The cave is cool, a sea breeze wafting in from outside. Our heroes can hear the sounds of waves crashing.

Eyepatch looks around, with his good eye. "Who the fuck are all of you?!"

Our heroes think the same thing as they realize something startling...they have no memory of who they are or how they got here.

A robed lizard man looks at them with curiosity and a bit of concern. "Are you all...all right?"

GM: Yeah so this idea came to me today. Just RP to the best of your ability and let's see what happens. Never gave PC's amnesia before. We'll say you still know how to use your abilities and such. Call it instinct.

Fresh JIC rolls are in order.

What do you do?
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:46, Mon 31 Aug 2020.

OOC: Cade rolled 17,3,68 using 1d20,1d20,1d100.  JIC Save, Perception, Skill
This message was last edited by the player at 02:07, Mon 31 Aug 2020.

Chaplain shook his head, trying to fight the mental assault and keep his sense of self. "Magic...hate..."

He wasn't winning against the force of a planet or dimensional law, though, heroic willpower or no.

He sat down, and looked at...Eyepatch?...and then to the lizard mage. That was his most identifiable trait. "No idea, sir. To both of your questions."

He compared his armor to others. Amnesia or no, his attention to detail was still intact. "We've all been through some serious fighting. My armor is about to fall of. It's..."

He did know how to operate internal systems, but all net systems were offline. Only recent data recorded. "...strange. Self-identification...Wolf, Chaplain, First Lieutenant Coalition States American Army, identification number 054-47-4033, date of birth unknown, biologically twenty three years of age."

It was like reading a slide of someone else's life, and he felt no connection to anything there. Strange, indeed.

He studied his own damage and the damage of others around him. "Claws, teeth, high powered blasters. I...should not be a refugee. I should not be running. I am not helpless. None of us are!"

He breathed out, calm and slow. He was guessing these people were somehow his comrades in arms, or they wouldn't be together. "Let's just get count of food, water, weapons, armor, and shelter. However we got here, something else can follow."

He did a count of weapons - something had cost him a few microfusion grenades, a blast or two from his laser, but for the most part, it was his silver-plated knives which seemed to have been in the most intense fighting, covered in both blood and dark ichor. He noted he was still holding them, so he began the work of cleaning them off - they would probably see use again shortly against whatever it was they were fighting.

OOC: 21:19, Today: Chaplain Wolf rolled 43 using 1d100.  JIC Skill. Probably.
21:18, Today: Chaplain Wolf rolled 3 using 1d20.  JIC Perception. No.
21:18, Today: Chaplain Wolf rolled 8 using 1d20.  JIC Save. No.

The guy in the power armor looked around. Nothing looked familiar and neither did any of the people that were here. What did look familiar were the glowing figures of light floating above him. He knew that he could do that, but what the frack was he really looking at if there were two of them up there and one of him in this armor. Then it hit him, the mental merging with the suit and he knew everything about the suit. He and others had made the suit, its programming, and...it was battery powered. He mentally slapped himself and wondered who the heck wanted a battery powered suit of power armor. Then again who wanted a miniaturized nuclear reactor riding around on your back.

Looking down on the rest of everybody else the two glowing figures wondered different things, like why the others weren't able to fly. They looked at each other, but without some kind of reflective surface to compare they didn't realize they were perfect twins.

"Hey you other light person. Um, nice to meet you."

The other floating persona of light seems to pulse a little, "Yeah, back at you. Umm do you know who you are, like a designation."

Light One says, "I get to be #1 and you get to be #2 because I talked first...HAH you are number #2, but I look like #1."

Light Two giggles a little, but then says, "Do you like race cars?"

Cade looked around unhappily, bristling at the situation she suddenly found herself waking up in.

"What the fuck does it matter to you?"  She barked back at the man with the eye patch.  "By the looks of things, the only thing you should be worried about is whether you're still going to be fucked, beaten, or eaten."  Cade informed him with an eye towards the large ogre adjacent to the one eyed man still bound in ropes.  "Or all three."

"Now I don't know who any of you assholes are, why I should care, how you got here, where here is, or who put you in charge."  Cade stated, her last comment directed towards the man in the skull helmet who'd already moved from asking questions to giving commands.

"But unless one of you can tell me what the hell is going on, I'm going to go find someplace that doesn't reek of fucking fish."

The ogre continues to lay upon the floor for a few minutes as he hears others around him stir.  He evaluates himself, his body, looking for injuries of any sort.  Finding none, he notices the feeling of hard plating upon his arms and legs.  Then he starts to evaluate himself further.
There are gaps in his memory, finding only buts and pieces.  Ogres (the name comes to him from out of nowhere) with sharp teeth and claws, smaller humans taken captive.  Chasing a number if Ogres, armed and armored, marching off to war through a glowing portal.  Passing through the portal, but not going the same place.  Warriors in skeletal armor battling a rag-tag force of various species if beings.  A man, a human, coming from nowhere to grab him and whisk him to safety.  A monastery, monks, how he knows he is unsure, training in different fighting styles.  But, they are only fragments.  Then he sees another battlefield, only he is not helpless, but fighting an unseen enemy.  Then he sees glowing eyes in a shadowy shape coming at him.
His eyes open.  Not in fear, but in readiness.  He sits up, grabbing the large rifle at his side without thinking, then stands.  Holding the rifle up and ready, he scans each of the others with him.  After a few moments, he lowers the weapon.  Something tells him that he can trust most of these peole.  Though, the one-eyed human, closest to him, he distrusts immediately, while the humanoid lizard is a bit more ambiguous in that department.
Who are you people?  Why do I feel like I know you?  His voice is a deep, basso-profundo rumble.

"We made it", was his first, immediate thought. His next thought was "Wait...who are we? And where in tarnation did we make it to?!"

He looked around the unfamiliar surroundings and people, then down at himself. He knew none of them or knew where he was or why he had come. Looking at himself he saw worn but serviceable clothes and equipment; body armor, gun belt, revolver in his hand, a rifle slung at his side, his hat on his head. "I look like a Gunfighter or maybe a Gunslinger," he thought.

It was strange and not a little bit irritating that he knew what those things were but not his own name.

One of the strangers began barking orders, one of the two in matching black, skull faced armor and he felt his hackles raise in response, like instinct. All of the others,  save for the lizard feller, were dressed like him; Westerners. Damn, another thing he knew but still no names.

What the skull man said made sense though so he shook off his feeling of suspicion and double checked his equipment. He seemed to be well armed, with nearly full e-clips for the most part though his revolver was spent. He opened the cylinder, tipped it back to eject the casings and reloaded it with a speed and ease that could only come from long practice. "No doubt about it, im a Gunfighter or slinger" he thought, snapping the revolver closed and holsters it despite many of the others holding weapons in their hands. Something told him that being in its holster made little difference to how fast he could fire it, should he need to.

"I'm good to go," he told them all, "though I don't have have a clue who ya'll are. What say we all holster up just so we don't have any accidents."

The lizard mage, who identifies himself as Agrus, regards our heroes. "I was worried something like this might happen." he mutters. "But I had to get us out of there." He tells everyone what their name is.

His eyes then scan across them, lingering at the one with the eyepatch a second longer than the others. "Your man there was a friend. You all rescued him from dark and evil beings. It is difficult to explain everything as it will be confusing, but your memories will hopefully return in good time. Come, there is a village near here where we will be safe to rest and repair your armor."

Eyepatch looks at our heroes with an odd mix of confused gratitude and suspicious over something he does not remember.

GM: What do you do?