trusthell | Welcome.

You wake with the unshakable feeling that you shouldn't be here.

Perhaps you were in the middle of something, perhaps you weren't. Either way, you're waking up in an unfamiliar location with no recollection of how you got here. The room you've woken up in is sparsely-decorated, though that might be difficult to tell at first given how nice the beds are...but eventually you'll notice a few things that are a little...off. Maybe the scent is striking you wrong - it's clean, but it's not yours. Maybe your bed back home doesn't support your back in quite this way. Maybe you should be seeing sunlight through your window by now.

Maybe you should have a window in the first place.

This isn't right, but leaving the room won't give you any more answers. You might want to grab the silver key sitting on your trunk on the way out.

Don't worry though, you aren't all alone here. Once you step outside your room into the hallway, you'll notice that a few others are emerging from their rooms as well. It looks like they're just as confused and concerned as you are. Feel free to talk to them, but none of you know how exactly you wound up here and maybe some useful information can be found by exploring.

If you follow the hallway to its end (and it's a very long hallway), you'll eventually arrive in the foyer. You'll find some very interesting information about yourselves on the wall near the clock. Perhaps even more importantly, if you look on the other side of the multi-pendulumed thing, you'll find other framed information that you might want to pay attention to. It could very well be the key to escaping this strange place, after all. Don't worry if you forget the rules, you can find them in every room of the building.

Of course, search as you might, you won't find a doorway or a window of any sort. Getting out won't be so easy, it seems.

But who knows? Perhaps your fellow captives have something to say about all of this.

Welcome to Chronos University.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The dwarf reached up, pushing onto his toes, and tapped the rather remarkable "photo." At least they managed to get his likeness right before kidnapping him.]

Mine isn't so bad. I do enjoy avoiding responsibility. [And he did hate red lyrium. He wasn't particularly happy about them knowing that particular detail though.]

What's a horoscope, anyway?

Fortune-telling. Supposedly a method of divination by someone's birthday and the position of the planets, but in actuality, most horoscopes are written by people with no talent at all, who are just writing what sounds like it will sell newspapers.

[There probably are some legitimate ones out there, but not many.]

Sounds like half the writers I know. [He wasn't sure what a newspaper was, but the rest of it sounded like someone Varric knew back home. Particularly a certain someone who attempted to soil his name.]

[It's a shame he wasn't there. Then Varric might actually be swayed to participate in the game.]

Is that normal where you come from?

Fairly common, yes. I imagine most people realize they're fake, but just enough people believe in them for them to be worth writing.

One of these people is my immediate superior, unfortunately.

[A hand lifted and came to rest over Varric's chin, which he began to stroke thoughtfully.]

And what's your relationship with your boss? [Maybe it was all a metaphor. In Varric's opinion, though, it seemed too high caliber -- anyone with a name like "The Wordsmith" was bound to be prone to low quality conventions of writing,]

[The answer comes immediately:] He's annoying and utterly useless.

[...maybe it is a metaphor, come to think of it.]

[Huh. He got something right?]

Well there you go. You're just projecting. Happens to the best of us.

It's as reasonable an explanation as any.

[But, his wasn't the most egregious profile error to begin with... Hm.]

Well, at least we brought some logic to this mess. [A sour look crossed over Varric's features. He'd almost felt a burst of pride for all his attempts, but it had burned out as quickly as it had come on.]

Not that anything else makes sense

[He sees that annoyance, and he's not the best person to reassure someone, but he tries.]

One step at a time. We obviously aren't going anywhere anytime soon.

[It didn't do much anything to reassure him, but he appreciated the effort. He forced a tight smile to his lips.]

You can say that again. [He sighed and glanced over at the listed roster.] Christo, is it?

That's correct. And you'd be Varric?

[At least that's simple enough. How do you pronounce an equals sign?]

At your service. [He gave a flourish and something close to a bow.] Granted, said services are a little limited at present.

If I find myself in need of someone to discuss archery with, I'll turn to you first. I am an archer myself.

[...it would be nice if he'd showed up with his bow.]

Are you now? [Now that was interesting. Varric made a point of avoiding traditional bows, but he knew how to work one. At least enough to hold a conversation, that is.]

I look forward to that conversation, then.

Crossbows aren't my favorites, but I would gladly discuss the relative merits of each.

[One thing that isn't totally horrible. Maybe. It depends on how much Varric can contribute to the conversation.]

Sounds like a good plan. [A good plan that would be missing just one important thing.]

You drink? [Because if Christo was a two-fer -- a drinking buddy and an archer buddy -- Varric would be a happy man.]

[Provided he found alcohol, of course.]

Lightweight.

[He doesn't see much reason to deny it, given his squishy mage status as well as his general disinterest in trying alcohol again. But he has tried it.]

[Well, one out of two wasn't so bad.]

That's a shame. [He shrugged.] Guess we'll have to drink water when we have our talks then. [He'd keep it in mind though, so he didn't offend his newfound companion.]

I don't mind if you drink, I just can't handle it myself.

[Also, if one of them is drunk and one of them isn't, that just gives the sober one the advantage in any argument.]

[Oh dear, sweet Christo, that's where you're wrong. The more Varric drinks the craftier he gets. It's a dwarven thing.]

Guess that means more for me.

[He will learn that the hard way.]

Assuming no one else in our group is a heavy drinker, that is.

I don't know whether to hope that someone is or isn't. [The drunken company might be nice, at least.]

It depends upon how large our alcohol supply is.

[He didn't find any in the storage room, so Varric might be completely out of luck.]

That remains to be seen.

[Varric isn't giving up hope. It served as a reminder, that he had more to explore. He turned to look around, searching for halls that he might not have explored thus far.]

Mind if I take my leave? Could be some bottles to sniff out yet.

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certaingiant - 2017-01-26 11:16 (UTC) - Expand