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Kaja's swordstaff decapitates a zombie as Ragnar swoops down. She hears teeth scrape against the metal of her armored boot, but they don't get enough purchase to crunch through, and Ragnar's up again, wheeling for a better strafing angle. There's only three left. She barks commands to her griffin and he banks, flaps, dives.
castmyown
There is a flash of light, and then, right in front of a zombie that's yet to be decapitated - a boy appears. His clothes are strange, and he's unarmored and apparently unarmed. He looks bewildered by his new location, looking around in confusion. Naturally, the zombie decides to try and bite his face off, which the boy reacts to with: A. Screaming, B. Causing a pair of blue-grey wings to appear on his back, and C. Using aforementioned wings to launch himself just out of reach of the zombie.
And then he resumes screaming.
And then he resumes screaming.
segreant
Kaja dispatches that zombie next. She's bewildered by the winged boy, but the zombies definitely take precedence; she can chase the boy on Ragnar if she needs to.
There are two zombies next, and that's few enough for her to land her griffin and command him to tear one apart while she sets about cleaving the last in two.
There are two zombies next, and that's few enough for her to land her griffin and command him to tear one apart while she sets about cleaving the last in two.
castmyown
The boy doesn't fly off, but he is kind enough to stop screaming and is just staring in wide-eyed terror.
When the zombies are gone, he says, "Where the hell am I?!"
When the zombies are gone, he says, "Where the hell am I?!"
segreant
Kaja wipes zombie gunk off her swordstaff on the grass. "Where did you come from?" she calls back. "And what manner of creature are you?" She clucks Ragnar to her side and produces a handkerchief and starts cleaning gook off his beak.
castmyown
"Earth," he squeaks. "United States, Washington. I'm uh - a peryton? Aheh. Am I on Earth, please still be on Earth..."
segreant
"I haven't heard of your country or your kind," Kaja says. She balls up the handkerchief and puts it away and feeds Ragnar a treat from a different pocket. "Come down, I'll not harm you if you're not a dark thing."
She's kind of imposing even when promising to do no harm - sword on a long stick that she wields like it weighs nothing, plates and mail under a slightly zombie-gooked hooded surcoat bearing a coat of arms featuring a white likeness of her very griffin rearing over a quartered field of brown and gold. She'd be very Renaissance Faire if she hadn't just killed about fifteen zombies apparently singlehandedly.
She's kind of imposing even when promising to do no harm - sword on a long stick that she wields like it weighs nothing, plates and mail under a slightly zombie-gooked hooded surcoat bearing a coat of arms featuring a white likeness of her very griffin rearing over a quartered field of brown and gold. She'd be very Renaissance Faire if she hadn't just killed about fifteen zombies apparently singlehandedly.
castmyown
"Nnnot a dark thing," he says, carefully, and he lands. He tucks his wings back where they came from (they disappear neatly) and starts riffling through his pockets for something. "C'mon, c'mon, please, I am obsessive about preparation, I should have i- yes!" He cackles, as he retrieves a - little book. "I am not screwed!"
segreant
"I am Kaja di Ragnar," she mentions, "Paladin of the Order of Winter Light, at your service, and who might you be?"
castmyown
"Uh. Darren. Darren Sanders. Um. Aspiring runecaster."
He's pretty sure he just landed in a D&D game. Or something. Oooh boy, this'll be fun. And by fun, he means terrifying.
He's pretty sure he just landed in a D&D game. Or something. Oooh boy, this'll be fun. And by fun, he means terrifying.
castmyown
"A person that draws runes to do magic." Pause. "Do you have magic? Your friend over there doesn't have a medallion, but considering he's a griffon, I'm kind of figuring that you've got some? Somewhere? The zombies were also a clue."
segreant
Kaja scritches Ragnar under the chin. "I'm blessed of the Winter Light but am no mage. Ragnar is only an ordinary griffin, apart from being mine. And the zombies were once men and women that died under a dark moon and were not buried with the proper safeguards."
castmyown
"Yyyyours?" questions Darren, unnerved. "Um. Pardon me, what? You own him?"
segreant
"I wouldn't prefer to describe it that way. He's my mount and my boon companion and my guide to the Winter Light."
segreant
"Not as such? He's as blessed as I, he's certainly smarter than a horse or a dog. But he doesn't speak or philosophize or contemplate his own existence. Are griffins made differently in your land?"
castmyown
"They are people. That are sentient and talking and capable of philosophy and contemplation of existence and - well, just happen to also be griffins." He peers at Ragnar. "He looks like a griffin."
segreant
"He is," she says. Scritch scritch. Ragnar caws. "It would certainly be interesting if he could talk to me, but we get along without. How did you get here?"
castmyown
"I um. Was trying to make a teleportation spell." He coughs. "It worked. Just - not - apparently I missed and got 'plane shift' instead of 'teleportation.' Or something."
segreant
"I have never heard of such a thing happening to a mage, but I've never had much contact with them," muses Kaja. "Will you prefer to make your own way or do you want to follow me and Ragnar to the city?"
castmyown
"Following, going to go with following, I am really not ready for - um. Fighty things. And then I'll work on trying to get home."
castmyown
"In - what measurement? Actually, wait, no, how are we speaking the same language?"
castmyown
"Okay. Great. That's - that's great. I am going to channel my inner duckling and follow you around, or another paladin that can translate if you find strange, otherworldly creatures freaky. Uh - on flying, pretty far, but I'm not sure on the specifics because I haven't had to fly long distances before. Probably a few hundred miles?"