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articulatingsoverdrawsbooklegging
taurohtarTrudging through the Dead Marshes was certainly no pleasant task, but Tauriel had done it often enough that she felt confident she could survive the journey easily enough. Not to mention it was the most direct route to Osgiliath from the direction she had started out, and she was in something of a hurry, wanting to reach the city of Men before the autumn fell in earnest.
Picking her way between the dead was distressing. Losing her footing was even worse. Caught between one breath and the next, all Tauriel can do is seal her lips so she does not swallow any marsh water, her eyes closing just before impact—
She wakes up on hard stone.
For a moment, she is utterly disoriented. Had she fallen through the marsh into what lay beyond? What did lie beyond? Surely nothing, for she could see clearly the faces of the dead, lingering on as if they had just died a moment ago and not centuries past. Regardless of what the dead were doing, she was currently sitting on hard, dry stone. Her next thought was that she was in a dungeon. The hard stone walls would lend credence to that claim, but then why was there no door? No window for her to look out? No way for someone to come speak to her, if only to threaten her for...
There is a light, far above her. It looks like it could be sunlight, like perhaps she is in the bottom of...a well? Why is she in a well? How did she get here? Looking about, she realizes it is a somewhat shallow well, perhaps no deeper than two men standing one on top of each other, and the moment she stands herself, the light gets much closer. That is reassuring but... There is no rope or ladder or even steps carved into the stone to help her get out from the bottom of the well.
"Hello?" she calls, not entirely hopeful that she's going to get much of a response.
When she's proven correct, she sighs and looks down at her hands. Someone has dressed her in clothing not her own, but at least she still feels hale and hearty, and she's going to get out of this strange prison so that she can assess the situation. Taking a deep breath, she digs her fingers into the stone wall and starts to climb.
It's easier for Tauriel to think under the shade of her beloved trees, even if these trees are...not quite right. She doesn't feel them the same way, but beggars can't be choosers, and she's too glad to be able to scale the great trees surrounding the strange town she found herself in. None of this place makes any sense to her. How did she get here? What is this place? How can she get home?
Sitting in the bough of a great big oak tree, she watches the town below, the people she sees every now and then milling in and out of doors, seemingly content to go about their lives here. Some of them wear the same, soft black clothes she wears, while others wear similar clothing but in different colors. She counts grey, red, dark blue... Everyone wears the same clothes, in a style she cannot recognize. The fashions of Men change faster than she can blink, but even this looks very strange to her.
Getting comfortable against the trunk of the tree, she settles in for a long wait.
fe_maleHe squints.
Both at the sunlight and the fact that the world seems to have rearranged itself somehow in the last little while since he most recently took survey of his surroundings, and he's not entirely sure to which direction things have swung but he knows he doesn't like it.
Level one, assessment. He's sitting up on the bottom of a probably-concrete pit outside, and he can hear wildlife. No, wait, not a pit, a fountain, unless one makes the argument that a fountain without any water is technically a pit anyway. "Somebody changed my clothes, sure, why not, that's not weird at all. That hasn't happened since like. Ninety four." Investigating the backpack tells him very little aside from the fact that someone around here apparently lacks forethought and that he's retroactively pretty happy this fountain is empty aside from one increasingly irritated engineer.
"Alright, I don't know what kind of game this is, but it's pretty crappy! Like, terrible. Duke Nukem wouldn't even touch this with a wavebird, and now I'm just talking to myself in a hole. Fantastic. I have red pants, a peacoat, and nothing to get out of here with."
Shouting into the void seems like potentially a Bad Idea, so instead he's gonna poke around and see if he can finagle something out of the pipework maybe. Probably with running commentary to himself.
Well this is familiar. His hand releases the strap of his backpack over his shoulder and trails over the edge of a shelf. Tony hasn't seen much of wherever the hell this little place is - nothing even really indicates whatever country he's supposed to be in now - but he can't really say it looks that appealing. If there's a blacksmith, then this might be a little bit more rustic than he's comfortable with. Either that or he's found the last bastion of hipsters. That might at least explain the overalls.
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