This post is a placeholder for the new thread of Krillis, GMed by Tadeusz... :)

For want of a nail, a kingdom is lost, it is said.  With you, it started with an untied shoe, a trip, a new tablet, and a wet concrete floor being mopped by a janitor.  The arc of lightning jumped from the broken tablet, before you could even moan in pain at a nasty fall.

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A bone-chilling metal, rough with odd protrusions lays under your right cheekbone, and your outstretched body, sucking heat out avidly.  You struggle to breathe, taking rapid breaths. A deep silence hangs about you, only broken by a deep, far distant clang somwhere below you.

I've been electrocuted before. I wasn't fun either time, but before I woke up in the same place. Metal grating? I wonder, as I pull my hands closer to me to push my self up. I turn my head while I do and, assuming there's space for it, I stand up to get my bearings.

That clang concerns me. Was it just one clang or is it continuous, and can I see where the sound is coming from?

The floor is a dark metal, solid, with small protuberances, and occasional inset lines that go out of sight, and are only a penny thick.

The hall is more of a gallery.  Wide arches every thirty feet, and indentations with inbuilt desks, also of metal, are on the left side.  On the right is a solid wall, like unto the floor.

The light is dim.  What looks to be a portal is a hundred feet in front of you.

Above the desks on your left are also what look to be vents.  They creak once in a while in a passing breeze.

The sound comes from somewhere below you.  Its just one, but now there is another, a bit different, and in slightly different location.  They seem to be far away and under the floor.

Its hard to breathe.

You notice several of your items on the floor.

I put a hand to my chest and clinch, knowing full well that it probably won't do much good. I'll approach the vent and see if it's easier to breathe directly next to the vent. After that, I will collect my things that I find (is it everything on my list of equipment?).

I call out, whether or not I have a fresh breath, "Hello? Is anyone out there?" I stamp my foot on the ground to see if I get a reply from that too.

If I hear nothing different from the regular clangs, I proceed forward, occasionally stepping aside for fresh air if staying next to the vent did help.

It does help.  The air from outside is cold, and touched with odd scents that are unpleasant, but there is more air.  You continue onward in an increasingly nightmarish march, and at the third stop, you hear a voice whisper from the vent.

"Krillis, I need to get in.  There is a button under the desk, push it thrice."

I take full, deep breaths whenever I'm by a vent. My athsma isn't helping the situation in this long hallway, and when I hear that voice, my concern is overpowered by relief that someone else is around.

I stop at the desk. "Thrice...? Who talks like that?"

Then, I feel for the button and press it three times.

OOC:
Have I found all of my things?

"I do. I am your friend."  And you hit the button with cameraderie and kindness in mind.

And a green gas enters through the vent, stifling your breath, and rapidly changes to painful flickering lights, like fireflies on steroids and fast forward is in front of you.

"We/I are your friend, Krillis. Greatness awaits, Son of Adam." The whisper comes again, and you can hear overlays in it.

Part of you seems to be standing upright facing these twenty or so lights, and part of you seems to be laying on the cold floor, gasping for breath.  But you feel good....

OOC: About half of them.

I shake my head hard to try to get my senses right. "No."

I've been intoxicated before, and I know that I can get around even with a low coordination. I don't try to stand too quickly, but I try to roll, and get on my knees to reach the button again. If it turned this off, it might be able to turn it off.

I'll try by pressing it once, if I can find it.

You rock to your knees, and extend a wavering arm to hit the button. The vents close.

"Too late. We are already in here."
"Flee for your soul."
"Pretty sparkles."

And more words overlay the first primnary sentence, but then you hear a whoosh.  And lights like cutting razors fall about you.  And the fireflies fall back.  Then there is a scream, and you hear the fireflies no more.

Turning toward the sound of the opened door, you see a brutally armored man, holding a pole, and on th eend of it, a shiny metal circle spins, every once in a while giving off one of those eye-hurting flashes.  They bounce around the room, and off each other, and around you, but every sense in you is shouting 'danger' about them.

"What is the Master Word?" The man demands, thrusting his pole closer toward you.  he holds it like a man well-trained, and in his face is no kindness.

I try to move away, which is awkward while on my knees.

I keep myself calm, and realize that it's just a pole with some sort of intense flashlight on it that my vision is having trouble adjusting to. My brain scans literature and my own experiences for a reference to "Master Word", but my mind draws a blank.

"I don't know, is it 'get that light out of my face'?" When he moves close enough with that pole, I try to quickly reach out and grab it firmly with my hand. I intend to cover the light-producing sphere and pull it out of his grasp at the same time.

You grab it to his shock and dismay.  Then you see long curled strips fly out, evaporate from your arm.  Before you can let go, indeed, at irst you can't let go, your right arm is stripped to the bone.

And then you pass out.

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New world.

Yep...Hindsight 20/20, that was probably a bad idea.

Sorry for making it so brief.