Skylar clung to the tree, sweating, as his body began to steady itself. Anxiously, he waited for the results of the vote to be tallied, a frown creeping across his face. Vishnat autonarrator, I didn't ask to be outed that I was nervous. How am I supposed to look cool in this kind of work environment?!
Letting out a sigh of relief, Skylar relaxed a bit, gripping the tree a little more tightly; the thorns dug into his skin with a slight prickling sensation, but they weren't stiff or sharp enough to draw blood. Taking deep breaths, he felt his body begin to recover a little strength as he stared out into the blackness surrounding him. Well, at least you guys didn't make your first vote "run out there and get killed". Maybe this won't instantly be a disaster after all. He squinted at the luminescent pods near his face -- the only sources of light he'd seen so far -- and frowned as posts began to trickle through the transdimensional interface into his mind.
Don't be dumb. What if they're poisonous? I'm not gonna give myself magic diarrhea in my first ten minutes here. Krepnak.
Hmm, that's an idea. He reached up and plucked one of the growths from the tree carefully -- its radiance immediately began to dim, but only slightly. Guess it takes a while for them to die. Cautiously, he crushed the berry against his palm, then smeared the juice along the back of his other hand; the stain it left behind was a luminescent plum color, too dim to illuminate anything around him but vivid enough to be seen very clearly in the darkness. Great, just great. First thing you zubnaks do is get me to mark myself for easy targeting. The thought that something out in the darkness might be stalking him caused his pulse to quicken, and he cursed himself for not thinking more carefully before taking such an action. Stay calm. Maybe it'll be useful in some way.
I don't know what this means. I don't do computers, I just memorized the hex code I saw in that forum post.
I don't think so -- man, wouldn't that be a kick in the brux -- but the transdimensional broadcast gets routed through computers when it gets connected to the internet, so apparently you can do some clever stuff there. First and last time I'll be messing with it, though.
Finally, the weakness in his legs subsided enough for him to take a shaky step away from the tree, then another; he wasn't planning to go far, but warming up in case he had to move didn't seem like a bad idea either. The ground sank slightly under his feet; maybe this was a bog or a swamp? At least I got transmigrated with good shoes, apparently. He crouched down, slowly, then stood back up, letting out a deep breath. Body's starting to work. Good. At least maybe I can run away from stuff.
The sound, when he heard it, was sufficiently faint that he might have missed it had he been making any noise himself; a low scuffle, followed by the soft clink of metal against metal. He tensed, falling back towards the tree and lowering himself down slightly. A person? Or a monster or something? His hands twitched, hoping to grasp for something to defend himself with, but there was nothing; even the branches of the only tree he'd seen so far were too fragile and flimsy to be any good in a fight.
Oh drotz, that's right, this might be a magic world! Can I cast spells here? Hesitantly, he pushed one hand out towards the noise, first and fourth fingers extended with his thumb holding his middle two fingers against his palm. "Fireball?" he intoned hesitantly, but nothing happened.
Well, skek.
Out of the stygian blackness ahead, more sounds began to emerge -- footsteps, whispers, and other commonplace sounds he thought might be the rustle of cloth or the creak of leather. Sounds like people, at least. Maybe they'll be friendly. Involuntarily, his hands groped for his pockets, but his pants didn't seem to have any. Yeah, right.
He was just about to contemplate trying to hide behind the tree when a figure emerged out of the darkness directly in front of him, and his mouth dropped open in shock at what the soft illumination of the tree's fruitage revealed, details emerging from the inky gloom like an artist's model being painted on a black canvas. Long, shining blonde hair surrounded a heart-shaped face of the finest porcelain skin, smudged with dirt and mud from long travels, and heartstoppingly blue eyes peeked out from beneath long lashes to behold him. Oh drotz, an elf?! I guess maybe this is a fantasy world of some kind. Skek. Wow, she's gorgeous. Skylar swallowed involuntarily, then cursed to himself. Can't look cool for one second.
For a long instant, they beheld each other; Skylar noticed that the elf was wearing fantasy-type clothes and armor, with a long sword on her left hip. Then, awkwardly, he broke the silence and lifted a hand in greeting. "Uh, hey. So what's, uh... what's up, girl?"
The elf said nothing, but merely looked him up and down carefully; then, a flicker of resolve seemed to enter her eyes, and she stepped forward calmly. "Are you attempting to greet me?" she asked in a voice like a clear summer sky.
Skylar coughed. "Uh... yeah. Hello."
The elf nodded, then quickly drew her sword in the blink of an eye; before Skylar could even shriek in fear, the sword's point floated delicately against his throat. "Then I greet you in return.... Cultist," she hissed.
WHAT SHOULD I DO, CHAT?
