Above you, the clouds are iron grey, heavy with the urgent threat of rain. Thunder booms over the sounds of clanging metal: swords striking shields, or parried away by other blades.

[Secret to Poesy Wolfsbane:You raise your hands to the sky, muttering the arcane words or prayers, and you yank down. As you do so, lightning cracks through the clouds, streaking toward your enemy, piercing its heart.][Secret to Kairon; Lukosius; Wolfred Starr:The small figure of your companion raises her hands to the sky and yanks downward. As she does so, lightning cracks through the clouds, streaking toward your enemy, piercing its heart.]

The stench of burned flesh and ozone fills your nostrils.

Your enemy laughs, low and humourless.

[Secret to Poesy Wolfsbane:Sweat dampens your temples, and you push black curls away from your face.][Secret to Kairon; Lukosius; Wolfred Starr:Sweat dampens your companion's temples, and she pushes black curls away from her face. ][Secret to Kairon:You glance down at your hands, your normally crimson skin a deep blood red under the darkened skies. With a grimace of anger, you clench your fist, then throw your hand out, palm flat. A crackling beam arcs from your fingers, striking your foe true.][Secret to Poesy Wolfsbane; Wolfred Starr: From the corner of your eye, you notice another of your companions glancing down at his hands, his normally crimson skin a deep blood red under the darkened skies. With a grimace of anger, he clenches his fist, then throws his hand out, palm flat. A crackling beam arcs from his fingers, striking your foe true. ][Secret to Lukosius: From the corner of your eye, you notice Kairon glancing down at his hands, his normally crimson skin a deep blood red under the darkened skies. With a grimace of anger, he clenches his fist, then throws his hand out, palm flat. A crackling beam arcs from his fingers, striking your foe true.]

Your enemy stumbles now, as the relentless onslaught of you and your companions finally begin to wear their resolve.

[Secret to Lukosius:Seizing the opportunity, you leap forward, swinging your battleaxe wide and strong. It hums as it moves through the air, before biting deep through armour and sinew with a sickly wet crunch.][Secret to Kairon:Lukosius is by your side. ][Secret to Kairon; Poesy Wolfsbane; Wolfred Starr:You watch as the chainmail-armoured Tiefling siezes the opportunity, leaping forward, swinging their battleaxe wide and strong. It hums as it moves through the air, before biting deep through armour and sinew with a sickly wet crunch.]

The counter attack happens so fast that it is difficult to process. One moment your enemy was grimacing with pain, and the next [Secret to Lukosius:you are lying on the ground, your vision swimming.][Secret to Kairon; Poesy Wolfsbane; Wolfred Starr:your companion is lying on the ground, eyes rolling back in his head.] The enemy is nowhere to be seen.

[Secret to Wolfred Starr:You glance at your three companions before dropping your shield to the mud and crouching beside the Tiefling. You lay a hand on his chest and, with a murmured word to your god, a warmth begins to flow from the centre of your being. After a moment, his eyes focus and meet yours.][Secret to Lukosius:After a moment you realise you are on your back in the mud, the cleric crouching over you with a warm hand on your chest.][Secret to Kairon; Poesy Wolfsbane:The three of you look to your injured companion. The human cleric drops his shield into the mud and crouches beside him. He hums a few words of prayer, his hand resting lightly on the Tiefling's chest. After a few moments, the injured man's eyes focus, and meet the cleric's gaze.]

Everything begins to shift and blur. Your surroundings are hazy. You recall an enemy, but not who or what they were, or why you fought them. You look away to the horizon, and when you turn back you find you are alone.

Your three companions are gone. You stand alone in the mud. Something cold and wet hits your cheek; the first fat drop of rain.

You remember black skies, and lightning all around you.

---

The tavern, for it could not be anything else, is quiet. City sounds can be heard through its shuttered windows. Street vendors ply their wares outside - "Fresh bread, just one copper."

In the hearth, a fire has burned low, just a few smouldering orange coals remain.

The place is clean and tidy. A handful of tables are scattered about the floor, around what appears to be the huge opening of a deep well in the centre of the room.

Above, the second, and perhaps even a third, level are mezzanine balconies that overlook the tavern room proper, affording an overhead view of the strange depths.

To one side of the room, a bartender of indeterminant age washes tankards and places them on a rack to dry. As he works, the four patrons begin to stir.

[Private to Kairon; Lukosius; Poesy Wolfsbane; Wolfred Starr: Welcome, friends! More information will be forthcoming, but for now, welcome to The Traveller.

If my trickery has worked correctly, you should each have an individually tailored version of the above post. If any lines are repeated, then I have made an error somewhere.

You may or may not have drunken yourself into a stupor the previous night, you may have booked a room elsewhere, or camped by the side of the road, but you have most certainly awoken to find yourself in this strange tavern. You have your belongings and backpacks resting neatly beside you. You are rested and healthy, though perhaps with some muscle soreness from sleeping at a weird angle.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:47, Sun 18 Apr 2021.

Someone is snoring, loudly enough to wake Starr from his slumber. As he gains consciousness, the snoring abruptly stops, and he realizes it was him.

Grimacing as he stretches stiff muscles, he blinks and looks around the room, trying to remember how he ended up here. Mumbling lips curse the name of a certain bugbear and his dandelion wine, but when he reaches for his pack and finds the ceramic bottle gone, there's no denying the pang of regret in his chest. One more memorabilia from the long winter in the mountains, spent and lost along the way. Not for the first time, he wonders if he made the right choice, coming back.

Starr shakes his head, chasing those thoughts from his mind. He's much too young for regrets, and there are many roads to travel still. Someday, one of them may carry him back toward those mountains...but before he can decide where to go next, he will need to learn where he is. He gets up off the chair he fell asleep on, and heads over toward the bartender.

"Beg pardon, my good man," he offers in greeting, in a voice rich and deep though somewhat rusty from a dry throat. "I don't remember coming in here. I expect I was in my cups. It's a nice place, but...where am I?"

Kairon had learned long ago to value the few things he had that were his. That's why he slept with his backpack in his arms and his back to a wall whenever possible. It was also the reason why he had several knives in his possession, for when someone tried to take some of those things from him.

The dream had left him rattled, but he still made himself keep still as he woke up, eyes opening just enough for him to regard a fuzzy impression of the room through his eyelashes. With slow, careful movements he slid a small knife into his grip, palming it to hide from view and continuing to act the part of being asleep as he regarded unknown surroundings.

Lukosius stirs slowly, aware first of all of much warmer surroundings than he remembers going to sleep in. Drier, too. He looks around, frowning.

"Didn't I...?" he says uncertainly to himself, hooves clip-clopping softly as he stands. He arches his back and lifts his arms above his head, stretching to try and get the kinks out of his spine. His tail stretches out behind him, straight as an arrow, it's yellow-gold crest upright and taut before he relaxes it again, lowering it to the floor, the crest folding down a little.

He reassures himself his axe is hanging at his hip and slings his pack onto his shoulder, long legs carrying him to the balustrade. His green fingers curl against the balustrade as he leans over to peer down. He's quite high - a third mezzanine level, he thinks. His eyes are drawn into the weird depths of the opening in the floor.

Not that that's the only weird thing going on here... he thinks to himself, rubbing hand over his face and up one spiraling horn. This is definitely not the same place he went to sleep. And moreover... that dream... that was...

"But it couldn't have been..." he mutters to himself, shaking his head to try and clear its muzziness. Ilmater knows the poor bastard probably died in the streets...

A familiar, old, old guilt pricks at him.

There is a loud thump from a nearby table as something hits the underside of it - hard. Shortly thereafter can be heard some extremely creative curses in a variant of the Halfling tongue, followed by a shocked pause and then many, many more. Finally a small face peeks out from the darkness under the table, eyeing everything and everyone with disbelief and suspicion.

"What the - Where are - How did..." The face is very pleasant to look at if you ignore the scowling. Unfortunately, as the face is entirely occupied with said scowl, it's more or less impossible to dismiss. Framed by waving black hair, the blue-eyed Halfling face carries all of her distrust right up front for the world to see.

There's the sound of a weapon being drawn and she steps out cautiously, a scimitar made of bone held in front of her in one hand, some kind of amulet in the other. Her backpack is already on and her leaf-shaped wooden shield in place, long tapering ears twitching from time to time with her disquiet.

Poesy is not having a nice awakening.

Looking quickly around she focuses on the nearest people, resting her eyes finally on the barkeep.

"Hey! Where the pan-fried fuck is this?" she demands in a loud voice that would be pleasant if it weren't ringing with anger. "Who brought me here?"

The bartender pauses and looks over his shoulder at Wolfred's greeting. He turns, drying his hands on a hopefully clean piece of cloth. His eyes flick from the enquiring face of Wolfred to the tiefling looking down on them from above. They rest briefly on the other figure, still sleeping, before his gaze returns to settle on the man, and he offers a thin smile.

The corners of his handlebar moustache twitch as he does so.

As he draws breath to reply, there is a loud thump from the table, and an angry Poesy appears.

Raising his hands in a well-known yet generally futile gesture of calm, he replies in a long drawl. "Welcome, travellers. This is the Yawning Portal." He nods, as though this should explain everything.

Poesy's outburst behind him makes Starr narrow his eyes in suspicion at the bartender. It seems the culprit to blame for this bout of amnesia may not have been the dandelion wine, after all. Still, the place seems peaceful and civilized enough despite its seemingly underhanded ensnarement of patrons, so the priest remains calm, as well.

"The name of this inn, I presume." His voice remains polite - but with a hard edge to it, now. "You'll have to pardon me for being unfamiliar with the name - I've led a mostly sedentary life, up until recently. What's the name of the village or town or city we are in? And where is it, in relation to other settlements or landmarks of note?"

The small woman (a halfling, he was pretty sure, though he wouldn't presume from this distance) has some colourful language that makes him snicker despite himself. 'Pan-fried fuck' - he hasn't heard that one before. It does, however, sum up the situation pretty well. He definitely didn't go to sleep here, but here he is.

Another voice from below presumes the Yawning Portal is the name of the inn, but Lukosius isn't so sure. There's a bloody great hole in the middle of the place. It could be that, really. Nevertheless, he's interested in the response this man might get from the bartender.

He pushes away from the railing and turns around, making sure he has all his things before he goes looking for a stairwell or whatever it is that might take him down there. He scratches absently at the base of one horn as he clip-clops across the mezzanine in his search for the stairs.

Kairon takes a quick breath at the sudden angry shout from Poesy, his tail twitching and his attention focusing in that direction as he risks fully opening his eyes to get a better impression of the others in the room. The bartender, the angry Halfing, the human man, the bartender and..

He draws a sharp breath as he spots the other Tiefling on the upper balcony, eyes widening and then narrowing slightly as a tumult of emotions run through him. He'd seen him in the dream, but dreams are easy enough to dismiss unless they're messages from his patron.

This isn't a dream. But it doesn't mean it's not a deception. Fighting off fear, unease and anger he settles his face into a calm mask and stands, the clip clop of his own hooves sounding as he slowly walks towards the bartender and the gathering group, knife concealed in his sleeve.

"I'd like to know the answers to those questions myself." He looks upwards, giving Lukosius a long stare before looking back to the bartender.

"The Yawning Portal? In Waterdeep?" Poesy looks downright aghast. And agog. Both of those. "How, by Ba'al's sweaty asscrack, did I get magicked to Gods-forsaken Waterdeep? Ugh!" She throws up her hands and stomps around in a circle briefly, her long ears twitching out of irritation.

"It's going to take ages to trek back south," she mutters. "At least it's not Icewind freaking Dale, I guess..."

"Waterdeep? Huh." Starr is clearly puzzled. He turns his gaze upward. "You could've given me some warning beforehand, you bastard."

Having reproached, seemingly, the ceiling, the big man shrugs. "Well, if Waterdeep is where I am, I suppose Waterdeep is where I'm supposed to be. At least I'm not stuck in a blizzard again. And right now, I want breakfast."

He turns to look at the halfling first, then the two tieflings. "Would any of you care to eat with me? We seem to find ourselves in similar straits, as the saying goes."

Lukosius doesn't catch Kairon's long stare. Indeed, he doesn't even realise the other tiefling is there, since he's no longer standing at the railing but has found a stairwell and is making his way down. This inn has a strange construction, but he likes it. It's different. He likes things that are different.

His tail drags on the steps behind him with a light thump-thump-thump as he descends each one and he exits the stairs just in time to hear the halfling swearing something about Waterdeep. Well, he doesn't know how he got here, but he's pretty sure it's a long way from where he was.

The man (human, Lukosius thinks) mentions food and he nods a little.

"Aye, I'm with you on that one. Breakfast sounds like the best first step. No use puzzling on an emp..."

He trails off, now finally noticing Kairon. He just stares, his face paling, which isn't a great look for someone with green skin. The idiom 'just seen a ghost' fits perfectly with the expression on his face and he even takes a step back. If he's making any attempt to say anything, it isn't working.

Poesy stops and looks at the trio who seem to be reacting at the same pace as her. Her eyes narrow and she lets out a loud, low groan. If anything, the recognition dawning in her early-morning brain simply makes matters worse. Her cheeks flush with anger, the redness echoed in the tips of her ears.

[Language unknown: "An a ieith ekast fibena presetnti ectromame,"] she growls in her own tongue. Swapping back to Common she adds, "Okay, now I know someone's playing tricks. First I have a dream about you three and then I wake up in the same freaking tavern as you, miles from where I went to sleep? This is..."

She stops and rubs her face with both hands, glancing down angrily as her stomach audibly votes for breakfast.

"Fine. Just... fine," she sighs, ears drooping a little. "I don't need this drama, but I do need breakfast..."

Wondering if this has anything to do with the entity he pledged himself to, but choosing to keep that part to himself, Kairon nods along with the others. "Give me a reason I'm not walking out that door." He states blandly. "And you're all quick to trust that man." A gesture at the bartender. "When he either bought us here or knows who or what did."

His eyes focus on Lukosius and narrow slightly, fingers twitching. This was either a trick or he really was the one who left him to fend for himself years ago. And with the clothing he was wearing..

"Nice getup." Kairon tells him blandly. "You must be doing well for yourself." A glance down at his own, tattered clothing.

"HAH!" Poesy laughs, the sound sour and derisive as she rounds on Kairon. She looks him up and down, glowering at him with all the force that a halfling can muster. Which is surprisingly quite a lot.

"Listen, spellslinger," she states, her voice flinty, "I don't trust a damn one of you. You haven't earnt it, you don't deserve it and any one of you could have brought me to this place. I've got no assurances that any of you tall folk were magicked here the same way I was. Far as I'm concerned you could all be in on some stupid grand prank.

"But if you hadn't noticed," she adds, pointing at the bar and then the tables, "this is a freaking inn, in the middle of a big city which I'm willing to bet my left tit is Waterdeep. Not much point in him summoning us here just to poison us and take our... what? I don't own anything worth stealing. You don't look like you're rolling in gold coins either." She jerks her head towards the doorway. "You want to go, fine, I'm not keeping any of you here. Piss off. Go on." She makes a shooing motion. "Hells, the only thing keeping me here is a need for food. After that? Well." She shrugs.

"Well said, miss," Starr says, a hint of a chuckle in his voice.

He turns to the bartender: "So. Can we get breakfast here, and if so, what's today's?"

The bartender offers a thin smile. "I am sorry for the inconvenience, travellers," he says in the weary tone of one quite used to apologising for things that are not entirely their fault.

"The residual magic of the portal," he glances at Poesy as he waves a hand at the well that dominates the centre of the tavern, "among other things, occasionally brings sleepers together for reasons only it can fathom."

He glances between them all, and once he is satisfied that no one is about to leap over and throttle him... yet... he nods and moves to the fireplace. "Breakfast, yes. Breakfast I can do." He busies himself with rekindling the fire for a few moments, and the fresh logs catch quickly. He hangs a cast iron kettle to sit above the flames.

"I can do coffee and tea, porridge, and maybe some bacon and eggs." The baker's calls can be heard through the window again. "And some fresh bread. Let's call it fifteen copper if you want the works."

He pauses for a moment before adding, "I'm Durnan, by the way."

"I'll have the whole package, then. I'd like the coffee and tea served together but in separate cups, please. We're in the big city, after all."

Starr pulls out his purse and begins counting out coin.

"What about the rest of you, full breakfast as well?" he asks over his shoulder, before looking at Kairon specifically. "And are you staying, or going? Staying for breakfast doesn't mean you're obliged to hang around after, of course. Meal's on me. That goes for all three of you."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:31, Sat 01 May 2021.

Poesy blinks in some surprise, giving Wolfred a look of undisguised suspicion. She's clearly not used to the generosity of strangers. Nonetheless, and perhaps in spite of her better judgement, she climbs onto one of the tall-folk chairs at the man's table and nods her thanks to him wordlessly.

She, too, looks to Kairon to see what the spell-slinger's answer will be.

"Then we understand each other." Kairon told Poesy blandly. "I don't fucking trust a one of you either." He exhaled, shrugging shoulders and flicking his tail as he considered.

Wolfred was eyed warily at the generous offer, Kairon suspecting he'd ask for something in return, but he nodded once, dipping his head in thanks and sinking into a seat at the table. "I'll stay." He decided. "At least until we've eaten."

For a precious few seconds, excitement leapt in his breast when he realised it truly was Kairon. But it was soon dashed at the other tiefling's words. He glanced down at himself when Kairon gestured at his clothes and shook his head a little, opening his mouth to try and explain.

But his earstwhile friend didn't seem to want any explanations. He was angry. He was so angry and Lukosius wasn't sure how to address that. It certainly wasn't something to be hashed out in front of perfect strangers. He dropped his gaze and said nothing instead, which was fine as it turned out. The conversation carried on around him.

There was a lot of swearing going on, he thought idly to himself as he sat near Poesy (though admittedly not right next to her).

"Yes, thank you, I'll take breakfast. That's very kind of you," he said, with none of the suspicious additives Poesy and Kairon seemed to feel necessary. Maybe it was because he didn't feel suspicious, or maybe he was just better at hiding it. Who knew?

"That should come to six silver, then." Starr counts out the coin and puts the sum on the counter. "My name is Starr, by the by. Stalwart in the Order of the Steel Fang, Priests Militant of Tempus. That's roughly equivalent to a sergeant. I am, however, on...well, not exactly on leave, but something like it. Pleased to meet you all."

He takes a seat at the table with a relaxed smile, rolling his shoulders to work a bit of the morning stiffness out of them.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:18, Sun 02 May 2021.

Durnan disappears through a doorway behind the bar, and soon the sounds of sizzling can be heard, accompanied by the delicious smell of bacon, if you're into that sort of thing.

Well, the scent of bacon permeates whether the travellers are into it or not, really.

Lukosius smiles with a slight nod as the self-professed Stalwart pays for for the meal. He rubs at the base of one horn in thought, nose twitching as the smell of bacon reaches his nose. He does very much enjoy bacon.

"I'm Lukosius," he says. "Pleased to meet you as well."

Behind him, his tail curls against the dusty floor then tucks in underneath, out of the way of any unwary footsteps.

Kairon says nothing himself, parking himself in a chair nearer the door and draping his tail over the back. He can't help himself with glancing in the direction of the kitchen though, and the smells issuing forth.