conversations: human
conversations:  In the vast regions of the astral plane, where reality is at its softest, a structure of adamantine and even rarer metals floats gently through the current. Only beings of immense power or strange nature travel this road, though all obey the rule of non-violence.
  
   
  
  Stars wink in and out of existence, for in this place time is frayed and may be unraveled. This is chaos theory. This is the ultimate expression of physics and philosophy. This is the philosophers stone, holy grail, excalibur, and the true nature of god all rolled up into one. The mere sight might make men go mad or even awaken as a greater being. It could not possibly be more different than the extremely normal surroundings that you awaken in.
  
  Your first sight is of the strangely shining ceiling. It emits enough light to see, but not enough to cause a recently awakened person pain. This light is also the most fascinating thing in the room, if you discount the other occupants. For plain metal walls surround twelve identical white beds. Even the sheets are made of plain cotton, though much finer than most. There are no instruments, no guiding spirits of light, and certainly no other people.
  
   
   Spoiler 
  Make a fortitude check to decided in what order you all wake up. If not made in 24 hours, I'll make the check for you.
   
conversations: giles92:
conversations: human
conversations:  Crimson wakes up.
  
  The rooms plain walls began to flash bright white and a synthesized voice buzzes.
  
  "Galactic region optimization granted. Beginning interface."
  
  White light is streaking across the walls, conforming into an almost physical form. Abruptly, it ends.
  
  You are all conscious and seated in a dark patterned room with walls of blackened stone. The furniture is made of redwood, almost crimson in tone. Elaborate iron wrought torches keep the place dimly lit, but several wanted posters and red wall hangings are distinctively visible. A small bar sits in one corner, it's straight backed chairs and meager number of black glass bottles scream class. All in all, it looked like the sort of place elegant villains go to unwind.
  
  Aside from the six of you seated around the middle table, there's no one. Decks of unopened playing cards and glasses of mixed liqueurs indicate common business, but it seems extremely still. Everything is in pristine condition and even the rough edges of the wanted posters seemed cut, rather than frayed over time.
  
  Also introduced into the scenario are your clothes. Everyone is wearing elegant suits of comfortable black fabric, but with no other adornment than a slightly different style for suit.
conversations: giles92:
conversations: human
conversations:  Salinger, one who is oft given to foul play will feel as though he was poisoned and instinctively reach for his gun.  Once he does so he then tries to focus his eyes on his surroundings.
conversations: stanleyindraven:
conversations: human
conversations:  Alpha looks around, a glazed look on his face as he couldn't find his age old companion. He tries to speak, but nothing comes out, and instead he just sits there staring. He feels scared, and the fear can be seen in his eyes, being that he is surrounded by people he never knew.
conversations: meemaas:
conversations: human
conversations:  Daren's eyes flutter open, and he jumps to his feat in shock, knocking his chair over.
  
   "It worked it actually worked!"  he mutters quietly to himself. Seeing the other people sitting around him, some of whom still seem barely conscious, his face takes on a guarded expression.
  
   "Wait, who are you? 
conversations: Madcrafter:
conversations: human
conversations:  The alchemist lay there, showing no sign of consciousness, before slowly dragging his head up, and groggily blinking for a second. A full second passed before his eyes suddenly snapped open, yellow irises rolling as a camera lens as thoughts surged through the dry channels and passages of his brain.
  
    Why’s it dry? W-Why is it dr- How’d I get to the tavern? Where’s the shark? what’s with the- new teeth?! So… clean?  Am I dead? Oh gods I somehow pissed off Cayden Cailean! Where are the guards, where is  everyon - Oh there is everyone… Who are these people?! Who took my stuff? WHO TOOK MY  DO-    
  
  Dr. Schelct felt a familiar rolling at the back of his head as his wolflike symboite turned to the Malconvoker:
  
   “I’m AWESOME, are you awesome?” 
    …Oh, why hello there Tantalus.  
  
  Dr.Sclehct sighed, relaxed his shoulders, and turned to see what his unusual passenger had done.
conversations: Doorhandle:
conversations: human
conversations:  The sound of the chair hitting the ground wakes Stredexon with a bit of a start.  He looks around a bit, it is clear that the new clothes feel fairly awkward to him.  He places his hand on his head and feels around as if something were missing.  He looks up at the ceiling and sighs.    Great!   he says with in a sarcastic tone.    Looks like im dead...again.  Differen't this time though...Hey...   he pipes up, addressing the alchemist that woke him from his nap    purgatory?  or one of the hells?  
conversations: BizzaroStormy:
conversations: human
conversations:  The doctor glances about fitfully before answering.   “Possibly neither. You would think an afterlife would be more populated….” 
    Oh, marvellous. Trust a god to screw their one and only job up.   
   See, this is why we just EAT your miserable asses most of the time. 
   Silence you.   
  
  Schelct suddenly leans forward, an eager grin on his face that would be disconcerting even without the helpful addition of shark teeth.
  
   “So. What are you in for?” 
conversations: Doorhandle:
conversations: human
conversations:  "Based on the deal I made, the hells,"  Salinger will croak out in a raspy voice.  He stands and the jingle of his spurs can be heard.  A slow pace across the room to the bar brings him to a bottle.  He will open it, sniff, then pour it into a glass and take a drink.
conversations: stanleyindraven:
conversations: human
conversations:  Crimson 
  
  Feigning unconsciousness for a while longer, Crimson finally lifts her head to give each of the others present a long, hard stare, black eyes coldly calculating. " Who are all of you and where am I? And which of you thought it clever to rob me? "
conversations: Ashen Star:
conversations: human
conversations:  Actually, one usually waits for about a week while their actions in life are for lack of a better term "totaled up".  I've seen heaven twice and frankly it is overrated.   he answers in complete confidence to the schizophrenic doctor.
  
  He looks over at Crimson with a polite smile.    Well, I'm Stredexon and...   his face turns pale as the fact that everyone's posessions, or at least most of them, are gone.  He frantically claws at his chest just under the collar of his shirt.  He pulls from it a small mithral locket with a fancy crest engraved on the face.  The color returns to his face as he breathes a sigh of relief.
  
    Actually...thats a good point.  Where are we?  
conversations: BizzaroStormy:
conversations: human
conversations:  Alpha 
  
  Alpha backs up against the wall, looking frantically between the people around him. Last thing he remembered was his friend. Why was he here? He could hear them talking, but had drowned them out with his shock. He kept running it through his head until what he had drowned out finally sunk in. He must be dead. Why Ursus wasn't with him, he couldn't figure out, but if he wanted to go on, he couldn't show weakness anymore. He spoke up quietly, with a faked smile.  "Alpha. Just Alpha." 
conversations: meemaas:
conversations: human
conversations:  Schlect turns about and looks quizzically at the aspergic pyrokinetic before gestureing him over and turning toward Stredexon.
  
   "I am known as Dr Schlect, and the unwitting passenger on my back is called Tantalus. Don't worry, he's benign; Bark's worse than his bite. Unfortunately, so is his consonant quibbling. “ 
   “OI!” 
   "As for where we are, I hypothesize by the presence of tavern and absence of belongings, that we are in the clutches of none other than the Accidental God, and that he has an awful and abominably terrible sense of humour. ” 
   "So,"  said the doctor, pausing to crack his neck.  "Any other ideas?" 
conversations: Doorhandle:
conversations: human
conversations:  "All I know is I am not about to sit around for eternity without some kind of answers,"  Salinger says as he looks for a door to pass through.  The ching of his spurs rings out as he paces the perimeter of the room, keeping one eye on the others and the other on the walls.
conversations: stanleyindraven:
conversations: human
conversations:  "You seem to think that we've died, but I have never felt better, and this place is far better than the one I came from. While I won't discount the possibility, this doesn't seem to be Dolurrh in my opinion. 
  
  He casts an appraising eye about the room, drinking in the posh environs.
conversations: Madcrafter:
conversations: human
conversations:  “Excellent point,”  Dr. Schlect acknowledges as he turns towards Salinger.
  
   “Shout if you find us a door… or windows… or anything indicating that we are somewhere other than The World’s Most Posh Oubliette.” 
  
  Schlect surveys the wall with the wanted posters, looking for anything interesting.
conversations: Doorhandle: