Dan was about to reply when the guy from back in tow came and suprised him. Great... drunky's back. We seem to be meeting the most colourful people. Maybe I'm a little too persuasive at times He thought as he listened to the man propose joining him and 'the ladies', something which didn't exactly even seem wierd to say right now.

He was about to reply when he suddenly recognised the cultist. "Wait, wait, wait... you know her?" He asked, very suprised. He knew strange things can and do happen all the time across every possible reality but they were still suprising when they did occur, and this was certainly a strange coincidence. This just got very interesting, how did a strange drunkard know a cultist, those two groups aren't exactly fun buddies. "Care to elaborate on that? Either of you?" He asked them both with an inquisitive face.

Greg waited patiently for the drunk to leave before she did anything else.  However, the man obviously know Ula before she joined the freaky Beastcult.  So, did that mean that the cult was operating freely here?  No.  If  the cult were well known, then the drunk (unless he were even dumber then he seemed) would have heard that Ula had gone to them.  Also, unless the drunk was really a good actor, he, and by logical extension, the town, didn't seem to know much about the cult either.   Or, at least "Drunky" was a good indication that the town wasn't "in on it'.  Then again, someone, presumably from the cult, had tried to poison Dan when they first got here. So the cult obviously had agents here.

Greg realized with a jolt of recognition that the "poisoning" had happened when Sister Aliana Farwalker had been a "piece of paper" in front of the "him".    The fact that so much had happened, and in such a relatively short time, was a little freaky.

Ula seems to recoil from the drunken fellow as though he carried the vilest of plagues, although from the smell of the alcohol on his breath, recoiling might not be too bad an idea.

"'course I knows her." The drunken man says, throwing a friendly arm around Aliana.  "I thinks that I'd rather know you though, sweet thing."  He gives the elf maiden a more than friendly wink and raises up an arm to flex it, showing off muscles hidden beneath his tunic.  "If you need some more muscle in your group, I'll offers up to join you.  Kenjinn and I used to be quite the team back in..."

"Keep him away from me." Ula says and inches away a little.  "He's going to try and take me back.  I don't want to go back.  I hate them..."

Greg could feel her body tense up as the drunk put a large arm around her.

It was one of the most confusing moments in a long line of them.
On the one hand, it was the first time she'd been held, even briefly, in a man's arms.  It felt.....not good, or right, but...well..... normal.   Like "I'm a woman, and being held in a man's strong arms is what I should want".

On the other hand, the fact that the "strong arm" belonged to a loud, obnoxious, smelly, drunken lout DID manage to temper the feeling CONSIDERABLY.   In fact, Greg's first reaction to the greasy buffoon's touch was to draw her dagger and threaten to "give him a second belly button" if he didn't back off.

Still, they needed information that he barfly seemed to have, so Greg decided to be more diplomatic and "play nice".

How very stereotypically female.  I have to be nice to some scumbag in order to get what I want.     Greg tried not to grimace as she grabbed the man's hand and gracefully spun out of his grasp.

Tell you what, my friend.  Sober up a bit, and we'll discuss it.  Right now, though, I'd like to hear where you two know each other.   

Her obviously fake smile was the best she could do, given the disgusting man's proximity  (this is a VERY bad time for those sharp elven senses).  It would probably let her companions know that she was "faking it" as far as any interest in the drunk, but hopefully the drunk would only be encourged.    Granted, Greg was sure that Tizona already thought she was kind of kooky when she inadvertantly blurted her new-found spiritual epiphany, but that couldn't be helped.

Looking at Ula, she quickly moved to reassure the skittish girl.

Don't worry, Ula, noone is going ANYWHERE.  You're safe with us.  I promise.

The elven maiden looked back at the drunk, fake smile in place.

Now, you were talking about how you two knew each other?

Oh my god!  Greg thought.  Am I actually planning on flirting with a MAN for information?

The idea was very strange to the "probationary" member to the female gender.   She wasn't sure if she even KNEW how to flirt with a man.  Hell, she had never even known how to flirt with WOMEN, for pete's sakes.

A disturbing thought came to her.   Was "Drunky" Ula's .....pimp?   Perhaps she'd escaped a life of (perhaps) forced prostitution to get to the cult.

Just what we need, "Drunk Boy" might just represent something even WORSE than a cult of were-creatures.

Dan seemed peeved at the drunk, something which Dan was in mutual agreement with. The man was claerly not in the right frame of mind and even if he did know... Ula, it was clear that she didn't want to know him. Dan had no memory of ever working with this man, but he might've worked with Kenjinn it was unclear. Damn his drinking!

But apparantly Greg had taken this playing along to heart with everyone, or at least he hoped it was playing along, the cleric seemed to be a bit strange lately. This bothered him for some reason. He knew they needed information and help would be welcome but they could get it some other way without this guy putting the moves on her.

He frowned as they conversed, making a low grunt. The man was too intoxicated and, well, stupid to be of any use right now. Ula on the other hand, while postively insane, was the lesser of two evils, despite her being in an evil cult. Odd how that turns out. He turned to her, "What do you mean, take you back?"

Cassander watched the drunken fellow become friendly with Greg, and felt horribly exposed.  Part of it was Cassander realizing that her obviously female body was going to attract mens attentions and then there was how Tizona was dressed.  Cassander had bemoaned his artistic leanings when he drew out Tizona, giving her an outfit that was more eye candy than practical - as was the case for most fantasy art - and was paying the price for it now.

At least the mans attentions were on Greg.  Cassander wasn't sure just how she'd like to be the object of affection and shuddered as she drew her cloak around her, hoping to hide her elven maideness from drunken view.

She continued to listen and watch the surrounding area for any unusual activity.

The drunken fellow seemed to take Gregs, or rather Alianas, words as an invitation.  He straightens up, it seems to be that he sways less, and puts on what he probably thinks is a very professional grin.   "Oh sure, sure.  I'll be right as the meadow grass in a...a...sunset.  Then we can discuss you and me...you hiring me, I mean.  I'm real good with a blade.  Kenjinn can tell you.  There was this one time that..."

"There's nothing to discuss!" Ula said very forcefully.  She slowly rose to her feet, bracing herself against a tree as she did.  "I'm not going back.  You WON'T take me back again."

The smile fades from the drunks face as he turns to face the girl.  "Don't you be sassin' me none, girl.  You know damn well that yer folks've been worried sick about you.  I'm guessin' that I'll have to take you back.  Makes this what?  The third time."

"I'm not going back to that farm!  I hate it there!  It's all dirty and sweaty and...and poor.  The Voice says that I have a great destiny, one that doesn't involve living my life in the dirt."  Ula's eyes narrow as she faces down the drunken fellow.  She seems to find some inner strength to stand firm before his gaze.  "If you try and take me back again, I'll...I'll...I'll claw your eyes out."

Greg was horrified.  THIS was getting them nowhere.  A girl running away from her parents?  Was that all there was to it?  Granted, as the.....child.....of a farmer, Greg could well understand wanting to leave.   Hell, Greg had certainly rushed off the college with incredible enthusiasm, and that was only a small beef farm in Western Massachusetts, not a peasent hovel on a dung encrusted dirt-farm.
Cults like that were always preying on the poor and ignorant.  Such folk were their "bread and butter" as well as their foot soldiers.

Both of you, stop!  Please!  NO ONE is going ANYWHERE! 

At least not until we know what the HELL is going on.

The elf maiden got between them, obstructing their views, somewhat, of each other.

She looked back at Ula.

Ula, your parents are farmers here, then?



And, on a lighter note:  POST 1000!!!!!!!!    YAY!!!!!!  and there was much rejoicing.

Dan put his hand on his face, dragging it down with visible dissatisfaction. He was really confused now. The cult seemed to consist of giant beastmen, magical sorceresses and, now, runaway farmgirls. Needless to say his enthusiasm for continuing this ruse was noticibly fading, still he kept it up. Finding out who Ula was wouldn't help them much, but getting the girl out of the cult was a legitimately good act.

Great.  Some sort of family squabble. Cassander would have frowned but she was actually finding herself rather interested in the goings on.  She wasn't surprised that Ula was some runaway farm girl.  It would be kind of ridiculous to assume that everyone in that cult was some sort of evil-beatman-magic user.  Well, maybe it would be unlikely.  It was hard to tell with fantasy games sometimes.  The logical and economic reasons behind things often didn't make sense.

Except that this wasn't some fantasy game.  Not while the sensations that she was getting from her very female elven body were so dissimilar from Cassanders old male one.

She put a hand on the drunken fellows shoulder, something that she probably wouldn't have done if she had thought twice about the action, but it would help to take the mans attention from Ula.  "Let's all just calm down now.  You mentioned that you had to take Ula back to her parents a few times before, Mr...I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name." Cassander asked with a smile.

Ula looked up at Greg.  She hesitated and one could get the feeling that she didn't want to talk about her parents or their farm.  "No.  They live about a two days ride from here." she said reluctantly.

The drunk meanwhile had turned his attention to Cassander.  He gave the elf a looking over.  Perhaps it was the Sorceress' manner of dress or her hand on his shoulder, but he smiled wider.  "M'name's Curin, beautiful." he said, trying to sound charming.  His eyes wandered over Cassander once more.  "Yeah, I've had to take Ula back to her folks a coupla times before.  She's my cousins daughter so it's like a family thing, you know.  I'm big on family, I'd like one of my own sometime."

He glanced over at Kenjinn, giving him that sort of look that said 'Which one do you want?'

Inwardly, Greg groaned.  Standing between a fanatic and their cult was always a dangerous thing.  As...well, the OTHER Greg, she'd debated religion with people before, just because she had been so annoyed by the smug sense of superiority in some of them.
All it accomplished was hard feelings towards Greg.  The "follower" simply couldn't grasp a world where, perhaps, the religious ideals they've clung to might be incorrect, even in the details.  It was if they felt that they'd have to admit that EVERYTHING was wrong, or that they, themselves, were bad people.   So, they clung to their faith, in the face of any argument that Greg could muster, eventually falling back on "Well, that's just what I believe.  It's God, is doesn't have to make sense."
Greg did NOT want to have that conversation with Ula.   Arguing with a fanatic, especially one who had convinced herself that her choices were "the cult of paradise" or "the smelly farm I hate" was NOT going to be productive.

Greg also suspected that telling her about Fharlanghn wouldn't help either.  The elf doubted that she'd be a good "converter" even if she wanted to be.   Still, if they could get her away from this cult for a while......
She remembered reading about one of the women who followed Charles Manson, she forgot the woman's name.  She'd been convinced by Manson of all KINDS of crazy crap.   It wasn't until she was in prison for a few months that she finally began thinking about what she'd done and realizing the craziness of the bizarre things that she'd once believed with all her heart.

Look, Ula.  We've ALL been though a lot today.   Why don't you stay with us tonight?  We'll get you something to eat and we'll all get some sleep.   We'll sit down and talk about things, okay.  How does that sound?

Greg was trying to remember how "women" talked to each other.   Most of Greg's female friends had been eccentric gamers, so their example might not be that helpful.  She tried to imitate her own mother (not that thinking about Mom was helping GREG out at the moment, of course) and tried to take on a "matronly" air with Ula.  The woman obviously needed a "parental figure" that wasn't associated with a dirty farm.  Perhaps, as strange as the idea seemed, Greg could try to step up to that role, at least for a little bit.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:15, Sat 05 Sept 2009.

Beautiful?  You've got to be kidding me.  And what was with that comment about family?  Cassander raised a shapely eyebrow at the mans...Curins compliment.  Maybe he should have let the man keep his attentions on Aliana.  She was beginning to dislike this fellow.

"Yes.  Why don't we go and turn in for the night." Cassander said.  She needed to recover her 'spells' and they needed to figure out what to do with this Ula.  Curin they could brush off prety easily.  "Why don't you go home, Curin, and sober up."

As calmly as she could, keeping her tone light and pleasant, Greg looked over at Dan.

Kenjinn, if those rooms are ready, perhaps we should partake of them.  Sound good everyone?

Much like a wild animal, willful child, or stubborn drunk, Greg assumed that the best way to get Ula to do anything was gentle coaxing.  As long as she felt safe, she'd probably follow.

Dan met Curin's suggestive face with his own glare that spelled out 'just... stop'. He looked over at Greg after the cleric asked if they should head off to the inn now. From Ula's complaints and pouts, it's unlikely if she'll go that easily but it's also unlikely she'll just sit out here in the wild while everyone else goes to sleep on nice beds. Human nature'll take care of that little tidbit for them.

He sighs and replies to her, "Might as well, unless we wanted to spend the night asking a strange girl questions" Dan scratched his hat and yawned, turning off towards the direction of the town. He walked a few steps before looking back over his shoulder to the others.

Ula seemed hesitant to accept Aliana's offer but she didn't have any other brilliant plan to fall back on.  It might also have been the motherly way that Aliana spoke and the threat of being dragged back to the farm by curin.  Whatever the case, Ula inched closer to Aliana and started to follow her.

Curin in the meantime had seemed a little taken aback by Kenjinns look.  He gave the large hat wearing man a 'What?' look, complete with a defensive shrug of his shoulders.  In the end he followed the others to the Inn, glancing occasionally over at both Aliana and Tizona.  He would follow them into the Inn but leave shortly afterwards, promising that he'd meet them in the morning.  Whether they wanted him to or not.

Sarah is no where to be found.

Giving Ula a motherly smile, Greg coaxes the girl to follow them.
Once at the inn, she's try to get food for all of them, perhaps even paying extra to have it brought to them.  She'll try to keep Ula calm.
Assuming that Kenjinn got two rooms, she put herself, Cassander and Ula in one room.
As Ula is eating her fill (Greg figures that a full cultist is a more compliant cultist and might be too bloated to try to run off in the night), Greg will take Cassander aside, speaking to her quietly.
I'll take first watch.  My magic ring lets me get away with only 2 hours of sleep a night.  Granted, I haven't tested it, but it should work, like everything else in this crazy place.    We still have freaky cultists out there, not to mention that 'guarding' Ula is probably not a bad idea, if only to keep her from giving up our location if she's recaptured.

She will make sure Ula is comfortable, even telling her a bedtime story (though she'll disguise it as "sharing stories from my homeland" since the girl might feel insulted by being treated like a child).

Kenjinn had rented four rooms but Cassander didn't like the idea of leaving Greg and Ula alone in the same room.  It's not as though the two elves hadn't shared a room on this quest already.

"That sounds good." she replied to Greg and then shook her head jovially.  "I probably should have bought a ring like that for Tizona.  Oh well, eight hours here I come."  She started to undress, her fingers undoing a single clasp on her top when she turned back to Greg.

"Look, watch yourself okay." she says quietly.  "I know that it's been a really weird day and all but...well...I guess what I'm trying to say is don't let your guard down too much."

Greg laughed good-naturedly at Cassander's advice, though when it came out as a cross between a "daintly tittle" and a "girlish laugh", she stopped, blushing and rolling her eyes self-conscioiusly.  She kept grinning at her friend, though, assuming that she, at least, would sympathize.
In a cheerful, but deadpan voice, she quietly said:
Gee, don't let my guard down around a "captured" cultist that has a vicious pack of cult monsters looking for her?  Good advice, my friend.

Her smile showed that she was just amused, not that she were making fun of her fellow elf maid.

Greg turned her back to give Cassander some privacy, she looked at the rest of the room.  There was a place to bathe, which Greg would sorely like to do, but decided against it, not sure if she wanted to deal with WHAT she'd have to bathe.
Was EVERY mundane task going to turn into an adventure in awkward discomfort?

She sat in a chair to "stand" guard over the sleeping women.  At a few hours before dawn, she'd wake Tizona and change watches.  Dawn was when clerics of Fharlanghn regained spells.  THAT would be in interesting experiment.

She'd been trained to sleep in her chain shirt, so she would, until she knew they were safe.  Until then, she keep her bow and sword handy.

Dan pushed open the door to his room, taking in the sights with a sigh. Today had been tough, seemingly fridge logic with the whole 'turning into D&D' characters thing. It still seemed unbelievable now, even as he saw his own swords and newfound abilities. And the giant hat, which seemed like it should've collapsed in on itself by now. "Perhaps it was too big" He thought aloud as he put it down, along with his weapons on the bed.

He lay back on the bed, more confortable than the tower they had come into this world to. Something still sat out in his mind about the whole affair. While coincidences were commonplace for plot conveniance, it did seem a bit too conveniant that they warped into the world, right above a cultist den. It was just way too close. What Ula said about her master wanting to change worlds was now even creepier, if the cultists could've had a hand in bringing them here. Or maybe Chris had a hand in it?

Bishop was a bit of a mystery to him, only knowing the guy for a short while. They seemed to have warped in without him, so maybe he had a more sinister purpose for this? The cultist leader was Nuriel, a man. The thought of Nuriel and Chris having some relation crossed his mind, and didn't seem so far-fetched. The guy was not here, that was enough grounds for suspicion. He shook off these thoughts for the moment. Maybe things would be clearer in the morning, if they don't get killed during the night. Sure hope the others will be okay... He thought before drifing off to sleep.

Greg will also periodically patrol the hallway of the inn, if only to keep alert and awake.

Cassander turned in for the night.  There was a rather awkward bath and a few other awkward moments while getting ready for bed, accompanied with a glance or two at Greg that said 'This is...different, eh?'.

Lying in bed, as sleep slowly claimed her, Cassander wondered if elves dreamed.

The group had been through a very busy day and their bodies welcomed the chance to sleep.  Sarah rejoined everyone back in the Inn and soon everyone was fast asleep.




------

The next day announced itself with the crowing of roosters and the smell of cooking from the Inn's kitchen.  Ula was still curled up in a corner of the room, not quite awake and muttering to herself.  Lucille, the young Halfling, knocks softly on each door asking about breakfast.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:59, Fri 11 Sept 2009.

The sound of knocking awoke Kenjinn from his troubled dreams, he shot up reaching for the roof, saying "GAH! GET AWAY!" in a frightened tone. As his breaths regained volume and lost frequency, he realised it was just and dream. Well, the bad part anyway, he was still Kenjinn and he was still in a D&D world. He scrunched up his hand and run it through his hair as he sat in the bed, mulling over his dream.

That... He thought with fear. That was strange. Is it just because of this body? Or is there something more to this? He stood up and stretched some ways before searching for his clothes. It almost sounded like... no, Dan, No. It was just a dream. Forget it and move on with your already wierded out life He calmed as he donned his wardrobe and walked outside his room.

The morning sun was a welcome sight to the dark and rain of yesterday, he felt slightly calmed by it. He whistled a tune as he walked downstairs to see the empty inn, only a few morning patrons around. He walked up to the counter and said "Ogh, rough night. Can I get something for breakfast?" Stretching his back.

Greg sat up in her bed.
Wow.  Still alive.  Cool.

She looked about (presumably saying hello to Cassander, who had "second watch" and Ula, who hopefully wasn't magically rescued by her cult) and then down.    Two lumps on the chest of her chain shirt armor, that she knew were female breasts greeted her eyes.
Wow.  Still a chick.  Um...not cool?
She was becoming somewhat disturbed by how undisturbed she'd become at the sight of her female body.  She'd even looked at herself in the mirror the night before.  Greg was kind of a babe.   She wasn't nearly in Cassander's league, but she was extremely pretty.  Greg wasn't sure if she were proud or mortified.   Or both.

Aliana had the "Endurance"  Feat, which meant that she could sleep in light armor, so Greg had, despite having no idea how it worked.   Muscle memory had prevailed, however, and she'd drifted off into an interesting, but restful, sleep.
The dreams were the "interesting" part.

Greg had dreamed about her parents, and the small town in which she'd grown up and been educated.  And her childhood friends and schoolmates.

The problem was, they were Sister Aliana's family, home, and friends.

Greg had seen her mother, a priestess serving the Patron God of the Elven Pantheon, Corellon Larethian, and had shown disapproval when her only daughter chose to follow a god revered mostly by tightly wound humans.    Greg's father had shown unflinching, unconditional acceptance, showing once again that he was wrapped around his "little girl's" finger and that he'd do anything for "his little princess".  Yeah, THAT hadn't been creepy at ALL.
Other scenes followed.   School and childhood adventures and antics, involving elves.  More detail than Greg had EVER put into ANY of his characters, EVER.

And it had all felt.....natural.   After seeing years worth of memories for someone else's life, Greg felt terribly homesick.  But not for the U.S.A or Massachusetts.  For his elven village.

She shuddered.   She could still picture her "human" parents, but was having trouble remembering her high school friends.

Getting up, she went to answer the door, hand on her dagger.  She relaxed visibly when a server answered.
Greg asked for breakfast to be delivered for them all.  And for a bath.
Might as well get it over with.

She reached for the collar to disrobe (dearmor?) and felt the cord of her holy symbol to Fharlanghn.

The elven maiden froze as she remembered the OTHER dream.

Cassander, I....think I need to find a church or shrine of Fharlanghn.  I....think he called to me in a dream.

She looked at her friend, knowing  how crazy that sounded.  Granted, "crazy" was a barometer that they'd had to readjust every few minutes, it seemed, but still.......it sounded crazy.

Her large, beautiful, almond-shaped elven eyes grew troubled, anxious and excited all at once.

And.....I need to pray.

Once Ula was taken care of, and perhaps food had arrived (though Greg wouldn't eat anything until after she prayed, not that she NEEDED to, with her magic ring), the nervous priestess would kneel facing the dawn (and a road) and pray to Fharlanghn, God of Roads, Lord of the Horizon, Patron of Travelers.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:37, Fri 11 Sept 2009.