The Tides of Time: Chapter 1 - The First Wave

[AfterCrescent]

As the sunlight begins to crawl through the small windows on opposite sides of the wall, the smells begin to stir those inside.  The smell of flour is in the air.  This smell is dampened by the stench of stale ale, which, in turn, is mitigated by the overpowering smell of salt water.

Even before enough light sneaks in to force one's eyes open, the brief flash of nausea creeps into the pit of their stomachs.  That light swaying is then overcome by the sound of the waves crashing outside the window.  After a brief stint of confusion, five strange people begin to stir and open their eyes.

Suddenly everything comes flowing in. They are all within what appears to be a holding cell.  Realizing they have been sleeping uncomfortably on the floor, they quickly rise and take stock of their surroundings.  The bars of the cell rise into the ceiling and are bolted to the planks at the top and bottom of the cell.  The bars seem moderately maintained, although there is sporadic rust about them.  In a room less than twenty feet by twenty feet, the roof is barely seven feet above the floor.  The cell itself is maybe seven or eight feet on a side.  In this small cabin, bags of flour are stacked in sets of six somewhat haphazardly around the room.  Off in one corner of the room, a table is nailed to the wall and a chair lies on its side.

Whether mistaken for someone else or by some unknown nefarious plot, these five people realize they're captives on some ship.  And worse, they can't remember anything since the previous afternoon.

Map
[spoiler]| 0|A|B|C|D|E|F|G|H|I|J|K|L|M|N|O|P|
| 1| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |
| 2| | |W|W|W|W|D|D|W|W|W|W|W|W| | |
| 3| | |W|T| | | | | | | |S|S|W| | |
| 4| | |W|C| | | | | | | |S|S|W| | |
| 5| | |W| | | |_|_|_|_| | |S|W| | |
| 6| | |W| | | | | | | | | | |W| | |
| 7| | |W| | | | | | | | | | |W| | |
| 8| | |W| | | | | | | | | | |W| | |
| 9| | |W| | | |_|_|_|_| | | |W| | |
|10| | |W|S|S| | | | | | | | |W| | |
|11| | |W|S|S|S| | | | |S|S|S|W| | |
|12| | |W|S|S|S| | | | |S|S|S|W| | |
|13| | |W|W|W|W|W|W|W|W|W|W|W|W| | |
|14| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |
[/spoiler]

[skydragonknight]

Dimentarak's Prologue:

The sword came down and cut straight down the body of the unarmed old man.  The elderly monk told his pupil "Dimen, stay back! You are not ready for this foe!" and tumbled forward to attack to human in white armor, but even with his incredible tumbling, the spinning swords sliced at him and the man grit his teeth in pain, having not expected his foe to find an opening to attack.

The monk's fist burst into flame as he striked the human in white armor, landing a solid blow. Yet for some reason the human was not nearly as injured as he should have been. The armored human smiled even as the blow connected and brought his blade to attack the monk even as the monk's attack was landing.

"Fool" the armored man said as he took a step back and prepared to attack the elderly monk. "To think I could be defeated by the likes of you?"

Even as wounds were beginning to appear on the armored man exactly where the monk had hit him moments ago, the spinning sword came down, slicing into the monk forcing the monk to fall onto his hands and knees. A soft glow flowed up the blade to the armored mans wounds and they vanished as if they were never there.

"It is pointless to resist. Move even an inch and you die." the human said with a wide smile.

The student could only look on in shock as the monk-his master-struggled before him. He had never seen his master so horribly outmatched before.

"Dimen...run...escape while you can..." the old monk said.

As the last word was spoken, Dimentarak found a knife at his throat as a man shrouded in black was now behind him, having somehow eluding Dimentarak's senses.
"Should I kill this one?"

"No. Put him in a holding cell. He might be able to tell us what we need to know if this vermin fails to talk." the armored man said.

"I won't tell you anything!" the elderly monk says.

"We'll see about that." the man in white armor says, swinging the spinning sword once more, hitting the old monk at full force with the blunt side of the blade.

Dimentarak opened his mouth to speak, but the scene faded to black as a blow with a sap connected with the back of his skull rendering him unconscious.

***

Dimentarak awoke with a start. "Master!"

[spoiler]Can you fit my character's villain into your campaign world, After?[/spoiler]

[JanusJones]

The thing next to you stirs, a tangle of gangly white limbs and gossamer black.

It buzzes into movement, a blur of grey.  In a flash it darts to the corners of the room, then comes back to a small circular orbit near the others.

"This is new to this being.  Query: is common to lose awareness and be transported elsewhere?  Register for later consideration."

It turns two huge, blank black orbs on the other figures in the room.  It's queer, noseless face seems little more than an expressionless, ivory mask, cut by a wide slash of a mouth.

"Salutations - you beings are new to this being.  Query: what are you?  Supplementary query: what is this locale?"

[NineInchNall]

After hours of unconsciousness, Scearagh slowly opens his eyes and to find himself in strange surroundings.  His clothes are clean and his wounds dressed.  Sitting up brings with it a slight pain in his temples; blinking through it with gritted teeth, he moves to sit with his back against the bars and take stock of the other creatures trapped like him.

"Why am I in a cage?"  The cadence is ambiguous: simultaneously subdued, ebullient, and curious.  He takes another look at the winged creature with the odd speech pattern.  "And what, pray, are you," he asks, raising a blond eyebrow that matched his long, braided hair.

[JanusJones]

The thing in the air spends a moment with its head cocked.

"Query requires specification of level of engagement . . . difficult to ascertain immediate response.  Uncertain as to nature of being - what is nature of being?  Matter alone or intangible assets?"

It circuits the room, blank expression focused inward.  Suddenly, it halts, its eyes widening, and darts back, pausing only inches from Sceargh's face.

"Insufficient information to process initial query - this being is uncertain as to nature of self.  Accessing data on interaction, it occurs to this being that query might have been initiation of greeting subroutine . . . ?  If correct, then this being would respond with identification assignation for ease of communication, yes?"

It draws back, black eyes glittering in anticipation.

[ksbsnowowl]

[skydragonknight]

Dimentarak just stares at the bars, avoiding conversation with the other captives. If they wanted to talk to him, he'd respond, but not before. He had too much on his mind. His teacher, Master Kato, was in danger. He might already be dead.

No, I must hope, Dimentarak thought. There is a chance he's alive. ...there's even a chance he's nearby.
If he is, then I can't stay here. I must find him, so we can escape from the man with the spinning sword.

He looked from one captive to the next. Maybe they could help him, if only to get out of this cage.
"Dimentarak is my name, though most call me 'Dimen' for short."

He couldn't manage even a fake smile. He was always bad at talking to strangers, having grown up in a tiny jungle village where everyone knew everyone and important conversations were done through a mindlink that his people could make, albeit only once a day.
"Are you all prisoners, then?" he said, not really knowing a better way to start a conversation than by asking a redundant question.

[Tshern]

The last words of Dimentarak echo in Gammoan's head as he tries to regain consciousness in the far corner of the room partially beneath sacks and thus almost unseen. Slowly he forces himself up telling himself that every second he stays down might cause him his life and he was far from ready to give up. His surprise was great when he found himself locked within a room with other prisoners of various kinds. He had no idea what to do and only managed to utter a single sentence: "Did you get a glass of that crappy wine too?"

[skydragonknight]

"Actually it as a man who appeared out of shadows. He hit me pretty hard." Dimetarak said, rubbing his hand against the back of his skull.

He looked between the creatures. He really wasn't good at this sort of thing.

"What about you?" he said to the handsome human. "I am called Dimen."

[spoiler]My character has a Cha of 6. He's not ugly, but he's socially inept. Help the guy out a little...I'm not going to break roleplay to advance the plot for you lazy bums. [/spoiler]

[NineInchNall]

Scearagh glances to the slightly awkward kalashtar, then answers the flying creature's question.  "Identification assignation," he says with a bemused tone and cocked head.  "Aye, that would be the right of it.  My name is Scearagh*, and this," he looks back to Dimentarak with a wink, "is apparently Dimen.  The other two I do not know, but won't we be introducing ourselves soon enough?  Your name is ..."  The question is left hanging, waiting for the black-eyed creature's response.




[spoiler]He pronounces his name like scary.[/spoiler]

[JanusJones]

"Name?  Query requires identification moniker response, yes?"

The thing spends a moment hanging in the air, wings buzzing faintly.  It's wide black eyes stare off, it's wide, block head cocked at an angle.

"This being is without moniker - if identification is required, would gentle-beings choose?"

[NineInchNall]

Scearagh blinks.  "You mean to say that you do not have a name?"  The young man's voice is filled with curiosity.

[JanusJones]

The thing nods, its head bobbing loosely on its spindly neck.

"This being is only generated recently . . . has never had cause to be assigned identifier . . . name.  This being is still only starting the accumulation of sense-information."

[NineInchNall]

His expression soft and solemn, Scearagh gets to his feet and moves to stand eye to eye with the unnamed creature.  Taking its hands in his, he says, "You are without name, without experience.  As a child you be, and as a child shall you be known.  You shall be called by the name Brend, which is the Little Raven.  You are raven hued, after all," he finishes with a wink. 

He lets Brend's hands go and, turning to look at each prisoner in turn, says, "Well, shouldn't we be learning the names of the others in this little cell, now?"

[ksbsnowowl]

I am called Tarwin.  It seems you all have had different roads to this cell.  Alas, you'll be no help to me in trying to remember how I came to this prison.  I should ought to learn that before I break my way out, if I can.  Although it doesn't look as though we'll be getting many answers in here any time soon.

[NineInchNall]

"Tarwin," almost rhythmic cadences say, "this is Brend, newly become.  Brend, this is Tarwin.  May the hinges of your friendship never grow rusty."



*[spoiler]Tarwin ...  Tarwin's Gap?[/spoiler]

[JanusJones]

The thing blinks.  "Registering identification and storing - entities Sceargh, Dimetarak, Tarwin, and . . . this being will respond to moniker 'Brend.'"  It nods at each named creature in turn, flexing it's wide, three-fingered hands. 

"Consumption of bad-wine being's moniker?"

[Tshern]

Gammoan's small figure seemed to have fallen into a somekind of a meditative trance when others were introducing themselves, but afraid of falling of the group and having to fight all of his room mates he quickly and abruptly uttered, almost shouted, "I am Gammoan Clotter!" Though he realized his pervasive introduction was not the subtlest one he decided not to fix the fruit of his social ineptitude and nervously started to go through the stuff in his spell component pouch with his fingers.

[JanusJones]

"All beings here can now identify by monikers."  The spindly white Brend flies over to the bars, inspecting them.

"Query: all beings here wish freedom from restricting environmental attributes?  This being can eliminate wooden structures, but would risk inflammation of entire supporting framework."

It briefly blinks, then swoops near each of the caged beings in turn. 

"Preventative measures for protecting these beings from harmful effects of internal combustion unit engaged."

It flies about, pausing to make arcane gestures briefly over each being's head.  As it does, each feels a curious adaptation . . . and suddenly become more acclimated to the temperature of the room.

[skydragonknight]

"Burn the bars?" Dimentarak asked. "That might take a while. The floor, however..."

Flurry of Blows on the floor. (1d20+2=3, 1d20+2=22)

Dimen swings down twice at the floor. The first attack is ineffective(Nat 1), but the second attack lands squarely on the floor.

Damage on the Floor (1d6+4=9) 4 damage after hardness.

Pieces of the board go flying as his blow lands.
"Alright Brend. The floor isn't that strong. You can do fire and I'll do fist."