use to observe her own form... For that was the first step, wasn't it? Understanding oneself?
She called out to Vuggorum (
A Sparkling Zombie
), her tone higher pitched than she'd intended.
"If you find any water, would you mind showing me to it?"
In the meantime, she made like three of her companions had already, grasping for the name tag that had been closest to her vicinity, hoping it could help ground her mind somewhere more productive.
She glanced at her hands and frowned slightly as it came to her that she didn't recognize even them. She felt a sullen longing to find some sort of glass or puddle of water - any reflective surface she could use to observe her own form... For that was the first step, wasn't it? Understanding oneself?
She called out to Vuggorum (
A Sparkling Zombie
), her tone higher pitched than she'd intended."If you find any water, would you mind showing me to it?"
In the meantime, she made like three of her companions had already, grasping for the name tag that had been closest to her vicinity, hoping it could help ground her mind somewhere more productive.
A Sparkling Zombie
Once bitten, twice sparkling!
The goblin avoids the elf’s gaze as much as the elf does his. In fact, he goes a step farther and bows his head to the bed he sits upon, sharpened nails scratching at his scalp.
The guilt sitting in his gut ruins his shot at respect and grasping for pride, so Vuggorum shifts his attention to other matters. Gortholl chimes in about jerky, but the goblin stays quiet as he takes in the room, careful not to tip off the others as he searches for protection. A frown tugs his lips when all he spots is the broom. He could break the end and leave it jagged, he thinks, but he doubts the action would serve him well.
He did notice the bucket of water, however. At first he scoots to the ledge of the upper bunk before hopping down to the floor. Before he can take two more steps, the tan-skinned elf speaks again, an attempt to be friendly as half the room caves to their dwellings, Vuggorum considers belatedly - because first the introduction dies upon a nervous chuckle, and the goblin’s ears droop.
With a silent sigh, he spins around and spots the twine tied around the post, meant for the bottom bunk. He closes the distance and yanks the paper free.
“It’s…erm, I..re,” he mutters before he holds the paper up high for the elf to see. “Ayre” reads the paper. Vuggorum is even less certain he pronounces the name correctly, compared to Gortholl’s.
Hesitantly, he allows himself to peer at the elf. Ayre’s stare possesses a sternness, a contrast to the youthful face and his bright, light grey eyes. The sandy-blond braids are tied in a distorted ponytail by a thick leather wrap, he now realizes.
The observation lasts for a stretched moment, like a deep breath, and then Vuggorum casts his gaze to the side. It’s also as long as he grants Ayre to take the paper, if he chooses, or else he discards it on the lower bunk.
Another speaks his name - the fairy. Her eyes are as black as the loose, messy braid behind her head, and with the paleness of her skin, it’s like staring at a pair of coal in snow.
A sudden argument outside the room grants him an excuse to look away. A gruff voice mentions jail. Vuggorum’s heart twists in his chest. Are they criminals? Humanoids usually don’t arrest goblins. They kill them.
Nope. No broom-spear. He has to be on his best behavior.
"Erm, yes, water," Vuggorum says at last to the fairy's request while avoiding eye contact. He approaches the bucket and peers into its depths as he plucks it up by the handle, its contents sloshing within. He sets it on the table Gortholl slept upon minutes ago. "Please, you first."
myrkwise
ManicMuse
The Good Doctor
JarOfPickles
The guilt sitting in his gut ruins his shot at respect and grasping for pride, so Vuggorum shifts his attention to other matters. Gortholl chimes in about jerky, but the goblin stays quiet as he takes in the room, careful not to tip off the others as he searches for protection. A frown tugs his lips when all he spots is the broom. He could break the end and leave it jagged, he thinks, but he doubts the action would serve him well.
He did notice the bucket of water, however. At first he scoots to the ledge of the upper bunk before hopping down to the floor. Before he can take two more steps, the tan-skinned elf speaks again, an attempt to be friendly as half the room caves to their dwellings, Vuggorum considers belatedly - because first the introduction dies upon a nervous chuckle, and the goblin’s ears droop.
With a silent sigh, he spins around and spots the twine tied around the post, meant for the bottom bunk. He closes the distance and yanks the paper free.
“It’s…erm, I..re,” he mutters before he holds the paper up high for the elf to see. “Ayre” reads the paper. Vuggorum is even less certain he pronounces the name correctly, compared to Gortholl’s.
Hesitantly, he allows himself to peer at the elf. Ayre’s stare possesses a sternness, a contrast to the youthful face and his bright, light grey eyes. The sandy-blond braids are tied in a distorted ponytail by a thick leather wrap, he now realizes.
The observation lasts for a stretched moment, like a deep breath, and then Vuggorum casts his gaze to the side. It’s also as long as he grants Ayre to take the paper, if he chooses, or else he discards it on the lower bunk.
Another speaks his name - the fairy. Her eyes are as black as the loose, messy braid behind her head, and with the paleness of her skin, it’s like staring at a pair of coal in snow.
A sudden argument outside the room grants him an excuse to look away. A gruff voice mentions jail. Vuggorum’s heart twists in his chest. Are they criminals? Humanoids usually don’t arrest goblins. They kill them.
Nope. No broom-spear. He has to be on his best behavior.
"Erm, yes, water," Vuggorum says at last to the fairy's request while avoiding eye contact. He approaches the bucket and peers into its depths as he plucks it up by the handle, its contents sloshing within. He sets it on the table Gortholl slept upon minutes ago. "Please, you first."
myrkwise
ManicMuse
The Good Doctor
JarOfPickles
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Shimata
Yes, Yes, but with out the oops.
|
A Sparkling Zombie
Survival (proficient wisdom) check - 13+2 |
While you know survival, you could very well drink the water in the bucket as you have a relatively robust constitution compared to other more frail creatures worldwide. Your knowledge tells you that while this is liquid, it's not just water. Not all stomachs could handle it; yours could.
The Good Doctor
Sand Castle Expert
As his heavy feet slammed against the floor, Gortholl was a bit perplexed at the sounds he was hearing...besides his stomach of course. He certainly wasn't an eagle-eyed sniper or apex predator but his senses did alert him to some commotion coming from behind the door that closed the chamber they were held in. It seemed to be a rather simple conversation but one that had piqued his interest. It seemed as though someone on the other side of the door was suffering from the same thing as his comrades/cellmates and another person was accosting them for leaving their room. Maybe this wasn't as simple as he had first thought.
Gortholl believed himself to be a rather simple soul in his limited memory and decided to approach the problem in the most direct way that he could. The heavy footsteps he left as he approached the door were mainly due to the great shell attached to his body but he didn't mind it much at all. Everyone in here didn't seem to know any more than he did and the people outside had to right? Talking to them was going to be the most effective solution.
He grabbed the handle with a firm grip and attempted to open it. If the implement wouldn't budge, he would attempt to force his weight on the door in an attempt to force it open.
Gortholl believed himself to be a rather simple soul in his limited memory and decided to approach the problem in the most direct way that he could. The heavy footsteps he left as he approached the door were mainly due to the great shell attached to his body but he didn't mind it much at all. Everyone in here didn't seem to know any more than he did and the people outside had to right? Talking to them was going to be the most effective solution.
He grabbed the handle with a firm grip and attempted to open it. If the implement wouldn't budge, he would attempt to force his weight on the door in an attempt to force it open.
JarOfPickles
I don't like pickles.
The elf's attention shifts downwards towards Vuggorum as he approaches. There's a look of faint amusement on his face as the goblin attempts to read whatever is written on a paper - One that he soon extends towards him. He bows slightly forward to examine the letters inscribed in it.
"Ayre." He mutters to himself as much as towards Vuggorum, the name falling naturally from his lips.
The goblin's prolonged stare does not go unnoticed. Ayre peers back after reading his name, raising an eyebrow at Vuggorum's seemingly newfound interest towards his face.
Ayre leans back towards his full height.
"Thank you." He says with a small polite smile, gently plucking the paper from inbetween the goblin's fingers.
He looks back towards the paper once it is in his hands. Ayre - A name. The sole thing he has from the person he once was. He doesn't know if he should mourn over that fact or not. Perhaps more pieces will reveal themselves in the future? Should he seek them out? Or should he bury them together with his previous memory and cast himself anew?
He has little time to ponder before the present regains his attention - The distinct sound of a knob turning by Gortholl's hand. Ayre's eyes narrow in a mix of wariness and curiosity towards what lies beyond that wooden door.
A Sparkling Zombie
The Good Doctor
ManicMuse
Shimata
"Ayre." He mutters to himself as much as towards Vuggorum, the name falling naturally from his lips.
The goblin's prolonged stare does not go unnoticed. Ayre peers back after reading his name, raising an eyebrow at Vuggorum's seemingly newfound interest towards his face.
Ayre leans back towards his full height.
"Thank you." He says with a small polite smile, gently plucking the paper from inbetween the goblin's fingers.
He looks back towards the paper once it is in his hands. Ayre - A name. The sole thing he has from the person he once was. He doesn't know if he should mourn over that fact or not. Perhaps more pieces will reveal themselves in the future? Should he seek them out? Or should he bury them together with his previous memory and cast himself anew?
He has little time to ponder before the present regains his attention - The distinct sound of a knob turning by Gortholl's hand. Ayre's eyes narrow in a mix of wariness and curiosity towards what lies beyond that wooden door.
A Sparkling Zombie
The Good Doctor
ManicMuse
Shimata
