You wake from dreams of being dried in a giant laundry machine by Goofy's cartoon girlfriend who keeps trying to tell you about her delightful lunch with Olive Oyl, Jessica Rabbit, and Minnie Mouse, but you're having a hard time catching the story as you're spinning around and around.  She gets impatient, and stops the laundry, and bends over you, and speaks in French...

"M'sieu, are you well?  Do you need medical attention?"

You feel...a cot underneath you.  A faint smell of perfume in the air, and a low murmur of people all about you.  And you definitely understand her.

PT

OOC: The first time I ran this world, it went over so-so.  I'm trying to find out if that was a special case (aka, I've played in worlds that I knew were just fine, but I didn't really like them, or if the world needs surgery.)  So Mac gets to playtest a possibly broken world....I'm sure he's grateful.

"Eh..." I murmur as I take in my new surroundings,"I think so..."

Though the axe had it's useful properties dying by it was definitely not one of them. In fact I would be sort of grateful if the magic was all used up this time. Avahur's ideas were also kind of disturbing to me, I didn't like to kill; when the axe had me and my adrenaline was pumping double-time, it was just too sweet. Not a feeling that I would relish having again.

As I take stock of my surroundings I also look at the woman, inspecting her way a bit. Since at the moment, only by inspecting her could I get a sense of what the people would be like....

...I could sure use a cold pepsi right now

Long dark brown hair drops around her concerned face covering the left side of the face.  She is wearing a long dress down to her calfs with heeled leather boots, and a large purse slung over her shoulder and back.

Her clothing is rather drab, but despite that she is easy on the eyes.  Around her neck, the only spot of color other than her gray eyes, and the dark green beret is a silver necklace from which dangles a blindfolded woman with a sword in her right hand and scales in her left.

There is a buzz of excited conversation as you open your eyes.

Around you are stacks of boxes, and crowded up close (although giving the woman some space) are people with purpose and fear intertwined in their faces.  There is a lot of quiet and secrecy in the room.

"M'sieu.  You are awake."  She seems pleased, and straightens up and smiles.  It transforms her face. "I did tell you all.  I know it was impossible, but reality is what it is."

One guy who looks a little more authoritative than the others bows his head.

"I should not have doubted you, Lisabelle."

She pats him on the shoulder.

"Why? I doubted myself. A man appearing out of thin air? Incroyable!"

PT

I absently wipe at my eyes, clearing the sleep from them. Blinkingly, I continue to stare into the faces around me with some confusion. Not the kind of confusion that they would see in my face, because for I was trying to make sense of these people. No doubt to them I was confused about what has happened to me. I understood that pretty well now.

"My name is Evan. Where am I and Who are all of you?"

"We are...ah"  The blonde man with some authority pauses. "We are Blind Justice, a group dedicated to bettering Gallia.  You are in the port city of Marseilles, in the warehouses that overlook the city near the rail junction."

"He is from Brendansland..." One woman murmurs discussing you.

"I am Lisabelle No Last Name, the guiding force for this little group.  And I hope your hostess.  We came here to recruit you.  However, we understand if you wish to leave."

"But..." There is some protest.

Lisabelle raises her hand.

"We cannot become kidnappers of the innocent.  There are some lines I will not cross, not even to save Gallia."

Its not a totally popular decision.

PT

I nod slowly, but watching the others in their disagreement. I prop myself up on two elbows.

"What is Gallia....or, or Brendansland? Why does it need saving?"

There had to be a catch, and I was bracing myself for the words.



OOC: I'm always happy to playtest a new world, broken or not.^_^

They stare at each other in shock.

"Um, Gallia is my country.  Its north of the Middle Sea.  We've been overrun by immigrants who worship the Black Throne.  They call themselves Assassins.  The government, the Seventh Republic of Gallia is weak and tries to appease.  So some fight back, the Threat Brigades.  They..."

Lisabelle is interrupted by several folk.

"Bunch of thugs."  You hear some real anger and past pain in their voices.

 "We can either take rule by foreign thugs, or native thugs. Well some of us got tired of waiting for the ditherers in the Glorious City to do something more than make a speech."  The blonde man speaks, and then bows to Lisabelle.

"And then I came on the scene, and helped organize them. We are the representatives of the normal folk who want to live in peace and under law, but are prepared to fight and break the law to get there. The government hates us worse than the Assassins and the Threat Brigade because we expose them as frauds." Lisabelle says.

"Brendansland is across the Great Deep.  Its wrapped in its time-lost walls of magic that no one can breach."  A man with a poet's face says.

"Yeah, they got tired of dealing with idiots, and closed the gates to wonderland."  One cynic snaps. "Can't blame them. They saved the world several times, and all they got was whinges and complaints."

PT

My brow furrowed incredulously, a magical wonderland?

"So how do you think that I can help you to overthrow these tyrants?"

I look around at the assembled group thoughtfully. This was a truly unique scenario, because I had little reference to my own life or world. I'd witnessed a mecha, a god, and even magic though, so I must keep an open mind. Maybe I'd see something familiar to get my bearings. After all I wasn't sure that these were the 'good guys' yet.

I sit up now slowly to get to my feet, check on my pack, and listen more to what these folks were saying.

They hand you your pack.  Its not been opened you think, although its been a little disturbed so you could be wrong.

You stand up, and you're a good foot and a half taller than anyone except the tall blonde man, and he's six inches shorter than you.

"I saw in my visions that you had an axe of power.  And that Thor stood with you.  And that you were brave, a warrior.  Most of us are no warriors."  Lisabelle pauses, and then leans forward to whisper i nyour ear.  "I-I don'tknow exactly, but your arrival was so marvelous, I figured you would know what to do."

PT

A vision, that was startling.

"You were right about what you saw, but my axe may not be of any use now," I pause and try gather my thoughts, "okay, I'll do what I can. I need to know more about your enemy; what do they carry, their numbers, strengths, weaknesses and anything else you can tell me that might be important."

This Lisabelle was truly an interesting one. "Then I want to know how we can all work together to make an attack work."

"The Assasins carry painsticks which the government allows as so many claim to be crippled.  But ordinary cripples can't carry them as canes. The Threat Brigade is far better armed with fire amulets, and shield rings, and thunderboots, and knockabout sticks."  Lisabelle says.

"But there is a lot less of the Brigade." the blonde man says. "My name is Gerard."

They're not sure of the weaknesses until one guy way in the back speaks up.

"They're street thugs.  They're used to a little fight, a little beating up on old people, some extortion, some robbery...y'know.  Face them with any decent army from the Thin Red Line and forward in history, and they'd run like puppies."  He has a professorial tone.

No one knows how many there are.  But every town has anywhere from a hundred to five hundred of them, and there are over two hundred decent sized towns in Gallia.

PT

I listen carefully to each of them as they speak. I'm not entirely sure what to believe about these supposed street thugs. They sounded like militiamen or something. What about what sounds like artifacts straight out of DnD? Was it actually some kind of technology that he couldn't identify or was it really magic? Either way it was something that he'd need to investigate. He was also brought back to this Wonderland place. Perhaps that was the better way to go.

"So tell me more about Brendensland. I think in order to make an attack we'll need to find these people. Either that or find a way to arm ourselves better, especially if they have fire amulets and thunderboots..." I say almost sardonically, though they would not likely catch it.

"If Brendansland would open its doors, then surely they would aid us, and greatly.  But now none can even go there. They are turned aside, and wake back home....if they are lucky.  They no longer care to save the rest of the world from its folly, and they have magic far greater than any one else has.  No one has the guile or the power to force their gates, and compel or beg their aid."  Lisabelle says.

"But perhaps this Thor-blessed warrior can..." Girard says with a shrug.

When you suggest arming themselves, there are a number of replies.

1. We don't know how to fight, not really, that is.
2. We need to contact the Defenders for weapons.
3. We need to contact the Seeds of Liberty for weapons.
4. We need to steal weapons from the Seventh Republic.

It turns out that the Defenders are tribal guardians of a minority tribe which is globally spread out.   And the Seeds are anarchists who believe that each person has the right to enforce justice with their own heavily armed hands.  The Seventh Republic is the government of Gallia, and they are talking about raiding an armory.

And you see someone sketch a pentagram on the floor, summon a flame with a word, and say quietly to it.

"Tell my wife I'll be home late tonight, okay?".  The flame nods, and then dissappears.

PT

Whoa! my mind says to me even as my eyes open as wide as saucers, that's amazing.

On the mental checklist, that was one question down though. Magic was real here. The other versers were right, magic is a prevalent power in the universes. The wonders will never cease.

I try to regain some composure after witnessing the amazing power that they so casually use. "I think the Defenders is the way to go. They would be sympathetic to the cause would they not? Also are there other groups like this one in other cities? If possible we should attempt to garner forces and coordinate with them to fight back at the same time. Not only giving us an element of surprise, but also keeps them from knowing where the leaders are...right?"

Was it possible that all things DnD were possible here? If so, then perhaps they could find the leadership of an uprising anyway with some kind of scrying. If that were true then there wouldn't be much purpose in secrecy since they government would have the best magicians.

Lisabelle writes down a name on a piece of paper, and asks you to contact him.

"James Brightley, Import-Export Facillitator."

"No one will know you which is an advantage." She says.  "We think he's in the Defender's network."

They won't talk about other cities.

Scrying and such is against the Privacy Laws, and tends to draw the unfriendly attention of certain minor demigods.

Magic seems pervasive from the way they talk.

PT