Triviis (IC)

The village bell chimed through town. A light yet demanding voice followed, “It’s raining! You know what that means!” It was almost as if the town groaned in unison. The rain was a rather supernatural tradition. It was the universal sign that a new summoning was upon the island. It brought disappointment to most. Few found it enjoyable.

False, the self-proclaimed leader of the falsehoods, stood at the town square. He surveyed the crowd, noticing the annoyed look in everyone’s face. He crossed his arms and spoke, “Look, I know you don’t want another speech, so I’m gonna keep it simple. Rain? Summoning. You know the deal. Sort it out. You have ten minutes.” False took a seat in the folding chair that was just aside the gallows.

The bartering began. Usually the conversations went along the lines of “I’ll give you this if you don’t vote for me.” Recently, however, that wasn’t how it ended up working. Poew had the final say in who went with the summoned as of late due to some recent acquisitions of wealth.

There were murmurings amongst the crowd, though they were not about what False wanted. No, what False wanted was already decided even before the town gathering. The crowd was instead simply mingling with each other about what they were going to get from Spodot’s next visit.

The ten minutes passed. False was back on the platform, “Okay, who’s going?”

The crowd, with exception of Goose’s trio, shouted in unison, “Goose!”

Goose muttered to himself, “That figures.”

False announced as the crowd dispersed, “Alright, Goose is going. Everyone else is dismissed.”

***

Snail initiated the countdown with his remote control. He slapped the code into the machine, and then tossed the remote haphazardly to the side.

A robotic voice echoed throughout the facility, “Anti-interdiction-transinterdimensional-relocation starting in ten, nine, eight…”

There was a glow of white as reality was warped around the octopus.

“...Seven, six, five…” The voice interrupted itself, “Administering anti-obliteration-space to space that is about to be obliterated.”

Suddenly Snail was squished into an incredibly small pellet. It was all going as planned.

“...Four, three…”

The white light was now blinding, and space was completely warped around him.

“...Tw-”

Snail awaited the two to be finished. He waited for a solid five seconds. It was like time was frozen, and then suddenly, like he had been there the entire time, he unfolded from the pellet. Had it worked? He looked around. Apparently he was in a flowery meadow. He was somewhere else. It must have worked.

He noticed that the rest of the meadow had the same blinding light scattered around it. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one here. More people were coming.

Around ten thousand feet above what would be 'sea level', Petri sat on a rocky outcropping on the side of snowy mountain, taking in the view. Below him, a glacier flowed like a frozen river, moving too slowly to discern, and from his vantage point he could make out the crevices within the ice, stretching down to the blue depths of the massive frozen flows.
The cold didn't bother him, as he had no metabolism and therefore no innate need to be a certain temperature. And so he was free to simply sit there and watch patiently.

All of a sudden, he perceived a white glow about himself, as his surroundings blurred, quickly reforming into a wholly different scene than the one he had just experienced. He found himself in the damp soil within a meadow of grass and flowers. Nearby (although his vision was somewhat obstructed by the grass around him, he could see what he thought to be an octopus, which was odd to him, seeing as they were nowhere near any ocean that he could hear or smell. And now he could also see other white lights happening nearby, likely signally more arrivals. He therefore elected to stay put and observe.

Dorado didn’t know what was happening, but with nearly two years of experience being in terrible situations, he guessed that this one probably wasn’t good. Of course, most people could say the same thing when they were falling at terminal velocity into unknown depths. The first few seconds had been terrifying. The ledge he’d been walking along inside a dark cave had given way under his feet. For awhile he’d screamed, but then he just kept falling. Now that the initial shock was over, he was instead experiencing a devouring sense of dread. Where was the bottom? What if it was filled with spikes? Or maybe lava? Probably not lava. He’d be able to see lava. Instead there was just darkness and the rushing wind as he descended. Yeah, it was probably spikes.

Being impaled on stalactites was definitely not the worst way to go. Dorado could again speak from experience here, but he preferred not to dwell on such things. Maybe his armor wound protect him and he’d instead just die on impact. He frowned in the dark. Who’d put a bottomless pit here anyway? Was it designed so he would instead starve to death? Oh. Maybe. That’d be just the kind of pit he’d have the misfortune of falling into.

There was… a light. Not the red glow of lava. That was reassuring. Dorado squinted. It was getting much too bright, and instead of being part of the pit itself, the light was surrounding him. Oh no. Bottomless pit demon. That had to be it. Terrified, Dorado curled into a ball and hid his face. He tried not to think about how he seemed to be slowing. He didn’t feel any demon claws.

Dorado was quite surprised when he landed quite gently in the middle of a grassy field. He uncurled, blinking his violet eyes rapidly in the sudden light, and tried to stand. Evidently both of his legs had fallen asleep during his fall, and he promptly fell over onto his stomach over what was possibly the only rock in the entire field. He groaned and decided not to move until his legs worked again, despite now having a mouthful of grass and dirt.

Marsh Wonton, famed veteran, patriot and a bunch of other words the nation would throw out to the public to get them to show up to a speech. A speech he, begrudgingly, was forced to give. He was terrible at public speaking, more like watching one of the peasant castes try to control a husk far beyond their pay grade. His current husk was more intimidating than it was charismatic, but none of the others among his closet of husks seemed to fit the bill of "cheery military entity"

He strode past the curtain into the well-lit stage, a podium far too small for his 7 foot frame lying at the front. A roar of cheers greeted him as he took lanky strides. Maybe 600-700 various attendants, the soulless eyes of their husks staring back at him. The applause died down as he opened his mouth to speak, "Sixteen years ago, our lives were changed agai-" before his consonant could finish, a camera flashed to obtain the perfect portrait. He winced slightly, before he realized the flash wasn't going away, it enveloped him. An ocean of white.

As if in an instant, he was somewhere alien. A gorgeous meadow, flowers of various colors and shapes, ones he hadn't seen. He squinted at the form of a gold plated creature laying along the grass. He simply stared for a moment, looking at another fleshy form in the distance. Where was this? Who were these things? He drew his energy revolver for safety, glancing around himself carefully.

Torrent made his way through the market, a large, open building, cluttered with stalls and people. As he walked by, people quickly slipped to the side, some throwing him quick, mildly surprised glances before going back to what they were doing. They didn't fear him, but they did respect him, and no one wanted to be in his way. He was headed to the back of the building, for a long-overdue meeting with the owner. It had been scheduled nearly a week in advance, which was why he was so irritated when he noticed someone was following him. A row over, taking cover behind the row of stalls to his right. Torrent was, quite suddenly, very interested in whatever it was the person directly to his left was selling. He spent a few moments looking over the merchandise, ears twitching, before he heard the sound behind him. He whirled around, rearing up onto his hind legs and spreading his wings as much as he could in the confined space. A customer yelled behind him as he knocked something off the shelf. In front of him- or well, below him, given how tall he was- was a dark brown canine of some sort, though he didn't get much chance to take in the details before he was stabbed.

Now, normally, this wouldn't be a huge problem. Yes, it hurt. A lot, even. But he would survive, and it would probably be a matter of seconds before the would-be assassin was set upon by nearly everyone in the building, assuming Torrent himself hadn't already dealt with them by then. This time, however, was rather different. Before he even had time to react, a bright light erupted from his chest where he had been stabbed.

A moment later, the knife dropped to the ground with a loud clang. The gryphon, however, had vanished without a trace.


Torrent's front legs dropped to the ground, not on a floor, but in grass. He blinked a few times, trying to clear the stars from his vision. He left his wings as they were, spread partially, both to look a bit more intimidating and, more importantly, to help him keep his balance until he could see again. Carefully, he pressed his talons against his chest. There was nothing there, it didn't even hurt. It was as if nothing had ever happened. But something had definitely happened. Able to see again, mostly, he looked around the area he had just appeared in. There were a few other lights around him, much like the one he had just been transported by, but much more interesting were the other creatures. They looked, as best as he could tell, about as confused as he was, but they were also all largely unlike anything he had ever seen. He folded his wings, but remained tense, shifting his feet every few seconds. Where was he, and what was going on?

Another storm, it seemed to be.

Idgó was usually an optimist, though he wasn't quite in the mood for a blizzard to hit so soon after another.

Oh well, he'd make do - he'd just have to shorten his scavenging routine for the day.

The very air crystallized on his metallic body and organic cloth alike, with his cloth wrappings in particular beginning to freeze solid in the sudden chill. Idgó was hardly affected - after all, he was a Metallurgist. He was certain, in his core, that a Metallurgist could survive such a thing. And so he trudged on, even as the wind began thrust and push against him, and tried to knock him over; even as his very feet began to stick to the long-dead soil beneath; even as the oxygen began to fall, deceitfully cheerful and white, like snow to the ground.

Idgó knew little of this old planet's history, but that's what gave each expedition, and each one of his junk piles, value. His ancestors, the Metallurgists, once tried to colonize the world, but were repelled by another force. An organic force, with penchants for emotion and arbitrary values that Idgó was more than happy to acquire himself. It made each step - each movement - that much more important and sentimental.

You know, whatever that means. It wasn't like Idgó had met anyone out here.

"Oooo."

The broken, forgotten Metallurgist hummed, as he lifted a large collection of debris to the side with ease. Beneath it all was a simple gold ring, one that Idgó was keen to collect before the cold froze him solid - again. Draped around his horn of sorts, protruding to the right of his head, was a loose string. Carefully, Idgó took hold of the strong and looped it thru the hole of the ring. Somehow, the gentle weight of his newfound ring, hanging from his head, was delightful, like a new piece of fashion.

Just as he was about to turn back and return to his old treasures, a new light emerged, from up above - as if the oxygen clouds above were beginning to break apart.

"Oh, but the morrow isn't for another six hours..?" His hollow-sounding, tinny voice sounded to no one in particular.

Yet the warm light fell upon Idgó anyways, and he felt himself growing lighter, his vision growing brighter... In all his rotations 'round this star, he'd never experienced anything like this.


Immediately, an incredible warmth washed over Idgó. Even as the very air had frozen around him, he had hardly noticed the cold. Now, the suffocating black was replaced with a definite, warming light far above - and Idgó was speechless. It was like his old sun - no, it was so bright without the need for one - and it was everywhere. The very air, which once had fallen like snow around him, breathed, and flowed, and lived. Even the numerous clouds above, which obscured the sky, were bright, white, and joyous to the sight. He stood now in a flat clearing, save for the tall, lightly moving green protrusions from the ground which he did not recognize. He levitated now about a foot off the ground, looking directly into the sky - even without a definite face, he was awed in his posture.

Yes... He could be happy with this.

Perhaps finding that ring had... triggered something? Could it be a coincidence? Whatever it may be, Idgó was certain that he would hold this ring close to him from now on.

Honey had succeeded in grabbing the attention of a doctor, leading him over to where her friends were resting against a wall in the bunker. Scylla, the young man with perfectly-round spectacles and glowing eyes, had an ugly gash on his left calf that needed stitches. The professor with them, who had gone out of his way to protect the students, had managed to get into the bunker before the entrance closed, but not without being forced to absorb the force of an explosion to shield them. By some miracle he had survived that, but he had been thrown to the ground with such force that it seemed his ribs were broken. He could only sit there, laying back against a wall, struggling to breathe despite the pain. Honey’s tail tip had been singed, but that was hardly concerning, compared to the sheer number of people with broken bones or gunshot wounds.
 
As she watched the doctor work with his healing abilities, bathing her friend’s injuries in a soft, blue light that emanated from his fingertips, Honey could only bitterly reflect on how, instead of starting a peaceful life at school, she was standing in the middle of a bunker. She was in a place that reeked of blood and antiseptic, and the loudest noises were people crying in pain or fear. Instead of cream-painted walls in the dorms, she was greeted by cold, concrete walls with no windows, and lighting so harsh that it bleached the color from everything around it. The Changelings that occupied this school were not soldiers. They were mostly kids. What Honey saw unfolding around her was nothing short of a tragedy.
 
Honey’s only comfort, in this entire mess, was knowing first, that she had her plant with her, unharmed, and second, that her companions were here, receiving medical attention, and not on the surface.
 
The surface...Honey did not want to think about what might still be happening. Her eyes were not good, but she knew the color red when she saw it, and she knew what she was seeing when distant, blurry shapes dropped, shortly after the firing of a gun.
 
“Alright, he’s all done,” The doctor said, turning to look at Scylla, having finished with the professor’s ribs.
 
“That’s good…,” Honey replied, feeling numb, feeling only a mild sense of relief.
 
That was all she had time to say, before a white light seemingly extended beyond the blue glow of the doctor’s fingertips, where he was healing Scylla’s calf, and enveloped her completely.
 
She gasped, and clutched her plant tightly with both hands, wondering if she was passing out, and closed her eyes tightly, the only thing that shut out the light.
 
…suddenly, all of the noises that had been there had stopped, and Honey thought she heard the sound of a faint breeze instead. She kept her eyes closed afterwards for a few moments, still, not sure she wanted to see whatever was happening.
 
…But she knew she could not stay like that forever. Slowly, and reluctantly, she took a deep breath, gathering her nerves again, and opened her eyes.
 
….She was in a bright, flower-filled meadow, with lush green grass; not where she had been before. Blinking with disbelief, and then feeling an intense sense of unease in her heart, she forced herself to keep her breathing normal. She made her shoulders relax, and smoothed a lock of her mane away from her eyes, forcing her expression to remain neutral, or even apathetic.
 
There were others here.
 
She looked around, seeing one person who seemed to be lying on the ground, and based on the shiny golden blurs around him, apparently he had tripped and fallen face-first. His skin, however, looked far too dark at a distance to be even remotely human. His clothing, too, looked more like shiny metal armor at a distance, but Honey was too far away for her dismal vision to make out anything detailed. She saw what looked like a lion, but the blurs above it were distinctly avian—a griffin? She almost sent out a click in their direction, to verify via sound, but she doubted she was wrong about this. There was also a tall, hunched form, with what looked like a snout, or some sort of strangely-formed head. It seemed to have a glowing blue dot, but she could not tell if it was an eye, or some sort of machine.
 
There was a bright, neon-green thing lying on the grass, but it was too far away for Honey to think anything except that it might be another creature. Another tall, looming being seemed to have pale, milky-white skin, and what looked like a long horn on its head. It was wearing some sort of draping, royal-blue robe, so Honey was positive it was a person.
 
Honey could make the assumption that these were all Changelings, but even then, a Changeling with dramatic, physical alterations to their appearance, ones that could not be hidden by a human-like appearance, was rare. This place, itself, was not normal.
 
She decided it was better not to say anything. There was a clear feeling of tension, here. She did not want it to boil over into anything hazardous.

MeinMein’s ovular pupils narrowed, as her cloudy eyes began to peel open. She was instantly bemused at what she saw. Or more so, the lack of what she didn’t see. It appeared that no other creatures were in sight. Not a rustle in the grass, a chirp in the distance, or even the nearby skuttle. She took this as a blissful moment to compose herself, trying to remember anything in the last moments before she had found herself in this soft lovely plain.

“I c-could have sworn I was in a forest.. “ She stuttered, waiting for her pupils to further reduce in strong aversion to the blaring sun. Somehow, it was odd to hear her own voice. She was soothed by it, almost reminded of the gentle breeze pressing into her backside.

MeinMein paused.

“..Sh*it.”

She frantically patted her sides, throwing her heavy leather cloak into the air. She thrusted herself up, her cold eyes scanning the grassy floor.

“Oh thank goodness!” Her fingers made contact with the smooth, lightly engraved wood. She caressed it briefly, before inspecting her small box for scratches and marks. It was a rather small object to some, but the dreamy melody that flowed from her fingertips each song would surely be helpful to keep herself calm in this new situation. She decided it would be better to play once she could pin her location.

Apart from sudden isolation, MeinMein realized she was suffering yet another problem.

Her stomach grumbled quietly.

Loud sounds, the sound of angry cries and shouts of fear. Fear of him. The smell of ozone filled the air as the pirates attempted to save themselves from the monster of a beast carrying the dainty figure of a Ketan on his back. The flash of energy weapons suddenly filled the stveka's vision, enveloping him as he loped down the hallway of an unfamiliar starship.

A long, large form in black power armor tumbled into the grasses, claws scrabbling frantically as Rouhn righted himself and hopped to his feet, the glint of his helmet giving nothing away about his emotions. Amber eyes were quick to take everything in. Aliens of all shapes and sizes greeted him, and he lowered his head slightly, a low, guttural howl permeating the area, soft clicks following soon after. He was bigger than most of the other creatures there, so that wasn't what bothered him. His mom and dad had gone, disappeared. Where were they?

Long claws pulled at his helmet and there was a soft hiss as he took it off, letting it fall to the ground in front of him. "Mom!" he cried, his words very out of place considering the guttural, clicking sounds he made. "Mom- where is she?!" He sat down, chirping sadly while his plumage quivered, indicating his worry and fear.

Suddenly he noticed the figure next to him, the one lying on the ground looking... hurt? Maybe he was just resting. He nearly looked the most familiar out of everyone else here- he had armor. That was something Rouhn knew. Curving his neck downward, the stveka tapped at the alien's helmet carefully with one long claw. "Are you okay? Where is mom?"

Kumori walked into the marketplace nonchalantly, lugging a sack with a boar much larger than herself. The beast was a problem for the townsfolk with how it ate so many crops and constantly assaulted farmers. It was no wonder that they went to her for help - the most they could do was threaten the thing by waving a pitchfork at it and...well, typically that led to hearing someone screaming as they ran away and climbed up a tree.

At least no one was harmed...to her knowledge.

Its tusks were so sharp that it became a legitimate concern that the sack she used to carry it would end up with two gaping holes. That would be a shame, considering that she would rather save up for the "Amazing Jin-tsu Knife" (the newest one had extra features that she definitely needed - even if Kumori really didn't need to prepare meals for herself, she had to have some sort of hobby).

"Eesh, I knew the thing was big, but I didn't think it was that big, y'know?"

"It is no longer an issue," Kumori said, swinging the sack to put it on the vendor's stand, and it-...what?

If she had eyes, she would blink.

Instead of making a satisfying "thud" sound on the stand, the bag landed on the ground before her.

When he had elected to stay put and observe, Petri had not expected to be observing another being's foot and shin in such a close-up manner. He took stock of the other beings which had arrived, noting how one that looked like a solder drew a firearm and was holding it at the ready. Then there was the large creature in armor crying for its mother...
Truth be told, everyone looked rather confused about the situation, telling him that they all seemed to be in the same boat of being pulled suddenly from their homes by a mystery process.

If Petri had had a mouth, he would've frowned slightly. So far these beings didn't seem to be hostile, even the one with the weapon drawn. He therefore decided it would be okay to move and introduce himself.

Smoothly but firmly, Petri slid out from under Dorado's leg, and then slowly levitated into the air until he was two feet off the ground. Now was the difficult part: since he couldn't speak, he would have to figure out how to communicate with these beings, which was going to be all the more difficult since writing in the dirt in the meadow would be a time consuming process. With this in mind, he moved over to the large black armored creature and set down in front of it near the golden armored creature's head. He then hopped once, in what he hoped looked like a friendly manner.

Dorado blinked slowly and pushed himself upward into a sitting position. He sputtered grass and dirt out of his mouth and tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Between the hopping rock and the creature tapping at his helmet, he was quite at a loss for words. Still, this situation, at least for the moment, was better than being impaled at the bottom of a dark pit.

“Uh,” Dorado said, his gaze for the moment settling on the well-armored creature as it inquired as to the whereabouts of its mother. “Mom?” he echoed. “Sorry… uh… kid? I don’t know where your mom is.” He blinked again and looked around as the feeling slowly came back into his legs. There were weird people around. At least he thought some of them of them were people. Other things he wasn’t quite so sure. The flowers were nice. Nothing had tried to bite him yet.

Dorado barely dared to hope. Could it be? Was this a brief moment of good luck? He looked back at the armored thing and decided not to make any sudden movements while getting to his feet. Now standing, he brushed himself off and gazed around with wide, violet eyes. Normally he wouldn’t have found himself in a new place without first meeting an untimely demise, so part of him questioned if any of this was real. Maybe he had hit the bottom of that pit. Maybe this pretty place was all a delusion he was living out in his last moments. Or… Or maybe he’d finally died for good and this was heaven. He frowned faintly. No. Somehow he doubted that. It’d be too lucky.

He looked down at the bouncing rock again. It was a curious smooth stone, rather pretty in its own way. Without really thinking about it he reached down slowly to pick it up, seeking the source of its motion.

Marsh examined his surroundings more carefully as the others were beginning to join him in this...expanse of sorts. He watched the blue woman place a sack on the ground before her, seemingly the only one who packed for the endeavor.

His pistol remained at attention near his hip, none of this was exactly threatening but it wasn't a known location either.

He glanced back to the gold-plated creature. Fool, barbarians would eat you alive with so much gold in his sector. Typically husks weren't exactly ornately decorated, but these certainly weren't husks. No tattoos or crests. He watched it reach for the rock with a seemingly mind of its own, curiosity gripping him for the sudden moment.

Snail spoke to himself, but in such a way where it wasn't obvious that the cephalopod was speaking, "What a wonderful field this is! Very grassy. Oooh! I wonder if I'm allergic to grass..." He flopped around in the meadow, getting a feel for it. "Hmm... Aha..." He slid a tentacle across a blade of grass, examining it carefully. "It does not seem like it." He looked up at the other creatures, "Hi ho! Salutations fellow lifeforms!" He waved a tentacle in their general direction. "My name is Snail! I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Might I ask, do any of you know where we are?"

Small raindrops began to drizzle down from the sky. It was more of a light sprinkle than actual rain.

There was a rather strong presence that gradually came over the field, and then a single gust of wind. Two figures could be seen to the east of the meadow.

***

Goose took a swig of his whiskey as he neared the edge of town. The wind blew through his curly long hair as he sighed. "Roach, are you coming?"

"Oh uh, yes. I am." He seemed hesitant to enter the meadow. "Let me compose myself." He took a deep breath. He seemed focused. The presence suddenly left the field. "No one seems too bad down there. I just hope there were no psychics that felt that."

Goose chuckled as he made his way into the field, "They always feel it, even if they aren't psychics."

Roach shuffled over to Goose's side, "I know, but the psychics are sensitive."

Goose took another drink, "That's their fault if they're sensitive. **** those sensitive snowflakes."

When the armored alien didn't help or give him a satisfactory answer, Rouhn howled again, guttural clicks purring in his throat as he then went to the next closest alien- Honey. He made sure not to leave his helmet behind, however, and carried it in his mouth as he headed toward her, then dropped it at his feet to speak. "Mom is gone," he cried, scared, but not willing to let these unfamiliar people stop him from finding his family.

He couldn't even smell them, and that was the most troubling. Amber eyes gazed pleadingly at the creature in front of him. "Where is she?"

Idgó wasn't quite sure for how long he had been standing there, admiring the view. Yet the sensation of cool, alien, yet still very much delightful dihydrogen monoxide (such a rarity back home!) against his surface seemed to awake him from this.

It didn't take very long for Idgó to realize that he wasn't, in fact, alone in this situation. He lowered his head to gaze upon his fellow newcomers, ring of gold swinging from his horn as he moved his head. He recognized absolutely none of these creatures - though that was where the fun was, no?

He could stand to make a friend, and discover what it's like.

He fixated on the form of an incredibly bright green, wet, rather tentacle-y creature with many limbs. Feet now inches above the dirt below, he drifted over to the creature - which, as it seemed to be attempting to communicate with the others (who themselves were in a commotion), was probably sentient.

As Idgó stopped moving, several feet away from the creature which now lay at his feet, he crouched down - a difficult feat for his deformed body - and extended his arm. He was mutely worried that his sharp dimensions may harm the creature, but he had read much about this form of gesture that seemed so adept at making friends.

"Hail!" He greeted the green creature cheerfully, letting the thing know that he had noticed it. "I be Idgó. A fine pleasure thou acquainted now make'st! And thou'st be who?" Idgó's speech pattern was difficult to make sense of, though his intention, he felt, was clear enough.

Snail seemed quite happy that someone had realized that he existed. "Acknowledgement, what a peculiar feeling! It's nice to interact with someone that doesn't need programming." He flopped over himself and greeted Idgo. He took two tentacles and shook Idgo's hand. "My name is Snail! I'm a land octopus. What species might you be, good sir?" Snail's touch was surprisingly firm and dry.

Idgó's eyespot, glowing a bright blue upon his face, transformed into an upward-turned crescent - even without a mouth, his joy was near-palpable. "A Metallurgist I be," he answered honestly. If he had to guess, he'd suppose that his new land octopus friend, Snail, would be able to explain little on his origins.

Well, Idgó was hardly better in that regard - he wouldn't worry about asking him. Instead, for elaboration on who exactly the Metallurgists were, he settled on, "A race far apart from any other be they! Or, I imagineth so."

Honey looked up at the strange, alien-looking creature that stood in front of her. He was big enough that he could have rivaled larger breeds of horses, and looked like some sort of predator, given the long fangs in his mouth. Despite this, Honey found herself completely calm, even though this encounter might have otherwise terrified anyone else. Plenty of Changelings that belonged to the Form class could transform into enormous beasts, and this rarely depended on their original size or age. Even if he was wearing armor, based on his speech and the expression on his face, she was sure that whatever he was, this creature was only a child. Her ears lowered slightly as she took in the anxious look in his eyes; there was nothing she could do to alleviate his worry.
 
“I don’t know where your Mom is. Did a bright light catch you, too?” Honey replied, her voice gentle. She was already positive that he was there due to the same, mysterious force that had taken her out of the bunker, but leaving someone who seemed this young to dissolve into a panic seemed dangerous. It might be careless of Honey to not try to at least calm him down. “I also have someone I was with, and I do not know where they are.”
 
She did not know how he would react, but he looked scared. Honey would not dare tell someone wearing armor, of all things, that everything would be okay. The fate of her own friends was a mystery, and not something she wanted to dwell on, too deeply. She might drive herself mad if she did, knowing the situation at Legerman, and not having any awareness of how it would be resolved.

At the sound of Honey's voice, Rouhn suddenly calmed, and he seemed to understand that she was confused, too. But she sounded so nice, like mom. The plumage on his head flicked upward, then slowly lay flat again as he brought his nose a bit closer. He didn't understand much of what she'd said, but he'd at least been taught to say hello.

One clawed front foot pressed against his chest. "Rouhn," he rumbled, clicking softly. He then patted her arm, surprisingly gentle. "Not-mom." He was nodding to himself, making sense of things in his own way. Maybe she would help him find her.

A hand went to her belt. Her thumb hovered over her sword's button, ready to unfold it and wield it, though the interactions between the creatures around her suggested such a thing was unnecessary. Kumori studied the others before deciding on an action. Everyone appeared to be...amiable enough. It did not look like anyone was actively trying to harm anyone, at least.

One of the members of the group appeared distressed by the absence of his mother and another went up to speak to him. She did the same.

“The mother that is yours...you require assistance with her being found, yes?” When she approached, she made sure to keep her bag in view. Even if Kumori had no need to eat, she did not exactly want any wildlife to get to a boar of that size, as that would be insulting after all the work put into defeating it.

“Samayoken Kumori is what I am called, and the purpose I have is to serve others. If you so wish for any assistance, I shall be swift in giving it to you, stranger covered in fur.”

Torrent, looking around, came to the conclusion that no one had any idea what was going on. It seemed that they had all been brought to the same empty field at exactly the same time, from entirely different places and situations. He had his suspicions about who exactly had sent someone after him, but nothing he could come up with explained how exactly he had ended up here. There had to be a reason this was happening. Perhaps the others had their own clues.

It looked like several people were already introducing themselves to each other in small groups, but none of them seemed to recognize each other, or have anything in common at all. He was considering what to say when he shivered, feeling an unexpected presence that vanished almost as quickly as it had come. He stood perfectly still for a moment, as if expecting something to happen, but nothing did. He scanned the area beyond their small crowd, and spotted two figures in the distance. They were bipedal, and approaching at a modest pace. He turned back to the others, scattered around as they were, and cleared his throat.

"Excuse me," his voice was deep and loud, and his wings spread slightly to help him gather attention, as if he wasn't large enough already. "My name is Torrent. I've gathered that no one else knows any more about where we are, or how we got here, than I do. I think we may be able to figure something out, though, if we work together." He paused, glancing back at the approaching figures out of the corner of his eye. He didn't want to be caught at a complete disadvantage when they arrived, and this was likely his only window to get more information before then. "Did anyone see anything before they arrived here, unusual or not, that could have had anything to do with this?"

Honey gave what she hoped would resemble a reassuring smile—she could not make normal facial expressions, given that doing so involved baring her teeth, which usually scared most Changelings and humans. She had thus trained herself to smile with her mouth closed, “Nice to meet you, Rouhn. People call me Honey.” She made a motion with her right hand—her left was clutching her plant—to indicate herself, similar to what the creature had done.
 
Honey did not say anything else after the strange, cloudy-looking being in armor, Kumori, came up and introduced herself.
 
Soon after, the griffin-like creature introduced itself as Torrent, and began asking the entire group what they might have seen before suddenly being abducted.
 
…Things were moving rather quickly now, Honey thought, as she faintly heard what seemed to be footsteps in the distance, far away from everyone who had been brought here against their will. No doubt, that blurry face she saw, as Torrent was too far away to clearly distinguish, was twitching in the direction she heard the noise from at odd intervals.
 
He sees them, whoever they are, she thought. She silently lamented, for a moment, her lack of good eyesight, before deciding not to say anything, yet. The griffin probably had the kind of eyes a falcon would have—ones that could see for a long distance. He would probably warn everyone if he thought they were going to be attacked. People were not likely to work together with an ally that did not protect them. Honey, of course, could have said something, too, but what could she do except make everyone nervous? All she knew was that there were footsteps.
 
“Well, I got surrounded by a blinding flash of white light. That’s pretty much the only thing out of the ordinary I can say happened.” She said. And I saw about a hundred people get shot and killed in cold blood. She thought inwardly, grieving slightly. Goodness, I hope they’re okay.

Rouhn seemed to look in confusion at both Honey and Kumori, as they'd said too much toward him for anything to be especially distinguishable. Amber eyes looked faintly frustrated and his plumage shivered for a moment. He didn't answer either of them, but his gaze flitted toward the winged creature as it spoke.

He tried to make sense of it, but without Wyvlen and Thray he was in the dark. They would have helped him understand, or at least just guided him. The saddle built into his armor felt too light without the weight of the Ketan on his back. When Torrent stopped talking, the stveka let out a rather mournful, clicking howl in answer and bobbed his head.

About to set his hands on the curiously bouncing rock, Dorado stopped when a million other voices assaulted his ears. Abruptly he changed his mind and stood back up. Everyone was talking. Everyone but him. Instead he’d been about to pick up a bouncing rock. He squinted, more upset with himself than anything else. The lot of weirdos was still standing around, and he didn’t like the looks of some of them.

The armored creature looking for its mother had appeared harmless and hadn’t tried to eat him, so that was good. However he spotted a few creatures with weapons, and weapons meant death. Even if it was accidental. In fact, he saw at least one person with a gun, and it became priority number one to stay away from that person.

Hm. Large creature with feathered wings. Looked dangerous. That was a no. Bright green tentacled thing. No. Could be a brain sucker. The sharp thing it was conversing with looked like the embodiment of tetanus. Obvious hazards were a definite no. That left the thing looking for its mother, which it seemed had wandered over to a furry-looking creature and a cloudy thing. Well, at least the armored thing had seemed friendly.

Dorado carefully tiptoed over to where those three were and listened in on their conversation unabashedly. He flinched as the baby-thing howled—howls were never good. Still, he remained as he heard the furry thing mention a flash of light.

“Hey,” he broke in a bit awkwardly. “You said a light got you? Me too.” He paused, wondering if he should answer the large winged creature’s question too to avoid unwanted disembowelment. “Unusual. Well I was falling into a bottomless pit…” He glanced up at the sky. “I did not expect to find such a nice environment at the bottom.”