The Infinite Ocean [IC]

[Kikon9]

Your final moments are done, your perception begins to fade. And yet, you can still feel something. A presence feels as if it is all around you. Then, you feel a tug and a pull, something grabs you, and through blindness, deafness, and numbness, you feel something dragging you. You can’t tell where you are and you can’t tell what is dragging you. After what feels like an eternity, you yourself decelerate, and the presence that brought you here disappears. Floating in a numb haze, you don’t know where you are. And then, pain.

Seething, writhing agony fills your perception. The numbness you felt before leaves you as your body begins take shape from nothingness. Behind the veil of pain, you can detect your limbs and organs forming and shifting into their appropriate places. As your mouth forms, you let out a pained scream, and you hear the screams of others as your ears form. What is this hell?

Then it’s over. With a thud, you feel yourself land. The floor rises and falls, like a boat on the sea. The sound of waves crashing fills the air, but underneath it, you can hear soft groans coming from around you. Bare and itemless, you sit up and look around. The floor is composed of rough, unpolished wood, as are the walls and ceiling. And in this room, there are 8 beings, including yourself, lie on the floor.

You all lie in the room, confused and unsure as to how you got there.

[sournote103]

It took Jarrek several moments to get his bearings; he had certainly never experienced or heard of anything remotely like what had just taken place. After establishing to himself that he was most definitely not asleep and that everything around him, even the bizarre, near-human creatures around him, was real, he attempted to stand up, being unaware, due to his disorientation, that he was currently in the form of a massive wolf. It took him only a moment to transform into his most human-like state (though considering his company in this place, appearing as human as possible didn't seem an issue), at which point, he asked of the others in the room, "What are you?" His voice came out rough, a product of the changes to his body that had taken place as a result of the curse put upon him. Which reminded him...
Hadn't he died? Was this the afterlife? He had never been particularly religious, but had never really doubted anything that varying preachers had said, and this was nothing like what had been described to him. Maybe he hadn't died, and this was actually a prison? But that couldn't be the case, as he remembered dying very clearly once he had reminded himself of the fact.
Speculation aside, he was tired, confused, hungry, and completely naked, four states which he hoped to rid himself of with all possible haste.

[NecroRebel]

Zone

The dark humanoid slowly levers himself to his feet. While its features seem indistinct, anyone who looks can tell that his face is impassive, the only apparent expression one of quickly-fading pain. He slowly examines his surroundings, then each of the other folk present in turn - an aberration, a group of three human-derivatives, a pair of beastmen, and some form of treefolk - but does not appear particularly interested in any of them. His gaze turns to regard nothing for a time.

A few moments pass silently, then he speaks. "This one is a mind and a body. Memory shows this one was once souls, but no longer. Souls were torn from it."

[Stijl]

The darkness took Callow again, but this time he didn't drift in the clam time between. Instead, he felt himself being pulled through the void, and then he felt terrible terrible pain. As the pain receded, he felt his body coming back, and when he was able to concentrate, he knew that it was the Feywild body he had worn most recently. Between that discovery, and the pain, it wasn't much of a stretch to guess death had released him from its grasp once again. And this time, Callow knew well enough to resent that fact.

As the void abandoned him entirely, Callow became aware of the other cries of pain, and of the numerous other beings he found deposited in this place... from the look on their faces and the posture of their bodies, they were just as unwilling to be here as he.

Slowly, Callow brought himself up to his feet. Even if he didn't want to be in this place, and truthfully didn't much care to be alive, he wasn't going to risk going through... whatever that was he'd just experienced. Standing up straight and preparing to defend himself or flee, he heard the others begin to speak. "What are you?" was a question he had encountered numerous times before. Before he could explain, another figure began speaking to... everyone or no one, Callow could not tell. But the talk of torn souls sent a shiver down his back.

"O'sa?"

"Here, Acalo. I tried calling out to you, but do not believe you could hear over the pain. Was it that bad?"

"Worse, I will explain later when my mind is clearer."

Knowing she had been brought with him to this place soothed Callow's nerves, and he relaxed. Given the confusion in the room, Callow didn't summon the spirit beside him. Another addition to this room would only make it more crowded, and might cause more panic. As the Shaman looked upon the dark, glass-skinned creature with sympathy, he addressed the first of them to speak, the huge man with somewhat bestial features.

"I have been told by elves that I am called a Wilden; plant being birthed by the Feywild. There is more than that, but also more difficult to explain. I am called Callow Greenmere. I would assume we all find ourselves... unexpected guests?"

[Lonewolfe208]

Preferring to not show his utter shock at what just took place, Jhoon sits down, folding his legs and peering up at the rest of the figures in the room with him. He closes his eyes, trying to find his center as he tries to figure out what happened.

He remembers standing against his fellow agents, men he had once trusted with his life, to only find that they were insurgents, there for the sole purpose of murdering the man they swore allegiance too. He also remembers the feeling of something passing through his heart... A cold feeling, sweeping over his body. The realization hitting him that in his emotional mindset, he had let a trickle become a flood, a slight splinter in his defense had been peeled away into an ample opening, where he had been too narrow minded to see.

[sournote103]

All of this was too much for Jarrek. A humanoid tree being told things by elves? A person without a soul who used to have several? A man with green skin? A man with an octopus for a head? A man who liked like a devil? A humanoid lizard? Jarrek's own transformation from human to monster was hard enough to understand, and the others in this room seemed the stuff or fairy tales and legends. What was more, he did not understand the others' explanations of what they were. Granted, he had begun to have a much harder time understanding a great many things since his transformation three years hence, though he could tell that even with his former intelligence, he wouldn't have the slightest idea what these people (if he could call them that) were talking about.
It appeared that, as impossible as it was, Jarrek would have to face one of several conclusions:
1) The world contained much more magic than he had known.
2) Either this or all of his memories were the product of a dream.
3) He really was dead, and this was the largely unknown realm of gods, devils, angels, and demons.
4) This was not his world, nor any he had ever heard of, and the scope of existence was broader than he could have imagined before.
5) He had gone completely insane (or had been completely insane before) and all of this was a hallucination (or the world he remembered was the product of a hallucination.
Whichever of these might be the case, he was in no state to face the inherent ramifications on his world view.
He suddenly recalled that he was standing up, which he promptly deemed too much effort in the face of any of the possible conclusions he might draw from his position, and slumped down upon the floor. Besides, what good would standing do? There was nothing to speak of in this room besides the very bizarre group of people.
Part of Jarrek knew that he needed to do something other than sit in this room, but he had no idea what he might even begin to try to do. Besides, planning was for the intelligent, a group to which he had not truly belonged for three years. It was at that point that Jarrek became angry, though he did not know entirely at what. Who- or whatever put him here, he supposed. He had never been one for cramped spaces, and became even less fond of them upon becoming the lupine monstrosity that he now was. He had also never been one to enjoy pain, as he supposed was the case with most people, and the process of getting here, wherever here was, whatever that involved, and whenever it took place, clearly involved a lot of it. He was also quite hungry, and his hunger had been known to get the better of him at times over the last three years. Part of him did not want to harm the others here, as they had done nothing to him (beyond challenge his ideas of how the world worked, which, he supposed, they were likely not trying to do), but another part of him saw their status as strangers as the perfect reason to simply consume them and be done with it...
But he pushed these thoughts from his mind. Now was not the time to be focusing on hunger; now was a time to get his bearings and to figure out just how the strange people around him could help him get out of this strange room and back home... or as far away from home as possible.

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Going to roll Perception
(1d20+8)[15]

Also, sorry for basically writing AN ENTIRE FREAKING NOVEL here; I can get carried away with RPing, sometimes...

[Kikon9]

Jarrek and Jhoon's Perception

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You observe your surroundings, and the first thing you notice is a faint sound coming from outside the room. Though muffled by the wooden walls surrounding you, it is distinctly the sound of waves, almost as if there were a nearly calm sea outside.

In addition to the faint sound of water, you notice something else in the room. A faint and faded black line in the shape of a doorway. Upon closer inspection, the line appears to be an old burn mark, as if a very precise fire had been briefly ignited on the wall a long time ago, and given time to fade.

[Rausdower]

The shifter was jolted awake as a warm breath entered his body once again. It felt foreign after the overwhelming feeling of death took over his body and mind, but the feeling quickly passed as voices were heard around him. Still aware of possible threats from the Harnessed, Zircon quickly rolled from his prone position into a battle ready stance. His hand reached for a weapon on his back that was not there. This distracted him a brief moment before focusing on the strangers in the unfamiliar room. A slight growl and a showing of teeth toward the beings followed.

[Shular]

Lucius

Lucius sits up with a cry of "no!" He looks down at his chest, expecting to see the dagger sticking out of it, but there is not a mark. He sits back, leaning against a wall trying to figure out what happened. It was at this poing he realized the room was swaying. He listens to the sound of waves. "Surely HE hasn't called me...I'd expect his home to be hotter and flamier," he thinks to himself

He finally looks around at the others, as struck by the varied appearances as the others. With his horns, reddish skin, and red eyes, he usually stood out in a crowd. Here, however, he feels almost...normal. "They're all confused too, it seems. He list Have we all misunderstood the true nature of the afterlife?"

There was no doubt in his mind he was dead, and sure to suffer in torment for his sins, so he may as well get on with it. With a struggle, he rises to his feat and looks around for an exit from the room.

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I know it's been spotted, but he'll still roll perception to find the door:
Perception: (1d20+3)[22]
If he finds it, or if or when one of the others points it out, Arcana check in case the door is magical in nature:
Arcana: (1d20+9)[15]

[sournote103]

Noticing some burn marks on the wall, Jarrek quickly moved towards them to get a closer look. He tried a number of things to see if it would open in any way.

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List of things I'm going to try:
-Pushing gently, as if opening a door
-Banging on the door several times in a row, in the same spot
-Pushing as hard as I possibly can (Strength Check - (1d20+6)[12])
-Finding a seam between the door-shaped area and the rest of the wall

If I am correct, and the line denotes a door which I am able to open:

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Jarrek was pleased that he was able to get the door to open. He peered out, uncertain of what sorts of strange things might lie on the other side.

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Perception, again - (1d20+8)[21]

If I am incorrect, and the line does not denote a door, or denotes one which I am unable to open:

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The burned line on the was confused Jarrek greatly. It seemed to mark out a doorway, but he could not figure out a way to open it. He tried to think of what else the line could possibly denote, but what purpose was there to a burned line in that shape other than to mark some sort of door? At the least, however, he could alert the others in the room to the existence of this mark, whatever it might be. "I think there'ssomething here," he said, though he still did not entirely trust the alien creatures that he found himself in this room with.

[Kikon9]

Lucius' Arcana Check

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Lucius can feel magic coming from the burn mark on the wall. It feels like some kind of enchantment, set to go off on some sort of trigger.

As Jarrek gently pushes the door, he feels a slight trembling go through the wall. A narrow line of fire briefly ignites along the burnmark, and subsides after a second. The section of wall inside the burned line falls away and lands on the floor, revealing a short hallway beyond. Along the walls of the hallway, you see 8 sets of simple brown clothing, hanging on pegs. Beneath each set of clothes, there is a small hatch in the floor, with something etched on each one on a small brass plaque.
On the other end of the hallway, an actual door can be seen. Through a porthole on the door, you can see a clear blue sky.

[cyblazegk]

Pain.

One word, one idea; it was the only thing that filled Narata's mind as she suffered. It overwhelmed her every sense and destroyed her every thought with it's sheer force. She could not even bring her mind together enough to wish for it to end. She could not remember what it was like to not suffer it. She could not understand it's meaning as it replaced her consciousness.

Pain.

For three agonizing minutes that seemed as years, it was the essence of Narata's being as she roasted in the red flames of her quarry's wrath.

And then, she was gone.

As her life force burned away, the pain subsided, giving way to the sweet bliss of nothingness. She embraced the eternity of death with open arms.

But then, it pushed her back.

She screamed after it as it threw her towards the horizon of a new life, another hellhole full of suffering, joy, and excitement. She clawed out at it, hoping her talons would catch on something that would allow her to pull herself back to death, but in this nonexistence, she had no form. And thus, Narata lived again.

She felt the cruel kiss of life once more, but it was better than the burning hell she had experienced before her death.

Her first death.

She new she would have to experience it again, given that she could feel she was alive once more, and that thought scared her. She felt fear for the first time in her life... no, both of her lives. She had been a mercenary in first life, so she had always been doing dangerous things, but she had never been afraid to die. The unknown had never scared her. But now, she knew. She was only afraid of death now that she had experienced it first hand. Death itself was peace and bliss, and she had truly felt at home for the short time she had been there. No, it was the journey there she hated, that terrible, all-consuming fire.

That pain.

The experience of burning alive made even the most grievous wounds she had suffered throughout her career look as nothing. She knew that above all else, she had to avoid meeting that same fate in this life.

But what if death just cast her aside again? She would hate to kill herself only to be thrown back into the world. There must be something she needed to accomplish to earn her place in the afterlife.

Steeled by this realization, she began to answer the creature that had asked what sort of being she was. "I am Narata of the Dragonborn. I assume you are all here because you have been denied the sweet embrace of death, as I have?"

[Surrealistik]

When death claimed Xzath'ral he had welcomed it; a release long awaited amidst centuries of silent suffering, of harrowing repose in a cancerous tomb of heaving flesh expanding without limit. The flayer's mind called out in agony to the inmates of that place desperately seeking oblivion, thoughts made scarcely coherent by madness and prisms of Far Realm confluence that had brought him to this ruin.

At last, they came; a group of warriors whose righteousness normally would have repulsed the aberration, but instead instilled hope for the first time in uncounted years as he touched upon their minds. Under different circumstances, in a different time, they may well have been his enemies; now they were as saviours, angels of mercy. Guided by his ethereal whispers, they had carved a swath through roiling hills of flesh, laid waste the Far Realm natives that had pierced the veil upon his ill-fated contact, and at last stood before the pulsing heart of madness. Therein lay the twisted remains of Xzath'ral himself, trapped far beneath its churning mauve folds. A flash of steel, stroke of axe and sword cut deep, granting the merciful peace of death; the flayer was freed at last.

Blackness swallowed him, an infinite void where time seemed immaterial, each moment indistinguishable from the next. Xzath'ral lacked knowledge of how long he'd resided here, in this strange limbo, nor when it all parted to his agonizing rebirth, his world a sudden conflagration of unfamiliar light and scouring pain.

When the flayer's murky pupiless eyes at last flit open, his sight touches upon seven complete strangers, a motley assortment of curious demihumans that he'd never before seen. Xzath'ral's tendrils momentarily tense and flail with instinctive purpose before he asserts control, warily apprising each in turn. Though it is difficult to assert from his alien features, the psion is clearly perplexed by this turn of events and his company, as he slowly rises to his feet, attention not once leaving those around him. His posture softens, becoming at ease when he appears to note that the others are just as confused and disorientated. Likewise, it seems that he is dissuaded from making queries for the same reason, doubtlessly expecting to find few answers. As his head pans in surveillance of his environment, a sense of dissociation settles over the flayer, his motions slow, halting, like a man stumbling through some manner of surreal dream.

Instinctively, he heads towards the apparent exit before halting, the air adjacent to the threshold at once thickening with a strange coalescence, arcs of purple lightning streaking between floating violet wisps. Rapidly, the anomaly finds form in the shape of Xzath'ral, sculpted into an exact duplicate. Without further fanfare, it sidles through the hole.

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Xzath'ral uses Shaped Consciousness, and sends his conjured duplicate through the door where it makes a Perception check with Darkvision: 19, see OOC.

[Kikon9]

Xzath'ral's Perception via Shaped Consciousness

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Xzath'ral examines the hallway through his duplicate , finding the clothes hanging on the walls and the hatches on the floor. As he examines the hatches on the floor closely, he finds a strange name etched into each plaque, a few of which the other beings seem to have used to identify themselves . Jhoon, Jarrek, Lucius, Narata, Zircon, Zone, Callow, and then, on the last hatch, Xzath'ral.

[Surrealistik]

The illithid's face contorts with further confusion and slight alarm as the duplicate confirms what he'd already suspected upon looking out into the hall, and noting the eight corresponding sets of clothes and hatches. A rasping voice suddenly resonates throughout the minds of all those assembled within the room, trailed by distorted echos.

I've no notion as to what end we've been gathered, but it seems someone, or something has been expecting us. My name has been etched upon a plaque; I suspect the same is true for the remainder. Each requires some time to forge and author, foreknowledge of our identities. What properties do we possess in common? Am I and the dragonborn alone in having been salvaged from death?

[Stijl]

Callow turns towards another two of the strange creatures as they enter the conversation, one from near the door... one with scales, and one... that defied Callow's comprehension.

The names on the doors, the preparation for their arrival. This was more than just another side path away from the ever after, something had a plan for them. And had expectations for them all.

The Wilden nods to the two inquiring about their moments prior to coming here. "I... was trying to find solace in death, before waking here."

After a brief pause, he adds quietly "Don't think I found it..."

[Rausdower]

Zircon relaxed his body as the beings showed similar confusion in this situation.

"If we are to be given a second chance after our collective demise, the power of what, or whom, we are dealing with must be...godlike. But why are we to be brought back? And why together for that matter?"

[NecroRebel]

Zone

The black humanoid turns to regard the door as it opens, but stays silent for a few moments longer. Eventually, he interjects. "Return is uncertain. Recreation may be more accurate. Souls were destroyed and this one remains without. Body and mind may be remade more easily, perhaps."

Just as suddenly, he falls silent again and walks briskly through the door. Examining the plaques, he quickly dismisses any that do not have the name he was given on them and more closely regarding the objects with that name attached.

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I'm not sure which, if any, skill checks would be appropriate. Perception is more-or-less a given, though. Maybe knowledges as well? Rolling them just in case.

Perception - (1d20+1)[3]
Arcana - (1d20+6)[21]
Religion - (1d20+6)[17]
History - (1d20+11)[28]
Nature - (1d20+3)[21]
Dungeoneering - (1d20+1)[17]

[Shular]

Lucius (pronounced Lu-see-us, emphasis on Lu )

The tiefling stumbles a little at the mental communication, and looks around to identify who had "spoken". Upon seeing Xzath'ral' he hesitates, something in the back of his head trying to recall a description of a similar race.

While trying to remember, the others start responding to the question. He raises an eyebrow. "I'm Lucius and, yes, the last thing I remember was dying. But how do you know we are not still dead, and this is what comes after? I'll admit this isn't what I expected, but priests have been wrong before." He starts walking out into the hallway, stopping at the plaque with his own name. He begins dressing, eying the hatch with curiosity and a little suspicion.

[sournote103]

Jarrek was surprised by the mental communication of the creature with tentacles where its mouth should be, but nevertheless, he figured that as strange as the others in this room, and, indeed, the room itself, were, he had little choice but to cooperate with them, at least until he could figure out exactly where he was and what was going on.
"I think I also died," he stated, in response to the telepathic creature's question. "But I can't have. It's not possible...
As he said this something else occurred to Jarrek: his monstrous form was the result of a curse. Should that not have dissipated upon his death? He had no explanation for this. Of course, he had no explanation for any of the events that had taken place since his death.
Frustrated by how many mysteries there were surrounding him and this place, Jarrek chose to stop questioning events for the moment and to go ahead and put on the clothing set out in the hallway. Upon going into the hallway, he noticed his name on a plaque near one set of clothing (and what appeared to be several other names on similar plaques nearby) and assumed that whoever had put him here had clearly intended for him to wear the clothing hanging there. Of course, given that there was one set of clothing for each person in the room, and there were only two sets of clothes large enough for him (and the other he assumed to be for the lizard-like creature). This being the case, he quickly pulled on the clothing (though this was mostly something that he was accustomed to, and which made him feel more civilized, as the thick, matted fur which covered his body obscured anything that society mandated not be seen. Still, he felt better having clothing on, and moved towards the door at the other end of this room, and attempted to open it and look at whatever laid beyond.

[Rausdower]

Zircon takes a brief moment to observe the room top to bottom and, perhaps, figure where he might be.

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Perception - (1d20+10)[25]
Dungeoneering (1d20+10)[12]

[Surrealistik]

Xzath'ral appears to muse over the answers provided, lithe fingers underscoring and stroking at limp tendrils in much the same way a man might cradle his chin.

Interesting. I had been mad before my passing, twisted by the Far Realm into something... unnatural, even by the criterion of my species. Death has liberated me from that fate. It would appear that some afflictions transcend even one's demise.

The illithid and his shadow move in tandem down the hall, the latter always taking point before its master, soon coming to a halt before their indicated plaque.

Nonetheless, I imagine we might better sate our curiosity later. For now, I should like to gather our bearings, and whatever supplies our conjurer has seen fit to yield.

Snatching up the hung robes, he quickly drapes the cloth upon his body, concealing much of the creature's strange mauve colouration beneath a drab, uniform brown. Patting down the clothing, he checks for any articles hidden within the material, inquisitive hands running through his pockets before flipping open the hatch set beneath his plaque.

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Perception Check: (1d20+9)[21]

[Kikon9]

Zone

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Zone sees nothing more than the basic clothing, tailored to a person of his stature, and the brass plaque over his hatch, with his name etched into it to mark his ownership of it.

With his sense for magic, Zone finds nothing magical about the clothing in front of him, nor the hatch below them. It seems that the area around him is devoid of magic.

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Other checks weren't really applicable.

Xzath'ral

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Xzath’ral finds nothing in the pockets of his robes, they seem to be empty. Inside the hatch with his name on it, he finds only a pair of books, one red and one blue, and both with his name printed on the cover. Inside the blue book, he finds both the ritual of Sending and the ritual of Hold Portal scribed in. The red book, oddly enough, seems to be blank.

Zircon

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Zircon examines the room and sees exactly what has been found already. It doesn’t appear to resemble any kind of building or construction he’s seen before. The construction isn’t underground, the walls and ceiling have only basic support, and doesn’t resemble any kind of dungeon or underground environment he’s seen before.

Jarrek

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As Jarrek opens the door, he is met with the a gentle salty breeze. Outside, he finds the top deck of a large ship of some kind. In front of him, he sees the ship’s helm. Behind the helm, there also appears to be a trapdoor of some kind, large enough for a large man to fit through. Around the deck, he sees only the exterior of the room they arrived in and the corridor leading outside. Strangely, there are no visible sails on the deck.

Around the ship, nothing can be seen but open ocean, extending into the horizon in all directions. The sky is cloudless and a gentle breeze blows across the top deck. It seems to be about midday, the sky a calming shade of light blue. In seeming contradiction to this fact however, there is no sun visible anywhere in the sky. The daylight seems to come from nowhere.

[sournote103]

Every single fact revealed about this place in which Jarrek found himself only served to make the situation more confusing; how could it be bright out with no sun to speak of in the sky? Nevertheless, he felt the need to relate this information to the others there, as the need for cooperation was obvious.
After telling the others there of what he had seen on the other side of the door, he closed the door and returned to the hallway to investigate the hatch he had seen near the hook on which his clothing had been hanging. He was not certain what he might find inside, but he had seen the tentacled man pull books out, which, hopefully, contained some explanation as to where the motley group was and how they had found themselves here.
As he opened the hatch, he voiced his opinion that the group would have to work together. He then briefly introduced himself, figuring names to be better identifiers for each member of the group than things like "that lizard girl," "the devil man," and "the tree person." While introducing himself, he neglected to speak of his past, or to bring up his curse, as the others seemed to take it in stride (as well they should, he thought, being that a giant wolf-man was easier to describe and understand that some of the others he found himself with).

[Stijl]

Callow follows the others out into the hallway, and examines what ever clothing was left by their... conjurer the strange one had called it. That seemed to fit. Callow puts on the clothing, and then examines the hatch at his feet before opening it.

~~~~

Once Callow has collected the belongings left for him, he heads out on deck to look about. The sky intrigues him the most...

"My pack's spirit realm was said to be lit by a sunless sky... never knowing day nor night.

Callow can feel O'sa seeing through his eyes, the pair still not willing to summon her to his side. "This is not the Twilight Sky I have known, the light there shines from the trees, clouds, and from the earth itself."

"O'sa tells me this is something else though, and I don't recall stories of vessels upon the sea in the stories."
[/B][/COLOR]

Perception for Gear: (1d20+12)[14]
Perception for Sky, with Speak with Spirits: (1d20+17)[25]
Nature for Sky / Light / Sea: (1d20+12)[23]

[Rausdower]

Drawing no conclusion from his observations, the Shifter follows the others out of the room to collect the gear that seems to have been left for all of them. Suspicious of the belongings, he observes them a moment.

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Perception (1d20+10)[12]

[Lonewolfe208]

Being the only one not to leave the room yet, Jhoon stands slowly, thinking that silence is better then revealing his strengths to creatures, whose intentions were vague and unclear for him to perceive. He strides over to his gi and put's it on, before following the rest of the group.

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This post is only half done, I have to handle something before I finish it.

[cyblazegk]

Narata grudgingly followed the others. She didn't bother to investigate. Whatever job was required of her, she'd find out soon enough, and get it done. Just like she always had.

Well, always until that day.

Narata pushed that negative thought out of her mind as she dons her clothes. A warrior cannot let her fears and emotions get the best of her, even if she is not in combat. Mastery of the mind is the key to the mastery of the body.

Then, Narata looked to see what awaits her in the hatch with her name on it.

"I've worked for some odd employers in my time as a mercenary, but whoever brought us here takes the cake. Probably even more paranoid than that guy who made me taste all of his food for him to see if it was poisoned. Got fired from that one because I did a little more than taste those sweet, sweet hors d'oeuvres," she said with a chuckle as she opened the hatch.

[NecroRebel]

Zone

After examining the vestments that were apparently intended for him for a time and finding nothing, the dark-skinned humanoid turned to regard the others expressionlessly. After seeing them pulling on clothing, he turns back to his own and slowly garbs himself. Like his companions, he, too, opens the hatch before him and exits onto the deck. "Sky was ocean, land was fire, where I was. Ocean is ocean here. Gods bind things to themselves. Themselves things are in this place; here are gods?" he speaks to no one in particular, seeming to fail to realize that he spoke at all.

[Surrealistik]

Xzath'ral seems almost to freeze up as he notices the books emblazoned with his name. The flayer's tendrils splay, and his eyes become wide and questioning before they quickly narrow to resigned acceptance. Gathering up the tomes, he deposits them within a recess of his brown robe.

Ah; rather unexpected, but quite welcome. I've no doubt these will prove useful.

When Narata brings up the notion of food, the psion's tentacles flail and coil momentarily, their actions echoed with a crude slurping noise suggestive of appetite.

I've more... esoteric tastes myself; I hope I am not forced to conjure the totality of my diet.

His double then takes its leave of the others, heading out into the sourceless sunlight to join with Callow, where it conducts its own survey of the area. At the flayer's command it assists in the wilden's observations, whilst a telepathic nudge further sharpens the latter's senses, clearing and focusing his mind.

Spoiler

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Perception (Darkvision): (1d20+9)[24]
Callows gains +6 to his Perception roll from Aid Another and Adept's Insight for a total of 31, see OOC.